a iiiijiililiiii: THE BOOK of DAYS A MISCELLANY POPULAR ANTIQUITIES C. K. OGDEN LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BAJiBAiiA HE Book of Days was designed to consist of — 1. Matters connected witli the Church Kalendar, including the Popular Festivals, Saints' Days, and other Holidays, Avith illustrations of Christian Antiquities in general ; 2. Phsenomena connected with the Seasonal hanges ; 3. Folk-Lore of the United Kingdom — namely, Popular itions and Observances connected with Times and Seasons ; otahle Events, Biographies, and Anecdotes connected with the Days he Year; 5. Articles of Popular Archaeology, of an entertaining acter, tending to illustrate the progress of Civilisation, Manners, ature, and Ideas in these kingdoms ; 6. Curious, Fugitive, and Inedited eces. It was stated to he the desire of the Editor — while not discouraging the progressive spirit of the age, to temper it with affectionate feelings towards what is poetical and elevated, honest and of good report, in the old national life ; while in no way discountenancing great material interests, to evoke an equal activity in those feelings heyond self, on which depend remoter but infinitely greater interests ; to kindle and sustain a spirit of patriotism, tending to unity, peace, and prosperity in our own state, while not exclusive of feelings of benevolence, as well as justice, towards others. It was desired that these volumes should' be a repertory of old fireside ideas in general, as well as a means of improving the fireside wisdom of the present day. The day of profession has now merged into the day of performance, the half of the work being completed. It is given to few to feel assured that every particular of a favourite object has been duly accomplished ; and the individual who has super- intended the birth of these pages is certainly not of that happy minority. He would say, nevertheless, that he has done his best, with the means and opportunities at his disposal, to produce a work answering to his plan, and calculated to improve, while it entertains, and mingling the agreeable with the instructive. It Avill also be his hope to produce a second volume, if possible to him, excelling the first ; and in this he meanwhile rests, The Gentle Reader's Humble Servant. I8G9. mi 0f Sltefesrfera. General Vignette : Book of Days, 1 Initial Letter : Time, , . 1 Portrait : Julius Csesar, . 4 Clog Almanac, .... 9 Emblematic Vignette : January, 15 Initial Letter : January, . . 15 Curling, 20 Various Forms of Snow Crystals, 21 Sledge-travelling on Snow, . 22 Illustration for First of January : the Wassail Bowl, ... 23 Biirger's Lenore, ... 24 First-Footing in Edinburgh, . 29 Hobson, the Cambridge Carrier, .35 The Death of General "Wolfe (from the painting by West), . 37 Portrait : P. Ovidius Naso, . 38 Josiah Wedgwood, . 44 Douglas Jerrold, . 45 Horn Book— 17th Century, . 47 Death and Burial of Edward the Confessor, from the Bayeux Tapestry, .... 54 Portrait : Benjamin Franklin, 58 Printing Press worked at by FrankUn in London, . . 59 Illustration : Twelfth-day, . 61 The King of the Bean, . , 63 Birch's Shop, 15 CornhiU, . 64 Spinning with the Distaff, . . 69 Armorial Coat of the Earl of Stair—' The Curse of Scotland,' 75 Frontispiece of a Dutch News- paper, 1653, .... 76 Quigrich of St Fillan, . . 79 Portrait : Caroline L. Herschel, 81 Touch Piece (time of Charles II.), 85 (time of Queen Anne), 85 Portrait : Dr Birkbeck, . . 87 Sir Rowland Hill, . 90 Procession of the Plough on Plough Monday, ... 95 The Quern, .... 96 The Running Footman, . . 99 St Veronica's Miraculous Hand- kerchief, .... 101 Early Effigies of St Peter and St Paul, 102 Portrait : Charles James Fox, 103 The Glasgow Arms, . . .106 Fair on the Thames, 1716, . 109 Frozen-out Gardeners, . , 111 Portrait : Dr Parr, . . 116 Swearing on Horns at Highgate, 118 Portrait : Edward Gibbon, . 121 Residence of Gibbon at Lausanne, 121 Monument of Sir John Moore, at Corunna, .... 123 Trial of a Sow and Pigs at Lavegny, 128 Model of Newcomen's Steam- engine, used by James Watt, . 134 Autograph : Elizabeth, Queen of Denmark, .... 136 Primitive Bone Skates, . . 138 Skating Scene, .... 139 Monxunent to Lord Bacon, . 144 Stock-jobbing Cards, or the Humours of Change AUey, . 147 South-Sea Bubble — Caricature by Hogarth, . . . .149 Portrait : The Old Countess of Desmond, .... 150 The Royal Exchange, London, as built by Sir Thomas Gresham, 153 Portrait of Robert Bums, from a SUhouette, . . . .158 Cottage at AHoway, the Birth- place of Bums, . . . 159 Mayoral Door-posts, Norwich, 1592, 162 Henry VUI. delivering the Bible to Cranmer and Cromwell, . 163 Chained Bible in Cumnor Church, Berkshire, .... 164 Monument of Burton in Christ Church, 170 Tokens of Coffeehouses, . . 171 Coffeehouse, tem]x Charles II., . 172 Sayes Court, Deptford, Residence of Peter the Great, . . 175 Medal Struck in honour of Lord North, 177 Watt and Boulton's Establishment in Birmingham, . . .178 Group of Court Fools, . . 179 Portrait : WiU Somers, . . 180 Archie Armstrong, 183 Execution of Charles I., . . 189 King Charles L's Bible, . . 190 Watch, . . 191 Calves'-Head Club, . . 192 Memorials of Charles I., . . 194 Portrait : Charles Edward Stuart, 199 Emblematic Vignette : February, 202 Initial Letter : Febmary, . . 202 The Bell Rock Lighthouse, . 208 Ducking Stool, as practised at Broadwater, near Leominster, 209 Ducking-Chair at a VUlage WeU, 209 Scold about to be Ducked, . 210 Scold's Bridle or Brank, . 211 Wedding Rings (five cuts), 220-21 j Marocco, the Wonderful Horse, 225 The Great Bed of Ware, . 229 Lady Carried in a Sedan, temp. George II., .... 231 Throwing the Pancake on Slirove Tuesday in Westminster School, 237 The Flogging-horse, Free School, Lichfield, .... 240 ' The Generous Repulse,' . 243 Sculpture on Thynne's Monument, in Westminster Abbey, . . 248 St Valentine's Day, Emblematic Illustration, .... 255 St Valentine's Letter-shower, 255 The Great Tun of Heidelberg, . 260 De Saussure ascending Mont Blanc, 267 Funeral Garlands, Ashford-in-the- Water Church, . . .273 Funeral Garland, Matlock Church, 273 Henry, Prince of Wales, . . 275 ' So Sleep came upon him,' . 277 Bell Inn, Warwick Lane, . 278 Oxford Arms Inn, Warwick Lane, 279 The Archduke of Austria consvdt- ing a Fortune-teUer, . . 282 Portrait : George Washington, 285 Armorial Bearings of the Wash- ingtons, 286 Portrait : Rev. Sydney Smith, 287 Staircase in Sir Joshua Reynolds's House, Leicester Square, . 289 A Silver Pomander, . . 291 Ballet of Dogs and Monkeys, . 293 A Monkey Town besieged by Dogs, 294 Portrait : WilliamKitchiner,M.D.,299 Spanish Commander's Sword, pre- sented by Nelson to Norwich, 301 Ancient Bell Foundry Stamps, (nine cuts), .... 302 Portrait : Mary Honeywood, aged 93, 307 Emblematic Vignette : March, 311 Initial Letter : March, . . 311 St David, Emblematic Portrait, 315 Caxton's House, Westminster, . 317 Dedication to Duke of Clarence, 318 Strawberry Hill, Grand Gallery, 323 Papal Cursing Bell for Animals, 324 Summer - House at Honfleur, Refuge of Louis Philippe, . 326 The Merry Undertakers, . 330 Simnel Cakes, .... 336 Canterbury POgrim Signs (3 cuts), 339 Portrait : William Cobbett, . 345 Miss Linwood's Exhibition of Needlework, .... 349 Old London Shops (six cuts), 350-51-62 The Three Witches of Belvoir, 356 Interior of Old St Paul's, . . 359 The Butchers' Serenade, . 360 Portrait : Professor Daniell, . 365 OldSarum, .... 370 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE PAGE PAGE The Greybeard Jug, . . .371 Shakspeare's Burial-place and Norwegian Bride, . . . 721 ; The Globe Theatre, . . 3S0 Monument, Stratford-upon-Avon ' The First Kiss these Ten Brydges and Sterne as Mounte- Church, 544 Years,' 724 banks, 388 St Mark's Eve, ... 550 Lord Howe's Victory of the 1st of Portrait : Lady M. W. Montagu, 389 Cromwell's Baptismal Register, 551 June, 1794, . . . .725 Pi-occssion of the Ass, . . 396 Ninewclls House, Birthplace of St Patrick's Purgatory, . . 726 The Gad- whip, .... 398 Da\dd Hume, .... 555 The Maiden, .... 728 1 Autograph : Isaac Nc^\'ton, . 399 Walton Chamber, . . . 558 'The Bear,' at Cmnnor, . . 735 House at Nottingham iji which Cowper Thornhill's ride, . . 561 Visiting Cards of ISth and 19th Henry I\ii-ke Wliite was bom, 402 Quarter-staff, Sherwood Forest, 563 Centuries (six cuts), . 738-39-40 Grand Master of tlie Templars, 40-4 Emblematic Vignette : May, 565 Portrait : Jeremy Bentham, . 741 1 Autograph : Pedro the Cruel, . 407 Initial Letter : May, . . . 565 Revolution House, Whittington, 746 Canipden House, . . . 410 Raising of the May-pole, . 572 Vaults at Lady Place, . . 746 Maundy Money, .... 412 Children's May-day Customs, . 573 The 'No-Popei-y Riots' in London, 748 Autograph : Queen Elizabeth, 414 Milkmaids' Dance on May-day, 574 The Dunmow Procession, 1751, . 750 Manor House of Stoke-Pogis, . 415 May-poles, English and Foreign The Dunmow Chair, . . 751 The Holy Coat of Treves, . 420 (five cuts), .... 575-76 Portrait : Schamyl, . . .757 ; Italian Penitent in Lent Proces- May-queen in South of France, 580 Schamyl's Order of Bravery, . 758 1 sions, 421 Beating the Bounds in London, 584 Group of Fashionables of the Preaching Cross, St Paid's, 1620, 423 The Beggars' Opera, as first per- Male Sex, reign of WiUiam HI., 761 The Pope Carried in St Peter's formed (two cuts), . . . 594 Lady and Gentleman Meeting in Churcli on Easter Day, . . 426 The Hall Well, Tissington, as the Fashionable Promenade, High Cross of Chester, . . 428 Dressed for Ascension Day, . 595 reign of George I., . . 761 Trumpeter and Herald in the Whipping-post and Stool, . 599 Group of Park Fashionables, time Chester Festivities, . . 430 Parish Stocks, .... 599 of George II., ... 762 Easter Singers in the Tyrol, . 432 Master John Shorne, . . 610 Group of Park Fashionables, Hendlip House, .... 434 Portrait : Colonel Blood, . . 612 about 1780, . . . .762 Effigy of Su- Thomas Parkyns, 437 The Imperial Crown, . . 014 Portrait : 'The Old Pretender,' 764 Portrait : Captain Coram, by Portrait : Annie Wilson of Roslin, 623 Gateway of Boarstall House, Hogarth, 438 'Prentice's Pillar, &c. (four cuts), 624 and Ground-plan, . . . 766 Fantoccini in London, . . 449 The Morris-dancers, . . . 631 Picture from the Chartulary of Emblematic Yignette : April, . 452 Chester Mystery Plays, . . 634 Boarstall, . . . .768 Initial Letter : April, . . 452 Whitsunday Fete at Naples, . 638 English Bowmen, . . . 776 Hackney Coachman, temp. A Statute Fair, . . . 644 St Anthony Preaching to the Charles n., . . . .460 Archbishop Parker's Salt-vat, . 648 Fishes, 777 April Fool's Day, ... 461 Portrait : Corporal Macpherson, 050 Tongue of St Anthony in its The Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 The Mischianza Ticket, . . 051 Shrine at Padua, . . . 778 Mallet and Ball formerly used in Garrat Elections (three cuts), 662-63 Portrait : Edward, the Black Prince, 781 the Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 Cliefden House, as before 1795, 664 Autograph : John Wesley, . 789 The Old Fleet Prison, . . 466 Boot, Glove, &c., of Henry VL, 669 Burlesque Armorial Bearings— Joe Haines addressing a Thea- Armorial Bearings of Nelthorpe, The Old and Young Club, . 792 tiical Audience from the back of Gray's Inn, co. Middlesex, . 671 The Undertakers, . . 792 of an Ass, .... 476 The Iron Crown of Italy, . 673 The Duke of Norfolk, . 793 Stow's Monument, . . . 479 Linnaeus Travelling in Lapland, 676 Seymour, Duke of Somerset, 793 A Turnspit at Work, . . 490 Autograph : Charles, Duke of Attorney-General, as a ' Sup- The BeUman of Holboni, . 496 Orleans, 682 porter,' . . . .793 Kent's Dubious Altar-piece, . 501 Pepys's House, Buckingham Street, 083 Children's Altar at the Fete Dieu, 795 Eush Bearing, .... 506 Vauxhall, 1751, . . . .091 Cradle of King James I. of England, 796 The Pvush-holder, . . .507 Boscobel House, . . . 695 Portrait : Eleanour Rumming, . 801 Mountebank distributing his Coat of Arms of Colonel Careless, 696 Captain Backhouse's Tomb, . 804 Wares on the Stage, . . 512 Silver Cup of Barber Surgeons' Book-Fish, . . . .811 Knife, Fork, and Spoon (in a case) Company of London, . . 696 Creslow Church, North Side, 812 of Prince Charles Stuart, . 520 Autograph : Duchess of Marl- Creslow Manor-house, . . 812 Knife, Fork, and Spoon (separ- borough, .... 700 Collar of the Order of the Garter, 817 ately), 520 The Tailors' Arbour, Shrewsbui-y, 705 Bamborough Castle, . . . 818 Jemmy Wood's House, Gloucester, 529 The Shoemakers' Arbour, . . 706 St Anne's Well, Buxton, deco- Paper Marks (six cuts), . . 532-33 The Procession, . . . 707 rated, 819 Signs and Tokens of London Inns Portrait : Cecily, Duchess of York, 712 Silhouette Portrait : David (six cuts), . . . 535-38 The Cotswold Games, . . 714 Williams, . . . .826 St George and Dragon, . . 539 Emblematic Vignette : June, . 715 Pillory, 830 Portrait : William Shakspeare, . 542 Initial Letter : June, . . . 715 Pillory for a Number of Persons, 830 Birthplace of Shakspeare, . 542 Initial Letter : June, . . 719 Gates in the Pillory, . . .832 CORRIGENDA TO VOL. I, Page 120 : the article on the Legal Prosecutions of the Lower Animals, ought to have been placed m connection with St Anthony of Padua, under June 13. TIME AND ITS NATURAL MEASURERS. 366, is one of tliose tilings whick can- not be defined. We only know or become sensible of it tlirougli certain processes of nature wliicli require it for their being car- ried on and perfected, and to- wards wliicli it may therefore be said to bear a relation. We only appreciate it as a fact in the uni- versal frame of things, when we are enabled by these means to measure it. Thus, the rotation of the earth on its axis, the process by which we obtain the alternation of day and night, takes a certain space of time. This, multiplied by gives the time required for the revolution of 1 the earth around the sun, the process by which we enjoy the alternations of the seasons. The life of a well-constituted man will, under fair condi- tions, last during about seventy siich spaces of time or years ; very rarely to a hundred. The cluster of individuals termed a nation, or consti- tuting a state, will pass through certain changes, inferring moral, social, and poUtical improve- ment, in the course of still larger spaces of time ; say several centuries : also certain processes of decay, requiring, perhaps, equal spaces of time. With such matters it is the province of history to deal ; and actually from this source we learn pretty clearly what has been going on upon tLe surface of the earth during about four thousand years. We have also reason, however, to con- clude, that our planet has existed for a prodigi- ously longer space of time than that. The THE BOOK OF DAYS. sculptures of Egypt are held by scliolars to imply that there was a political fabric of the monarchical kind in that countr}^ thirty-four centuries before the commencement of our pre- sent era. Eude Aveapous and implements of stone, iliut, and bone, found interred in countries now occupied by civilised people, point, in like manner, to the existence of savage nations in those regions at a time long before the com- mencement of history. Geology, or the exami- nation of the crust of the earth, still further prolongs our backward view of time. It shews that the earth has passed through a succession of ph3'sical changes, extending over a great series of ages ; that during the same time vege- table and animal life underwent great changes ; changes of one set of species for others ; an advancement from invertebrate to vertebrate animals, from fishes to reptiles, from reptiles to birds and mammifers ; of these man coming in the last. Thus it has happened that we could now give a biography of our little world, in which the four thousand years of written history would be multiplied many times over; and yet this vastly extended period must, after all, be regarded as but a point in that stretch of dura- tion which we call time. All beyond, where related facts fall us — above all, a beginning or an end to time — are inconceivable ; so entirely dependent is our idea of it upon measurement, or so purely, rather, may it be said to consist of measurement. What we are more immediately concerned with at present is the Yeae, the space of time required for a revolution of the earth around the sun, being about one-seventieth of the ordinary duration of a healthy human life. It is a period very interesting to us in a natural point of view, because within it are included all seasonal changes, and of it nearly everything else in our experi- ence of the appearances of the earth and sky is merely a repetition. Standing in this relation to us, the year has very reasonably become the unit of our ordinary reckonings of time when any larger space is concerned ; above all, in the statement of the progress and completion of human life. An old man is said to die full of years. Sis years have been few, is the affecting expression we use regarding one who has died in youth. The anniversary of an event makes an appeal to our feelings. We also speak of the history of a nation as its annals — the transac- tions of its succession of years. There must have been a sense of the value and importance of the year as a space of time from a very early period in the history of humanity, for even the simplest and rudest people would be sensible of ' the seasons' difference,' and of the cycle which the seasons formed, and wotild soon begin, by observations of the rising of the stars, to ascer- tain roughly the space of time which that cycle occupied. Striking, however, as the year is, and must always have been, to the senses of mankind, we can read.ily see that its value and character were not so liable to be appreciated as were those of the minor space of time during which the earth performed its rotation on its own axis. That space, within which the simple fathers of our 2 race saw light and dai-kness exchange possession of the earth — which gave themselves a waking and a sleeping time, and periodicised many others of their personal needs, powers, and sen- sations, as well as a vast variety of the obvious pro- cesses of external nature — must have impressed them as soon as reflection dawned in their minds ; and the Day, we may be very sure, there- fore, was amongst the first of human ideas. While thus obvious and thus important, the Day, to man's experience, is a space of time too frequently repeated, and amounting consequently to too large numbers, to be readily available iii any sortof historic reckoningor reference. ItisequaUy evident that, for such purposes, the year is a period too large to be in any great degree avail- able, until mankind have advanced considerably in mental culture. AVe accordingly find that, amongst rude nations, the intermediate space of time marked by a revolution of the moon — the Month — has always been first employed for his- torical indications. This completes the series of natural periods or denominations of time, unless we are to agree with those who deem the Weelc to be also such, one determined by the observa- tion of the principal aspects of the moon, as half in increase, full, half in decrease, and change, or simply by an arithmetical division of the month into four parts. All other denominations, as hours, minutes, &c., are unquestionably arbi- trary, and some of them comparatively modern ; in fact, deduced from clockwork, without which they coiild never have been measured or made sensible to us. )it Wimt. Why sit'st thou by that ruined hall, Thou aged carle, so stern and gray ? Dost thou its former pride recall, Or ponder how it passed away ? Kuow'st thou not me ? the Deep Voice cried, So long enjoyed, so oft misused — Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused ? Before my breath, like blazing flax, Man and his marvels pass away ; And changing empu-es wane and wax, Are foimded, flourish, and decay. Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, And measureless thy joy or grief. When Time and thou shalt part for ever ! The Antiquary. LONDON LEGEND OF THE CLOCK WHICH STRUCK THIRTEEN, AND SAVED A man's LIFE. There is a traditionary story very widely dif- fused over the country, to the effect that St Paul's clock on one occasion struck thirteen at midnight, with the extraordinary result of saving the life of a sentinel accused of sleeping at his post. It is not much less than half a century TIME AND ITS MEASUEEES. since the writer heard the tale related in a remote part of Scotland. In later times, the question has been put, Is there any historic basis for this tra- dition ? followed by another still more pertinent, Is the alleged fact mechanically possible ? and to both an afiirmative answer has been given. An obituary notice of John Hatfield, who died at his house in Glasshouse-yard, Aldersgate, on the 18th of June 1770, at the age of 102— which notice appeared in the Public Advertiser a few days afterwards — states that, when a soldier in the time of William and Mary, he was tried by a court-martial, on a charge of having fallen asleep when on duty upon the terrace at Wind- sor. It goes on to state — ' He absolutely denied the charge against him, and solemnly declared [as a proof of his having been awake at the time], that he heard St Paid's clock strike thirteen, the truth of which was much doubted by the court because of the great distance. But while he was under sentence of death, an affidavit was made by several persons that the clock actually did strike thirteen instead of twelve ; whereupon he received his majesty's pardon.' It is added, that a recital of these circumstances was en- graved on the coffin-plate of the old soldier, ' to satisfy the world of the truth of a story which has been much doubted, though he had often confirmed it to many gentlemen, and a few days before his death told it to several of his acquaintances.' An allusion to the story occurs in a poem styled A Trip to Windsor, one of a volume published in- 1774 under the title of Weeds of Parnassus, by Timotliy Scribble : ' The terrace walk we with surprise behold, Of which the giudes have oft the story told : Hatfield, accused of sleeping on his post, Heard Paul's beU sounding, or his life had lost. ' A correction, however, must here be applied — namely, that the clock which struck on this im- portant occasion was Tom of Westminster, which was afterwards removed to St Paid's. It seems a long way for the sound to travel, and when we think of the noises which fill this bustling city even at midnight, the possibility of its "being heard even in the suburbs seems faint. Yet we miist recollect that London was a much quieter town a hundred and fifty years ago than now, and the fact that the tolling of St Paul's has often been heard at Windsor, is undoubted. There might, moreover, be a favourable state of the atmosphere. As to the query, Is the striking of thirteen mechanically possible? a correspondent of the Notes and Queries has given it a satisfactory answer.*_ ' AU striking clocks have two spindles for winding: one of these is for the going part, which turns the hands, and is connected with and regulated by the pendulum or balance- spring. Every time that the minute hand comes to twelve, it raises a catch connected with the striking part (which has been standing still for the previous sixty minutes), and the striking work then makes as many strokes on the bell (or spring gong) as the space between the notch which the catch has left and the next notch allows. When the catch falls into the next notch, * Second Series, vii. 14. it again stops the striking work till the minute hand reaches twelve again an hour afterwards. Now, if the catch be stiff", so as not to fall into the notch, or the notch be worn so as not to hold it, the clock will strike on till the catch does hold. ... If a clock strike midnight and the succeeding hour together, there is thirteen at once, and very simply. ... If the story of St Paul's clock be true, and it only happened once, it must have been from stiffness or some mecha- nical obstacles.' In connection with the above London legend, it is worthy of remark that, on the morning of Thursday the 14th of March 1861, ' the inhabi- tants of the metropolis were roused by repeated strokes of the new great beU of Westminster, and most persons supposed it was for a death in the royal family. It proved, however, to be due to some derangement of the clock, for at four and five o'clock, ten or twelve strokes were struck instead of the proper number.' The gentleman who communicated this fact through the medium of the Notes and Queries, added: ' On mentioning this in the morning to a friend, who is deep in London antiquities, he observed that there is an opinion in the city that anything the matter with St Paul's great bell is an omen of ill to the royal family; and he added: "I hope the opinion will not extend to the Westminster bell." This was at 11 on Friday morning. I see this morning that it was not till 1 a.m. the lamented Duchess of Kent was considered in the least danger, and, as you are aware, she expired in less than twenty-four hours.' DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A WATCH AND A CLOCK. A watch differs from a clock in its having a vibrating wheel instead of a vibrating pendu- lum; and, as in a clock, gravity is always pulling the pendulum down to the bottom of its arc, which is its natural place of rest, but does not fix it there, because the momentum acquired during its fall from one side carries it up to an equal height on the other — so in a watch a spring, generally spiral, surrounding the axis of the balance-wheel, is always pulling this towards a middle position of rest, but does not fix it there, because the momentum acquired during its ap- proach to the middle position from either side carries it just as far past on the other side, and the spring has to begin its work again. The balance-wheel at each vibration allows one tooth of the adjoining wheel to pass, as the pendulum does in a clock ; and the record of the beats is preserved by the wheel which follows. A main- spring is used to keep up the motion of the watch, instead of the weight used in a clock ; and as a spring acts equally well whatever be its position, a watch keeps time though carried in the pocket, or in a moving ship. In winding up a watch, one turn of the axle on which the key is fixed is rendered equivalent, by the train of wheels, to about 400 turns or beats of the balance-wheel; and thus the exertion, during a few seconds, of the hand which winds up, gives motion for twenty- four or thirty hours. — Dr. Arnott. 3 The Year. Tlio length, of the year is strictly expressed by the space of time required for the revolution of the earth round the sun — namely, 365 days, 5 houi's, 48 minutes, 49 seconds, and 7 tenths of a second, for to such a nicety has this time been ascertained. But for conrenience in reck- oning, it has been found necessary to make the year terminate with a day instead of a frac- tion of one, lumping the fractions together so as to make up a day among themselves. About forty-five years before Christ, Julius Caesar, hav- ing, by the help of Sosigenes, an Alexandrian philosopher, come to a tolerably clear under- standing of the length of the year, decreed that every fourth year should be held to consist of 366 days for the purpose of absorbing the odd hours. The arrangement he dictated was a rather clumsy one. A day in February, the sixth before the calends of March {sextilis), was to be repeated in that fourth year; and each fourth year was thus to be bissextile. It was as if we were to reckon the 23d of February twice over. Seeing that, in reality, a day every fourth year is too much by 11 minutes, 10 seconds, and 3 tenths of a second, it inevitably followed that the beginning of the year moved onward ahead of the point at which it was in the days of Csesar ; in other words, the natural time fell behind the reckoning. From the time of the Council of Nice, in 325, when the vernal equinox fell correctly on the 21st of March, Pope Gre- gory found in 1582 that there had been an over- reckoning to the extent of ten days, and now the vernal equinox fell on the 11th of March. To correct the j)ast error, he decreed that the 5th of October that year should be reckoned as the 15th, and to keep the year right in future, the overplus being 18 hours, 37 minutes, and 10 seconds in a century, lie ordered that every cen- turial year that could not be divided by 4, (1700, 1800, 1900, 2100, 2200, &c.) should not be bissex- tile, as it otherwise would be ; thus, in short, dropping the extra day three times every four hundred j^ears. The Gregorian style, as it was called, readily obtained sway in Catholic, but not in Protestant countries. It was not adopted in Britain till the year 1752, by which time the discrepancy between the Julian and Gregorian periods amounted to eleven days. An act of par- liament was passed, dictating that the 3d of Sep- tember that year should be reckoned the 14th, and that three of every four of the centurial years should, as in Pope Gregory's arrangement, not be bissextile or leap-years. It has conse- quently arisen — 1800 not having been a leap- year — that the new and old styles now differ by twelve days, the 1st of January old style being the 1 3th of the month neAv style. In Russia alone, of all Christian countries, is the old style still retained ; wherefore it becomes necessary for one writing in that country to any foreign correspondent, to set down his date thus : \f^ March, or '-^S^i^-' ; ^•» U ^-.o-rr l.« 28th December I860 or, it may be -9 ,1, January .86l ' ' The old style is still retained in the accounts of Her Majesty's Treasury. This is why the Christmas dividends are not considered due till Twelfth Day, nor the midsummer dividends till the 5th of July ; and in the same way it is not until the 5th of April that Lady Day is supposed to arrive. There is another piece of antiquity visible in the public accounts. In old times, the year was held to begin on the 25th of March, and this usage is also still observed in the com- putations over which the Chancellor of the Ex- chequer presides. The consequence is, that the first day of the financial year is the 5th of April, being old Lady Day, and with that day the reckonings of our annual budgets begin and end.' — Times, February 16, 1861. The Day. There came the Day and Night, Riding together both with equal pace ; The one on palfrey black, the other white ; But Night had covered her uncomely face With a black veil, and held in hand a mace, On top whereof the moon and stars were pight, And sleep and darkness round about did trace : But Day chd bear upon his scejitre's height The goodly sun encompassed with beames bright. Spenser. The day of nature, being strictly the time required for one rotation of the earth on its axis, 4 is 23 hours, 56 minutes, 4 seconds, and 1 tenth of a second. In that time, a star comes round to appear in the same place where we had formerly seen it. But the earth, having an additional motion on its orbit round the sun, requires about 3 minutes, 56 seconds more, or 24 hours in all, to have the sun brought round to appear at the same place ; in other words, for any place on the surface of the earth to come to the meridian. Thus arises the difference between a sidereal day and a solar day, between apparent and mean time, as will be more particularly explained elsewhere. THE DAY. Fixing our attention for the present upon the solar day, or day of mean time, let us remark in the first place that, amongst the nations of anti- qviity, there were no divisions of the day beyond what were indicated by sun-rise and sun-set. Even among the Eomans for many ages, the only point in the earth's daily revolution of which any public notice was taken was mid-day, which they used to announce by the sound of trumpet, whenever the sun was observed shining straight along between the Forum and a place called Graecostasis. To divide the day into a certain number of parts was, as has been remarked, an arbitrary arrangement, which only could be adopted when means had been invented of mechanically measuring time. We accordingly find no allusion to hours in the covirse of the Scriptural histories till we come to the Book of Daniel, who lived 552 years before Christ. 'Then Daniel, whose name was Belteshazzar, was aston- ished for one hour, and his thoughts troubled him.' The Jews and the Romans alike, on intro- ducing a division of the day into twenty-four hours, assigned equal numbers to day and night, without regard to the varying length of these portions of the solar day ; consequently, an hour was with them a varying quantity of time, accord- ing to the seasons and the latitude. Afterwards, the plan of an equal division was adopted, as was also that of dividing an hour into 60 minutes, and a minute into 60 seconds. Before the hour division was adopted, men could only speak of such vague natural divisions as morning and evening, forenoon and afternoon. or make a reference to their rneal-times. And these indications of time have still a certain hold upon us, partly because they are so natural and obvious, and partly through the effect of tradi- tion. All before dinner is, with us, still morn- ing^notwithstanding that the meal has nominally been postponed to an evening hour. The Scotch, long ago, had some terms of an original and poetical nature for certain periods of the day. Besides the dawhi for the dawn, they spoke of the skreigh o' day, q. d., the cry of the coming day. Their term for the dusk, the gloaming, has been much admired, and is making its way into use in England. Intimately connected with the day is the Week, a division of time which, whatever trace of a natural origin some may find in it, is certainly in a great measure arbitrary, since it does not consist in all countries of the same number of days. The week of Christian Europe, and of the Christian world generally, is, as is well known, a period of seven days, derived from the Jews, whose sacred scriptures represent it as a commemoration of the world having been created by God in six days, with one more on which he rested from his work, and which he therefore sanctified as a day of rest. Of weeks there are 52, and one day over, in ordinary years, or two days over in leap-years ; and hence the recurrence of a particiUar day of the month never falls in an immediately succeed- ing year on the same day of the week, but on one a day iu advance in the one case, and tAvo in the other. Every twenty-eight years, however, the days of the month and the days of the week once more coincide. The week, with its terminal day among the Jews, and its initial day among the Christians, observed as a day of rest and of devotion, is to be regarded as in the main a religious institution. Considering, however, that the days have only various names within the range of one week, and that by this period many of the ordinary operations of life are determined and arranged, it must be deemed, independently of its connec- tion with religion, a time-division of the highest importance. While the Romans have directly given us the names of the months, we have immediately derived those of the days of the week from the Saxons. Both among the Romans, however, and the Saxons, the several days were dedicated to the chief national deities, and in the characters of these several sets of national deities there is, in nearly every instiince, an obvious analogy and correspondence ; so that the Roman names of the days have undergone little more than a transla- tion in the Saxon and consequently English names. Thus, the first day of the week is Sunnan- daeg with the Saxons ; IJies Sol is with the Ro- mans. Monday is 3fona7i-daeg 'with the Saxons ; Dies LiuicE with the Romans. Tuesday is, among the Saxons, Tues-daeg — that is, Tuesco's Day — from Tuesco, a mythic person, supposed to have been the first warlike leader of the Teutonic nations : among the Romans it was Dies Martis, the day of Mars, their god of war. The fourth day of the week was, among the Saxons, Woden s- daeg, the day of Woden, or Oden, another mythical being of high warlike reputation among the northern nations, and the nearest in character to the Roman god of war. Amongst the Romans, however, this day was Dies Iilercurii, Mercury's Day. The fifth day of the week, Thors-daeg of the Saxons, was dedicated to their god Thor, who, in his supremacy over other gods, and his attribute of the Thunderer, corresponds very exactly with Jupiter, whose day this was {Dies Jovis) among the Romans. Friday, dedicated to Venus among the Romans [Dies Veneris), was named by the Saxons, in honoiir of their corre- sponding deity (Flnga), Frigedaeg. The last day of the week took its Roman name of Dies Saturni, and its Saxon appellative of Seater-daeg, respect- ively from deities who approach each other in character. It may be remarked, that the modern German names of the days of the week correspond toler- ably well with the ancient Saxon : Sonntag, Sun- day ; Montag, Monday ; Dienstag, Tuesday ; MitUcocJie, raid-week day [this does not corre- spond, but Godenstag, which is less used, is Woden's day] ; Donnerstag, Thursday [this term, meaning the Thunderer's day, obviously corre- sponds with Thors-daeg] ; Freitag, Friday ; Sam- stag or Sonnahend, Saturday [the latter term means eve of Sunday]. The French names of the days of the week, on the other hand, as befits a language so largely framed on a Latin basis, are like those of ancient Rome : Dimanche [the Lord's Day], Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi. With reference to the transference of honour 5 THE BOOK OF DAYS. from Eoman to Saxon deities in our names of tlie days of the week, a quaint poet of the last cen- tmy thus expresses himself: ' The Sun still rules the week's initial day, The Moon o'er JNIonday yet retains the sway ; But Tuesdaj', which to Mars Avas whilom given, Is Tuesco's subject in the northern heaven ; And Woden hath the charge of Wednesday, Which did belong of old to Mercmy; And Jove himself surrenders his own day To Thor, a barbarous god of Saxon clay : Friday, who under Venus once did wield Lo\o's balmy sjiells, must now to Frea jdeld ; While Saturn stdl holds fast his day, but loses The Sabbath, which the central Sun abuses. Just like the days do persons change their masters. Those gods who them protect against disasters ; And souls which were to natal genii given. Belong to guardian angels up in heaven : And now each popish patron saint disgraces The ancient local Genius's strong places. Mufamus et mutamur — what's the odds If men do sometimes change their plaything gods ! The liual Jujiiter will e'er remain Unchanged, and always send us wind and rain. And warmth and cold, and day and shady night. Whose starry pole wdl shine with Cynthia's hght : Xor does it matter much, where Prudence reign, What other gods their empire shall retain.' THE DAY ABSOLUTE AND THE DAY PRACTICAL. While the day absolute is readily seen to be measured by a single rotation of our globe on its axis, the day practical is a very different affair. Every meridian has its own practical day, differ- ing from the practical day of every other meridian. That is to say, take any line of places extending between the poles; at the absolute moment of noon to them, it is midnight to the line of places on the antipodes, and some other hour of the day to each similar line of places between. Conse- quently, the denomination of a day — say the 1st of January — reigns over the earth during two of its rotations, or forty-eight hours. Another result is, that in a circumnavigation of the globe, you gain a day in reckoning by going eastward, and lose one by going westward— a fact that first was revealed to mankind at the conclusion of Magel- lan's voyage in September 1522, when the sur- viving mariners, finding themselves a day behind their countrymen, accused each other of sleeping or negligence, and thought such must have been the cause until the true one was explained. The mariners of enlightened European nations, m pursuing their explorations some centuries ago, everywhere carried with them their own nominal day, without regard to the slide which it performed in absolute time by their easterly and westerly movements. As they went east- ward, they found the expressed time always moving onward ; as they moved westwards, they found it falling backwards. Where the two lines of exploration met, there, of course, it was certain that the nominal days of the two parties would come to a decided discrepancy. The meeting was between Asia and America, and accordingly in that part of the world, the day is (say) Thurs- 6 day in one place, and Wednesday in another not very far distant. Very oddlj^, the extreme west of the North American continent having been settled by Russians who have come from the west, while the rest was colonized by Europeans from the opposite direction, a different expression of the day prevails there ; while, again, Manilla, in Asia, having been taken possession of by Spaniards coming from the east, differs from the day of our own East Indies. Thus the discre- pancy overlaps a not inconsiderable space of the earth's surface. It arises as a natural consequence of these facts, that throughout the earth there is not a simultaneous but a consecutive keeping of the Sabbath. ' The inhabitants of Great Britain at eight o'clock on Sabbath morning, may realise the idea that at that hour there is a general Sabbath over the earth from the furthest east to the furthest west. The Hussians in America are finishing their latest vespers ; the Christians in our own colony of British Columbia are com- mencing their earliest matins. Among Christians throughout the world, the Sabbath is more or less advanced, except at Manilla, where it is commenced at about four o'clock p.m. on our Sabbath. At the first institution of the Sabbath in the Garden of Eden, it was finished in the space of twenty-four hours ; but now, since Christians are found in every meridian under the sun, the Sabbath, from its very commencement to its final close, extends to forty-eight, or rather to fifty-sis hours, by taking the abnormal state of Manilla into account.' * DAY AND NIGHT, AS CONNECTED WITH ANIMAL LIFE. 'Every animal, after a period of activity, becomes exhausted or fatigued, and a period of repose is necessary to recruit the weakened ener- gies and qualify the system for renewed exertion. . . . . In the animals whicli are denominated D'mrnal, including man, daylight is requisite for enabling them to provide their food, protection, and comfort, and to maintain that correspondence with one another which, in general, is requisite for the preservation of the social compact. Such animals rest during the night ; and in order to guard the system from the influence of a cold connected with the descending branch of the curve,t and peculiarly injurious to an exhausted frame, they retire to places of shelter, or assume particular positions, until the rising sun restores the requisite warmth, and enables the renovated body to renew the ordinary labours of life. ' With the Nocturnal animals, on the other hand, the case is widely different. The daytime is the period of their repose; their eyes are * John Husband, in Notes and Queries, 2nd Series, vii. 51. t By the curve, the writer means a formula for ex- pressing in one wavy line the rises and falls of the ther- mometer in the course of a certain space of time. THE MONTHS. adapted for a scanty light, hearing and smelling co-operate, and the objects of their prey are most accessible. Even among diurnal animals, a cessa- tion of labour frequently takes place during the day. Some retire to the shade ; others seek for the coolness of a marsh or river, while many birds indulge in the pleasure of dusting them- selves. ' Crowing of the CocJc. The time-marking pro- pensities of the common cock during the night- season have long been the subject of remark, and conjectures as to the cause very freely indulged in. The bird, in ordinary circum- stances, begins to crow after midnight, and [he also crows] about daybreak, with usually one intermediate effort. It seems impossible to over- look the connection between the times of crowing and the minimum temperature of the night ; nor can the latter be viewed apart from the state of the dew-point, or maximum degree of dampness. Other circumstances, however, exercise an influ- ence, for it cannot be disputed that the times of crowing of different individuals are by no means similar, and that in certain states of the weather, especially before rain, the crowing is continued nearly all day. ' Paroxysms of Disease. The attendants on a sick-bed are well aware, that the objects of their anxiety experience, in ordinary circumstances, the greatest amount of suffering between mid- night and daybreak, or the usual period of the crowing of the cock. If we contemplate a frame, at this period of the curve, weakened by disease, we shall see it exposed to a cold temperature against which it is ill qualified to contend. JSTor is this all ; for, while diy air accelerates evapora- tion, and usually induces a degree of chilliness on the skin, moist air never fails to produce the effect by its increased conducting power. The depressed temperature and the air approaching to saturation, at the lowest point of the curve, in their combined influences, act with painful energy, and require from an intelligent sick-nurse a due amount of counteracting arrangements.' — Dr. John Fleming on the Temperature of the Seasons. Edinburgh, 1852. THE MONTHS. Our arbitrary division of the year into twelve months, has manifestly taken its origin in the natural division determined by the moon's revo- lutions. The month of nature, or lunar revolution, is strictly 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 3 seconds ; and there are, of course, twelve such periods, and rather less than 11 days over, in a year. From an early period, there were efforts among some of the civilised nations to arrange the year in a division accordant with the revolutions of the moon ; but they were all strangely irregular till Julius Caesar reformed the Calendar, by estab- lishing the system of three years of 365 followed by one (bissextile) of 366 days, and decreed that the latter should he divided as follows : Januarius, . 31 days Februarius, 30 „ Martius, . 31 „ Aprilis, .... 30 „ Mains, .... . 31 , Junius, .... 30 „ Quintilis (altered to Julius), . 31 „ Sextilis, .... 30 „ September, • 31 „ October, .... 30 „ November, • 31 „ December, .... 30 „ 365 „ The general idea of Csesar was, that the months should consist of 31 and 30 days alternately ; and this was effected in the bissextile or leap-year, consisting, as it did, of twelve times thirty with six over. In ordinary years, consisting of one day less, his arrangement gave 29 days to Febru- arius. Afterwards, his successor Augustus had the eighth of the series called after himself, and from vanity broke up the regularity of Caesar's arrangement by taking another day from Feb- ruary to add to his own month, that it might not be shorter than July ; a change which led to a shift of October and December for September and November as months of 31 days. In this arrangement, the year has since stood in aU Christian countries. The Roman names of the months, as settled by Augustus, have also been used in all Christian countries excepting Holland, where the following set of names prevails : January, . February, . March, . April, . May, . . June, . . July, . . August, . September, October, . November, December, chilly month, vegetation month, spring month, grass month, flower month, summer month, hay month, harvest month, autumn month, wine month, slaughter month, winter month. Lauwmaand, Sprokelmaand, Lentmaand, . Grasmaand, . Blowmaand,. Zomermaand, Hooymaand, Oostmaand, . Herstmaand, Wynmaand, . Slagtmaand, Wiutermaand, ' These characteristic names of the months are the remains of the ancient Gaulish titles, which were also used by our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.' — Brady. * Amidst the heats of the Revolution, the French Convention, in October 1793, adopted a set of names for the months, somewhat like that kept up in Holland, their year standing thus : French Months. Signification. English Months. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Summer. 1. Vindemaire 2. Brumaire, 3. Frimaire, . , Vintage, . . . Foggy, . . . . Frosty or Sleety,. Sept. 22. Oct. 22. Nov. 21. 4. Nivose, . . 5. Pluviose, . 6. Ventose, . Snowy, . . . . Rainy, .... Windy, . . . Dec. 21. Jan, 20. Feb. 19. 7. Germinal, . 8. Floreal, . 9. Prairial, . Springing orBuddin Flowery, . . . Hay Harvest, g,Mar. 21. Apr. 20. May 20. 10. I\Iessidor, . 11. Thermidor, 12. Fructidor, Corn Harvest, . . Hot, Fruit, June 19. July 19. Aug. 18. Analysis of the Calendar. THE BOOK OF DAYS. Five clays at the end, eorresponding to oiii- ITth, ISth. loth. 20th. and 21st of September, were supphnneiitarv. and named f;a}!s-ci!lofiide.'i, in honour of the lialf-naked p(^])idaee who took so prominent a part in the all'airs of the Ivcvohi- tion. At the same time, to extinocission of the People and. also of the IVether, tvith certain Electyons and Tymes chosen both for Phisihe and Surgerye, and for the husbandman. And also for jflawekyng, Huntyng, Fishyng, and Foulynge, according to the 8cie7ice of Astronomy, made for the Yeare of our lord God M.D.L., Calculedfor the Merydyan of Yorhe, and practiced by Anthony AsTcham. At the end, ' Imprynted at London, in Flete Strete, at the Signe of the George, next to SayntDunstan's Church, by Wyllyam Powell, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.' Then follows the Prognos- tication, the title-page to which is as follows : A Prognossicacion for the Yere of our Lord M.CCCCC.L., Calculed upon the Merydyan of the Toivne of Amvarpe and the Country thereabout, by Master Peter of Moorbeehe, Doctour in Phy- siclce of the same Towne, whereunto is added the Judgment of M. Cornelius Schute, Doctour in Physicke of the Towne of Bruges in Flanders, upon and concerning the Disposicion, Fstate, and Condicion of certaine Prynces, Contreys, and Regions, for the present Yere, gathered outeofhis Prognossicacion for the same Yere. Translated ALMANACS. oute of Duck into Englyshe hy William Harrys. At the end, ' Imprynted at London Ijy John Daye, dwellyne over Aldersgate, and Wyllyam Seres, dwellyne in Peter CoUedge. These Sokes are to be sold at the Newe Shop by the Lytle Conduyte in Chepesyde.' ' An AlmanacTce and Prognosticatyon for the Yeare of our Lorde MDLI., practysed by Simon Senringius and Lodotcyke Boyard, Doctors in Physike aiid Astronomye, Sfc. At Worcester in the Hygh Strete.' ' A Newe Almanacke and Prognostication, Col- lected for the Yere of our Lord MDL VIII. , toherein is expressed the Change and Full of the Moone, with their Quarters. The Varietie of the Ayre, and also of the Windes throughout the whole Yere, with Infortunate Times to Pie and Sell, take Medicine, Soive, Plant, and Journey, Sfc. Made for the Meridian of Norioich and Pole Arcticke LII. Degrees, and serving for all England. By William Kenningham, Physician. Imprynted at London by Jokn Daye, dwelling over Alders- Leonard Digges, a mathematician of some emi- nence, and the author of two or three practical treatises on geometiy and mensuration, was also the author of a Prognosticatioii,v;hich. was several times reprinted under his own superintendence, and that of his son, Thomas Digges.* It is not properly an almanac, but a sort of companion to the almanac, a collection of astrological ma- terials, to be used by almanac-makers, or by the public generally. It is entitled A Prognostication everlasti7ig of Right Good Effect, fructfully aug- mented hy the Author, containing Plaine, Briefe, Pleasant, Chosen Rules to judge the Weather by the Sunne, 3Ioon, Star res, Comets, Rainboto, Thunder, Cloicdes, with other Extraordinary Tokens, not omitting the Aspects of Planets, with a Briefe Judgement for ever, of Plentie, lacke, Sicknes, Dearth, Warres, t^'c, opening also many naturall causes ^vorthie to be knoione. To these and other now at the last are joined divers generall pleasant Tables, toith many compendioxis Rules, easie to be had in memorie, manifolde wayes pro- fitable to all men of understanding. Published by Leonard Digges. Lately Corrected and Aug- mented by Thomas Digges, his sonne. London, 1605.' The first edition was published in 1553 ; the second edition, in 1555, was ' fructfully aug- mented,' and was ' imprynted at London within the Blacke Fryars.' In his preface he thus discourses concerning the influence of the stars (the spelling modernised) : ' What meteoroscoper, yea, who, learned in matters astronomical, noteth the great effects at the rising of the star called the Little Dog ? Truly, the consent of the most learned do agi'ee of his force. Yea, Pliny, in his History of Nature, affirms the seas to be then most fierce, wines to flow in cellars, standing waters to move, dogs inclined to madness. Fur- ther, these constellations rising — Orion, Arcturus, Corona — provoke tempestuous weather ; the Kid and Goat, winds ; Hyades, rain. What meteor- ologer consenteth not to the great alteration and mutation of air at the conjunction, opposition, or * L. T)\gg(>i' 9, Prognostication was published 1553, 1555, 1556, 1567, 1576, 1578, 1605. quadrant aspect of Saturn with either two lights P Who is ignorant, though poorly skilled in astro- nomy, that Jupiter, with Mercury or with the sun, enforces rage of winds ? What is he that perceives not the fearfvil thunders, lightnings, and rains at the meeting of Mars and Venus, or Jupiter and Mars ? Desist, for shame, to oppugn these judg- ments so strongly authorised. All truth, all experience, a multitude of infallible grounded rules, are against him.' In France, a decree of Henry III., in 1579, forbade all makers of almanacs to prophesy, di- rectly or indirectly, concerning affairs either of the state or of individuals. No such law was ever enacted in England. On the contrary, James I., allowing the liberty of prophesying to continue as before, granted a monopoly of the publication of almanacs to the two Universities and the Com- pany of Stationers. The Universities, however, accepted an annuity from their colleagues, and relinquished any active exercise of their privilege. Under the patronage of the Stationers' Company, astrology continued to flourish. Almanac-making, before this time,' had become a profession, the members of which generally styled themselves Philomaths, by which they probably meant that they were fond of mathema- tical science ; and the astrologers had formed themselves into a company, who had an annual dinner, which Ashmole, in his Diary, mentions having attended during several successive years. The Stationers' Company were not absolutely exclusive in their preference for astrological al- manacs. Whilst they furnished an ample supply for the credulous, they were willing also to sell what woiJd suit the taste of the sceptical ; for Allstree's Almanac in 1624 calls the supposed influence of the planets and stars on the human body ' heathenish,' and dissuades from astrology in the following doggrel lines : ' Let every philomathy Leave lying astrology ; And write true astronomy, And I '11 bear you company.' Thomas Decker, at a somewhat earlier period, evidently intending to ridicule the predictions of the almanac-m^akers, published Tiie Ravens Al- manacke. foretelling of a Plague, Famine, and Civill Warr, that shall happen this present yere, 1609. With certaine Remedies, Rules and Receipts, &c. It is dedicated ' To the Lyons of the Wood, to the AVilde Buckes of the Forrest, to the Harts of the Field, and to the whole country that are brought up wisely to prove Guls, and are born rich to dye Beggars.' By the Lyons, Buckes, and Harts, are meant the courtiers and gallants, or ' fast young men ' of the time. There was perhaps no period in which the pro- phetic almanacs were more eagerly purchased than during the civil wars of Charles I. and the parliament. The notorious William Lilly was one of the most influential of the astrologers and abnanac-makers at that time, and in his autobio- graphy not only exhibits a picture of himself little creditable to him, but furnishes portraits of several other almanac-makers of the seven- teenth century, Dr Dee, Dr Forman, Booker, Winder, Kelly, Evans, &c. The character of THE BOOK OF DAYS. Sidropliol in Jlitdihras lias been supposed to re- present Lilly, but probably Butler merely meant to hold up to ridicule and seorn the class of persons of whom Lilly may be regarded as a type. He was evidently a crafty, time-serving knave, who made a good living out of the credulity of his countrvmeu. He was consulted as an astrologer about "the aflairs of the king, but afterwards, in 1G15. when the royal cause began to decline, he became one of the" parliamentary party. He was born in 1G02. was educated at the grammar-school of Ashby-de-la-Zoueh, came to London when he was about eighteen years of age, aud spent the latter part of his life at Hersham, near Walton- on-Thames. where he died in 1G81. In the chapter of his autobiography, Of the Manner Jioto I came to London, he states that he was engaged as a servant in the house of Mr Gilbert Wright, who could neither read nor write, lived upon his annual rents, and was of no calling or profession. He states : ' jMy work was to go before my uiaster to chiu-ch ; to attend my master when he went abroad ; to make clean his shoes ; sweep the street ; help to drive bucks when he washed ; fetch water in a tub from the Thames (I have helped to carry eighteen tubs of water in one morning) ; weed the garden. All manner of di'udgeries I performed, scraped trenchers,' &c ' In 1644, 1 published Merllntts AngUcus Junior about April. In that year I published Frophetical Merlin, and had eight pounds for the copy.' Alluding to the comet which appeared in 1677, LiUy says : ' All comets signify wars, terrors, and strange events in the world.' He gives a curious explanation of the prophetic nature of these bodies : ' The spirits, well knowing what accidents shall come to pass, do form a star or comet, and give it what figure or shape they please, aud cause its motion through the air, that people might behold it, and thence draw a signification of its events.' Further, a comet appearing in the sign Taurus portends ' mortality to the greater part of cattle, as horses, oxen, cows, &c.,' and also ' prodigious shipwrecks, damage in fisheries, monstrous floods, and de- struction of fruit by caterpillars and other ver- mine.' LUly, in his autobiography, appears on one occasion to have acted in one of the meanest of capacities. There is no doubt that he was em- ployed as a spy ; but the chief source of income to Lilly, and to most of the other astrologers, was probably what was called casting nativities, and foretelling, or rather foreshadowing, the future events of the lives of individuals ; in fact, fortune- telling. It has been mentioned before that the Station- ers' Company had no objection to supply an almanac to the sceptics and scoffers who treated the celestial science with ridicule and contempt. Such an almanac was ' Poor Rohin, 1664 : an Almanack after a Neio Fashion, wherein the Reader ma}) see (if he he not hlinde) many Remarkable Tilings worthy of Ohservation, containing a Two- fold Kalender — viz., the Julian or English, and the Roundheads or Fanatics, with their several Saints' Daies, and Observations upon every Month. "Written by Poor Bobin, Knight of the Burnt Island, a well-wisher to the Mathematics ; calcu- lated for the Meridian of Saffron Walden, where the Pole is elevated 52 degrees and 6 minutes 12 above the Horizon. Printed for the Company of Stationers.' Poor Rohin has four lines of verse at the head of each of the odd pages of the Calendar. For instance, under January, we have ' Now blustering Boreas sends out of his quiver Arrows of snow and hail, which makes men shiver; And though we hate sects and their vile partakers, Yet those who want tires must now tiu-n Quakers.' As a specimen of his humour in prose, under January we are told that 'there will be much frost and cold weather in Greenland.' Under February, ' We may expect some showers of rain this month, or the next, or the next after that, or else we shaU have a very dry spring.' Poor Rohin first appeared in 1663. Eobert Herrick, the poet, is said to have assisted in the compilation of the early numbers. It was not discontinued till 1828. The humour of the whole series was generally coarse, with little of originality, and a great deal of indecency. In 1664, John Evelyn published his Kalen- darium Hortense, the first Gardener's Almanac, containing directions for the employment of each month. This was dedicated to the poet Cowley, who acknowledged the compliment in one of his best pieces, entitled ' The Garden.' It was per- haps in this almanac that there appeared a sage counsel, to which Sir Walter Scott somewhere alludes, as being presented in an almanac of Charles II. 's time — namely, that every man ought for his health's sake to take a country walk of a mUe, every morning before breakfast — ' and, if possible, let it he itpon your own ground.' The next almanac-maker to whom the attention of the public was particularly directed was John Partridge, chiefly in consequence of Swift's pre- tended prophecy of his death. Partridge was born in 1644. and died in 1714. He was brought up to the trade of a shoemaker, which he practised in Covent Garden in 1680 ; but having acquired some knowledge of Latin, astronomy, and astro- logy, he at length published an almanac. Swift began his humorous attacks by Predictions for the Year 1708, wherein the Month and the Day of the Month are set down, the Persons named, and the Great Actions and Events of Next Year ^lar- ticularly related as they will come to pass. Written to prevent the People of England from heing farther imposed iipon hy the Vulgar Almanac-mahers. After discussing with much gravity the subject of almanac-making, and censuring the almanac- makers for their methods of proceeding, he con- tinues as follows : ' But now it is time to proceed to my predictions, which I have begun to calcu- late from the time the sun enters Aries, and this I take to be properly the beginning of the natural year. I pursue them to the time when he enters Libra, or somewhat more, which is the busy time of the year ; the remainder I have not yet ad- justed,' &c. . . . ' My first prediction is but a trifle, yet I will mention it to shew how ignorant those sottish pretenders to astronomy are in their own concerns. It relates to Partridge the almanac- maker. I have consulted the star of his nativity by my own rules, and find he will infallibly die on the 29th of March next, about eleven at night, of a raging fever ; therefore, I advise him to con- THE CALENDAE— PRINTED ALMANACS. Bider of it, and settle liis affairs in time.' Partridge, after the 29tli of March, publicly denied that he had died, which increased the fun, and the game was kept up in The Taller. Swift wrote An Elecjy on the Supposed Death of Par- tridge, the Almanac-maker, followed by 'THE EPITAPH. Here, five foot deep, lies on his Lack A cobbler, starmonger, and quack. Who to the stars, in pure good-will, Does to his best look upward still. Weep, all ye customers, that use His pills, his almanacs, or shoes ; And you that chd yoiu- fortunes seek. Step to his gi-ave but once a week. This earth, which bears his body's print, You '11 find has so much virtue in 't. That I durst pawn my ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you fidl as well In i)hysic, stolen goods, or love, As he himself could when above.' Partridge, having studied physic as well as astro- logy, in 1682 styled himself ' Physician to his Majesty,' and was one of the sworn physicians of the court, but never attended nor received any salary. His real epitaph, and a list of some of his works, are printed by Granger in his Biographical History. Partridge wrote a life of his contem- porary almanac-maker, John Gadbury. The Vox Stellarum of Francis Moore was the most successful of the predicting almanacs. There has been much doubt as to whether Francis Moore was a real person, or only a pseudonym. A com- munication to Notes and Queries, vol. iii. p. 466. states that ' Francis Moore, physician, was one of the many quack doctors who duped the credulous in the latter period of the seventeenth century. He practised in Westminster.* In all probability, then, as in our own time, the publication of an almanac was to act as an advertisement of his healing powers, &c. Cookson, Salmon, Gadbury, Andrews, Tanner, Coley, Partridge, &c., were all predecessors, and were students in physic and astrology. Moore's Almanac appears to be a per- fect copy of Tanner's, which appeared in 1656, forty-two years prior to the appearance of Moore's. The portrait in Knight's London is certainly imaginary. There is a genuine and certainly very characteristic portrait, now of considerable rarity, representing him as a fat-faced man. in a wig and large neckcloth, inscribed "Francis Moore, born in Bridgenorth, in the county of Salop, the 29th of January 1656-7. John Dra- pentier, delin. et sculp." Moore appears to have been succeeded as compiler of the^/ma«ac by Mr Henry Andrews, who was born in 1744, and died at Poyston, Herts, in 1820. " Andrews was as- tronomical calculator to the Board of Longitude, and for manj^ years corresponded with Maskelyne * Francis Moore, in his Almanac for 1711, dates ' from the ijign of the Old Lilly, near the Old Barge House, in Christ Cliurch Parish, Southwark, July 19, 1710.' Then follows an advertisement in wliich he undertakes to cure diseases. Lysons mentions him as one of the remarkable men who, at different periods, resided at Lambeth, and says that his house was in Calcott's Alley, High Street, then called Back Lane, where he practised as astrologer, physician, and schoolmaster. and other eminent men." ' — Notes and Queries, vol. iv. p. 74. Mr Robert Cole, in a subsequent communication to Notes and Queries, vol. iv. p. 162. states that he had purchased from Mr William Henry Andrews of Royston, son of Henry Andrews, the whole of the father's manu- scripts, consisting of astronomical and astrolo- gical calculations, with a mass of very curious letters from persons desirous of having their nativities cast. Mr W. H. Andrews, in a letter addressed to Mr Cole, says : ' My father's calcu- lations. &c., for 'Moore's Almanac continued during a period of forty-three years, and although, through his great talent and management, he in- creased the sale of that work from 100,000 to 500,000. yet, strange to say, aU he received for his services was £25 per annum.' The Ladies' Diary, one of the most respectable of the English almanacs of the eighteenth cen- tury, was commenced in 1704. Disclaiming as- trology-, prognostications, and quackery, the editor undertook to introduce the fair sex to the study of mathematics as a source of entertain- ment as well as instruction. Success was hardly to have been expected from such a speculation ; but. by presenting mathematical questions as versified enigmas, with the answers in a similar form, by giving receipts for cookery and pre- serving, biographies of celebrated women, and other ' entertaining particulars peculiarly adapted for the use and diversion of the fair sex.' the success of the work was secured; so that, though the Gentleman's Diary was brought out in 1741 as a rival publication, the Ladies' Diary continued to circulate independently till 1841, when it was incorporated with the Gentleman's Diary. The projector and first editor of the Ladies' Diary, was John Tipper, a schoolmaster at Coventry. In 1733, Benjamin Franklin published in the city of Philadelphia the first number of his almanac \xnder the fictitious name of Richard Saunders. It was commonly called Poor Rich- ard's Almanac, and was continued by Franklin about twenty-five years. It contained the usual astronomical information, ' besides many pleasant and witty verses, jests, and sayings.' The little spaces that occurred between the remarkable days of the calendar he filled with proverbial sen- tences inculcating industry and frugality. In 1757, he made a selection from these proverbial sentences, which he formed into a connected discourse, and prefixed to the almanac, as the address of a prudent old man to the people attend- ing an auction. This discourse was afterwards pub- lished as a small tract, under the title of The Way to Wealth, and had an immense circulation in America and England. At the sale of the In- graham Library, in Philadelphia, an original Poor Richard's Almanac sold for fifty-two dollars. — Notes and Queries, vol. xii. p. 143. In 1775, the legal monopoly of the Stationers' Company was destroyed by a decision of the Court of Common Pleas, in the case of Thomas Carnan, a bookseller, who had invaded their ex- clusive right. Lord North, in 1779, brought in a bill to renew and legalise the Company's privilege, but, after an able argument by Erskine in favour of the public, the minister's bill was rejected. The defeated monopolists, 13 THE BOOK OF DAYS. however, still kept possession of the trade, hy bribine: their eompetitors. and by their influence overthebook-niarlcet.InlS2S.2y/fi?;v7/5//^?;K(rHac of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- ledge was pviblished. and in the course of a few years the astrological portions disappeared from the other almanacs. Several new ones, contain- ing valuable information, have since been pre- sented to the public. But the measure which led to the improvement and great increase of almanacs, was the entire repeal of the stamp- duties thereon, by 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 37, 13th August 1831. Ilitherto, the stamp-duty upon each Moore's Almanac was lod. lu a letter from Ivobert Heath, of Upnor Castle, date about 1753, the sheet almanac of the Stationers' Company is stated to sell ' 175,000, and they give three guineas for the copy ; Moore's sells 75,000, and they give five guineas for the copy ; the Ladi/ sells above 30,000, and they give ten guineas, the most copy-money of any other. The Gentleman's copy is three guineas, sells 7000. Here are a fine company to write for.' In 1751, he describes White, who com- putes an ephemeris for the Stationers' Company, as living at Grantham, in Lincolnshire. The Stationers' Company present annually to the Archbishop of Canterbury copies of their almanacs, which custom originated as follows : AYhen Tenison was archbishop, a near relation of his, who was master of the Stationers' Com- pany, thought it a compliment to call at Lambeth Palace in the Company's stately barge, on the morning of Lord Mayor's Day, when the arch- bishop sent out a pint of wine for each liveryman, with bread and cheese and hot-spiced ale for the watermen and attendants ; and this grew into a settled custom ; the Stationers' Company acknow- ledging the hospitality by presenting to the archbishop a copy of the several almanacs which they publish. The wine was served in small two- handled wooden bowls, or small cups, which were provided yearly by the Company. But since the abolition of the procession by water on Lord Mayor's Day, this custom has been discontinued. Southey, in the Doctor, relates the following legal anecdote, to exemplify how necessary it is upon any important occasion to scrutinise the accuracy of a statement before it is taken on trust. A fellow was tried at the Old BaUey for highway robbery, and the prosecutor swore positively to him, saying he had seen his face distinctly, for it was a bright moonlight night. The counsel for the prisoner cross-questioned the man so as to make him repeat that assertion, and insist upon it. He then affirmed that this was a most important circumstance, and a most fortu- nate one for the prisoner at the bar : because the night on which the alleged robbery was said to have been committed was one in which there had been no moon: it was then during the dark quarter ! In proof of this he handed an almanac to the bench, and the prisoner was acquitted accordingly. The prosecutor, however, had stated everything tnily ; and it was known afterwards that the almanac with which the coymsel came provided, had been prepared and printed for the occasion. 14 The same writer remembers when a country- man had walked to the nearest large town, thirty miles distant, for the express purpose of seeing an almanac, the first that had been heard of in those parts. His inquiring neighbours crowded round the man on his return. ' Well, well,' said he, ' I know not; it maffles and talks. But all I could make out is, that Collop Monday falls on a Tuesday next year.' THE RIDDLE OF THE YEAR. Tiicre is a father with twice six sons ; these sons have thirty daughters a piece, party-coloured, having one cheek white and the other black, who never see each other's face, nor live above twenty- four hours. IIMPROVEMENT OF SMALL PORTIONS OF TIME. Among those who have contributed to the advancement of learning, many have risen to eminence in opposition to all the obstacles which external circumstances could place in their way, amidst the tumults of business, the distresses of poverty, or the dissipation of a wandering and unsettled state. A great part of the life of Erasmus was one continued peregrination : ill supplied with the gifts of fortune, and led from city to city, and from kingdom to kingdom, by the hopes of patrons and preferment — hopes which always flattered and always deceived him — he yet found means, by unshaken constancy and a vigilant improvement of those hours which, in the midst of the most restless activity, will remain unengaged, to write more than another in the same condition could have hoped to read. Compelled by want to attendance and solicitation, and so much versed in common life that he has transmitted to us the most perfect delineation of the manners of his age, he joined to his know- ledge of the world such apj)lication to books, that he will stand for ever in the first rank of literary heroes. Now, this proficiency he suffi- ciently discovers by informing us that the Praise of Folly, one of "his most celebrated perform- ances, was composed by him on the road to Italy, lest the hours which he was obliged to spend on horseback should be tattled away, with- out regard to literature. — Johnson. The Chancellor D'Aguesseau, finding that his wife always kept him waiting a quarter of an hour after the dinner-bell had rung, resolved to devote the time to writing a book on jurispru- dence, and, putting the project in execution, in course of time produced a work in four quarto volumes. Many persons thoughtlessly waste their own time simultaneously with that of others. Lord Sandwich, when he presided at the Board of Admiralty, paid no attention to any memorial that extended beyond a single page. ' If any man,' he said, ' will draw up his case, and will put his name to the bottom of the first page, I will give him an immediate reply; where he compels me to turn over the page, he must wait my pleasure.' came old January, WTapped well In many weeds to keep the cold away ; Yet did he quake and Cjuiver like to ciuell, And blowe his nayles to warm them if he may ; For they were nimibed with holding aU the daj' An hatchet keene, with which he f eUed wood, And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray ; Upon an huge great Earth-pot Steane he stood, From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romans flood. Spenser. fflUARY (DESCRIPTIVE.) is the open gate of the year, shut until the short- est clay passed, but now open to let in the lengthen- ing daylight, which will soon fall upon dim patches of pale green, that shew where spring is still, sleeping. Sometimes between the hoary pillars — when the winter is mild — a few wan snowdrops will peep out and catch the faint sunlight which streams in coldly through, tlie opening gateway, like timid messengers sent to see if spring has yet stirred from her long sleep. But it is yet too early for the hardy crocus to throw its banded gold along the pathway ; and as for the ' rathe primrose,' it sits huddled up in its little cloak of green, or is seen peeping through its half-closed yellow eye, as if watching the snow- flakes as they fall. Only the red-breasted robin — his heart filled with hope — sings his cheerful song on the naked hawthorn spray, through which the tiny buds are striving to break forth, like a 15 THE BOOK OF DAYS. lierald proclaiming glad tidings, and making kno\vn. tar and wide, that erelong ' the winter ■will be over and gone,' and the moonlight-coloured May-blossoms once again ap]iear. All aronnd, as yet. the landscape is barren and dreary. In the eiirly morning, the withered sedge by the Avater-coursos is silvered over with hoary rime ; and if you handle the frosted ilag-rushes, they seem to "cut like swords. Huddled up like balls of feathers, the fieldfares sit in the leafless hedijes. as if they had no heart to breakfast off the few hard, black, withered berries which still dangle in the wintry wind. Amid the cold frozen turnips, the huugiy sheep look up and bleat pitifully ; and if the cry of an early lamb ftills on your ear, it makes the heart sorrowful only to listen to it. You pass the village churchyard, and almost shiver to think that the very dead who lie there must be pierced by the cold, for there is not even a crimson hip or haw to give a look of warmth to the stark hedges, through which the bleak wind whistles. Around the frozen pond the cattle assemble, lowing every now and then, as if impatient, and looking backward for the coming of the herdsman to break the ice. Even the nose of cherry-cheeked Patty looks blue, as she issues from the snow-covered cowshed with the smoking milk-pail on her head. There is no sound of the voices of village children in the winding lanes — nothing but the creaking of the old carrier's cart along the frost-bound road, and you pity the old wife who sits peeping out between the opening of the tilt, on her way to the neighbouring market-town. The very dog walks under the cart in silence, as if to avail himself of the little shelter it affords, instead of frisking and barking beside his master, as he does when ' the leaves are green and long.' There is a dull, leaden look about the sky, and you have no wish to climb the hill-top on which those gray clouds hang gloomily. You feel sorry for the poor donkey that stands hanging his head under the guide- post, and wish there were flies about to make him whisk his ears, and not leave him altogether motionless. The ' Jolly Farmer ' swings on his creaking sign before the road-side alehouse, like the bones of a murderer in his gibbet-irons ; and instead of entering the house, you hurry past the closed door, resolved to warm yourself by walking quicker, for you think a glass of ale must be but cold drink on such a morning. The old ostler seems bent double through cold, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, and his pitchfork thrust into the smoking manure-heap that litters the stable-yard. A walk in the country on a fine frosty morning in Januarj' gives the blood a healthy circulation, and sets a man wondering why so many sit ' croodleing ' over the fire at such a season. The trees, covered with hoar-frost, are beautiful to look upon, and the grass bending beneath its weight seems laden with crystal ; while in the distance the hedges seem sheeted with May blos- soms, so thickly, that you might fancy there was not room enough for a green leaf to peep out between the bloom. Sometimes a freezing shower comes down, and that is not quite so pleasant to be out in, for in a few moments everything around is covered with ice — the boughs seem as if cased 16 in glass, the plumage of birds is stiffened by it, and they have to give their wings a brisk shaking before they are able to fly ; as for a bunch of red holly-berries, could they but retain their icy covering, they would make the prettiest ornaments that could be placed on a mantel-piece. This is the time of year to see the beautiful ramification of the trees, for the branches are no longer hidden by leaves, and all the interlacings and crossings of exquisite network are visible — those pencilling of the sprays which too few of our artists study. Looking nearer at the hedges, we already see the tiny buds forming, mere specks on the stem, that do but little more than raise the bark ; yet by the aid of a glass we can uncoil the future leaves which summer weaves in her loom into broad green curtains. The snails are asleep ; they have glued up the doorways of their moveable habita- tions ; and j^ou may see a dozen of their houses fastened together if you probe among the dead leaves under the hedges with your walking-stick ; while the worms have delved deep down into the earth, beyond the reach of the frost, and thither the mole has followed them, for he has not much choice of food in severe frosty weather. The woodman looks cold, though he wears his thick hedging gloves, for at this season he clears the thick un- derwood, and weaves into hurdles the smooth hazel-wands, or any long limber twigs that form the low thicket beneath the trees. He knows where the primroses are peeping out, and can tell of little bowery and sheltered hollows, where the wood-violets will erelong appear. The ditcher looks as thoughtful as a man digging his own grave, and takes no heed of the pretty robin that is piping its winter song on the withered gorse bushes with which he has just stopped up a gap in the hedge. Poor fellow, it is hard work for him, for the ground rings like iron when he strikes it with his spade, yet you would rather be the ditcher than the old man you passed a while ago, sitting on a pad of straw aud breaking stones by the wayside, looking as if his legs were frozen. That was the golden-crested wren which darted across the road, and though the very smallest of our British birds, it never leaves us, no matter how severe the winter may be, but may be seen among the fir-trees, or pecking about where the holly and ivy are still green. If there is a spring- head or water-course unfrozen, there you are pretty sure to meet with the wag-tail — the smallest of all our walking birds, for he marches along like a soldier, instead of jumping, as if tied up in a sack, as most of our birds do when on the ground. Now the blue titmouse may be seen hanging by his claws, with his back downward, hunting for insects in some decaying bough, or peeping about the thatched eaves of the cottages and outhouses, where it will pull oiit the straw to stir up the in- sects that lie snug within the thatch. In the hollows of trees, caverns, old buildings, and dark out-of-the-way places, the bats hibernate, holding on by their claws, while asleep, head downwards, one over another, dozens together, there to await the coming of spring, along with the insects which will then come out of their hiding-places. But unsightly as the bat appears to some eyes, there is no cleaner animal living, in spite of all our poets have written against it ; for it makes JANUAEY— DESCRIPTIVE. a brush of its droll-looking little head, which it pokes under its umbrella-like Avings, not leaving a cranny unswept, and parts its hair as carefully as a ringletted beauty. As for the insects it feeds upon, tiicy are now in a state of torpor ; most of the butterflies and moths are dead ; those summer beauties that used to sit like folded pea-blossoms swinging on the flowers, have secured their eggs from the cold, to be hatched when the primrose- coloured sky of spring throws its warm light over the landscape. None of our clever warehouse packers can do their work so neatly as these insects ; for, after laying their eggs in beautiful and regular order, they fill up the interstices with a gum "that hardens like glue, and protects them in the severest weather. Those who wish for a good crop of fruit now hunt among the naked branches for these eggs, which are easily found through the dead leaves, to which they adhere ; when these are destroyed, there is no fear of young grubs gnawing and piercing the bloom, nor can there be a better time to hunt for these destroyers of melting plums and juicy apples than in January. No doubt, the soft-billed birds that remain with us all the year round devour myriads of these eggs, and they serve to eke out the scanty subsistence these hardy choristers find strewn so sparingly in severe winters. How these birds manage to live through the killing frosts has long been a puzzle to our ablest natu- ralists, and after all their research. He alone knoweth without whose permission not a sparrow falls to the ground. There is no better time than during a walk in January to get a good view of the mosses that grow on and around the trees, for at this season they stand boldly out in all their beautiful col- ourings, falling on the eye in masses of rich red, silver-gray, umbered brown, and gaudy orange ; while the yellow moss is almost as dazzling as sunshine, and the green the most beautiful that gladdens the earth. In some places, we see it fitted together like exquisite mosaic work, in others it hangs down like graceful fringe, while the green looks like fairy trees, springing from a cushion of yielding satin. The screw moss is very curiously formed ; it grows plentifidly on old walls, and looks like dark-green flossy velvet. Now, if closely examined, a number of slender stems will be found springing from this soft bed, crowned with what botanists call the fruit. On this is a cap, just like that found on the unblown and well-known eschscholtzia ; when this extin- guisher-shaped cap is thrown off (it may be lifted ofT) a beautiful tuft of twisted hairs will be found beneath, compressed at the neck, and forming just such a brush as one can imagine the fairies use to sweep out the pollen from the flowers. Place this beautiful moss in water, and this brush will uncoil itself, if left above the sur- face, and release the seed within. Another of the scale mosses is equally curious, and if brought into a warm room, with a drop of water applied to the seed-vessel, it will burst open and throw out a little j)ufF of dust ; and this dust, when exa- mined by a powerful glass, will be found to con- sist of links of little chains, not unlike the spring of a watch. But the most beautiful of all ia the ' siller ' cup moss, the silvery cup of which 2 is shaped like a nest, while the sporules inside look like eggs, such as a bird no larger than a gnat might build to breed in. This moss is commonly found on decayed wood. Sometimes, while hunting for curious mosses, at the stems of aged trees, we have aroused the little dormouse from his wintry sleep, as he lay coiled up, like a ball, in his snug burrow, where his store of pro- vision was hoarded ; for, unUke the fabled ant, he does lay in a stock for this dark season, which the ant does not. Snow in the streets is very different from snow in the country, for there it no sooner falls than it begins to make more dirt, and is at once trampled into mud by a thousand passing feet on the pavement, while in the roadway the horses and vehicles work it into ' slush,' which only a brisk shower of rain can clear away. In the country snow is really white ; there is none of that gray dirty look about it, which is seen in localities that neighbour upon town, but it lies on the fields, as Milton says, like ' A wintry veil of maiden white. ' The embankments look like stately terraces formed of the purest marble, and the hills in the distance are scarcely distinguishable from the fleecy clouds that crown their summits ; while the wild open moors and hedgeless commons look like a sea of foam, whose waves were suddenly frozen into ridgy rest, the buried bushes only shewing like loftier crests. Vehicles pass along the scarcely distinguishable road with a strange, dull, muffled sound, like objects moving before the eye in a dream, so much do we miss the gritty and grind- ing noise which the wheels make in the dust of summer. What a different aspect the landscape presents when viewed from some neighbouring eminence ! But for a few prominent landmarks, we shoidd hardly know it was the same scene that we looked upon in summer ; where the hedges then stretched like green walls across the country, we see but whitened barriers ; for the only dark object that now catches the eye is the river that goes rolling between its powdered banks. The appearance of the village, too, is altered; the pi'cturesque thatched roofs of the cottages have vanished, and but for the smoke that curls above the scene, you might fancy that all the inhabitants had fled, for neither flocks nor herds are seen or heard bleating and lowing from the fields, and all out-of-door employment has ceased. You hear the ringing of the black- smith's hammer, and as you return when the day darkens, will see the light of his forge fall with a crimson glare across the snow-covcrcd road. Even the striking of the church clock falls upon the ear with a deadened sound, and the report of the sportsman's gun dies away as soon as heard, leaving no prolonged echo behind. While watching the snow fall, you can almost fancy that the flakes arc white blossoms shaken from a land of flowers that lies somewhere above the sky ; those that touch the river are gone in an instant, whUe some, as they fall slantways, unite together before they touch the earth. Science has seized upon and pictured the fan- tastic shapes the falling snow-flakes assume, and they are ' beautiful exceedingly.' Not less THE BOOK OP DAYS. so is frost-worlc, wlilcli may be seen witlioufc stirring abroad on the -wiudow-^iancs ; M'hat a mingling of fern leaves and foliage of every shape, rare iietworlc and ellln embroidery, does this silent worker place before the eye, snch as no pattern-drawer ever yet seized upon, although ' A tiling of beauty is a joy for ever.' — Keats. The farmer must attend to his cattle during this ' dead season.' for they require feeding early and late ; and it is his business to put all the meat he can on their backs, so that they may weigh heavj', and realise a good price in the market. For this purpose, he must be active in cutting swedes and mangel-wurzel. Without this care, the farmer cannot keep pace with his neighbours. He gets rid of his saleable stock as soon as he can ; he says, he ' likes to see fresh faces in his fields.' It is a pleasant sight to see the well-fed, clean-looking cattle in the straw- yard, or sniffing about the great barn-doors, where the thresher is at work, waiting for tlie straw he will throw out. It is a marvel that the poultry escape from those great heavy hoofs ; as for a game-cock, he will make a dash at the head of an ox, as if he cared not a straw for his horns ; and as for sucking pigs, they are farrowed to be killed. The teams are also now busy taking the farm produce to market, for this is the season when corn, hay, and straw realise a good price ; and a wagon piled high with clean white turnips, or laden with greens or carrots, has a pleasant look moving through the wintry landscape, as it con- jures up before the hungry pedestrian visions of boiled beef and mutton, which a walk in frosty weather gives a hearty man a good appetite to enjoy. Manure can also bo carted better to the fields during a frost than at any other time, for the ground is hard, and the wheels make but little impression on rough fallow lands. Let a thaw come, and few persons, unless they have lived in the country, can know the state the roads are in that lead to some of our out-of-the- way villages in the claj'ey districts. A foot-pas- senger, to get on at all, must scramble through some gap in the hedge, and make his way by trespassing on the fields. In the lane, the horses are knee-deep in mire every step they take ; and as for the wain, it is nearly buried up to the axles in places where the water has lodged. In vain does the wagoner keep whipping or patting his strong well-fed horses, or clapping his broad shovilder to the miry wheels : all is of no avail ; he must either go home for more horses, or bring half-a-dozen men from the farm to dig out his wagon. It's of no use grumbling, for perhaps his master is one of the surveyors of the highways. The gorse, furze, whin, or 'fuzz' — country people sometimes calling it by the latter name — ■ is often in flower all the year round, though the great golden-bellied baskets it hangs out in sum- mer are now nearly closed, and of a pale yellowish green. Although, its spikes are as sharp as spears, and there is no cutting out a golden branch with- out wearing thick gloves, still it is one of the most beautiful of our wayside shrubs, and we hardly wonder at Linna;us falling on his knees in admi- ration the first time he saw it. Many a time have IS we cut a branch in January, put it in water, and placed it in a warm room, when in two or three clays all its golden lamps have lighted up, and where it stood it seemed to ' malce sunshine in the shady place.' Where gorse grows abundantl}^, and bees have ready access to the bloom, there the finest-coloured and sweetest honey is produced. In a very mild season, we have seen, under sheltered hedges that face the south, the celandine in flower in January. Even when not in bloom, its large bright green leaves give a spring look to the barren embank- ments ; but when out, its clear yellow star-shaped flowers catch the eye sooner than the primrose, through their deej) golden hue. Country children call it the hedge buttercux'), and their little hearts leap with delight when they see it springing up from among the dead leaves of winter. The common red or dead nettle may also occasionally be found in flower. Let those who would throw it aside as an unsightly weed, examine the bloom through a glass, and they will be amazed at its extreme loveliness ; such ruby tints as it shews, imbedded in the softest bloom, never graced the rounded arm of beauty. The blue periwinkle is another beautiful flower that diadems the brow of January when the season is warm. It must be looked for in sheltered situations, for it is not at all a common wild-flower : once seen, it can never be mistaken, for the twisted bud before opening resembles the blue convolvulus. Nor must the common chickweed be overlooked, with its chaste white star-shaj)ed flowers, which shew as early as the snowdrops. The' large broad-leaved mouse-ear chickweed flowers later, and will be sought for in vain in January, though it sheds its seed and flowers frequently six times during the summer. Many other flowers we might name, though they are more likely to be found in bloom next month. Many rare birds visit us occasionally in winter, which never make their appearance on our island at any other season. Some are only seen once now and then in the course of several years, and how they find their way hither at all, so far from their natural haunts, is somewhat of a mystery. Many birds come late in the autumn, and take their departure early in spring. Others remain with tis all the year round, as the thrush and blackbird, which often commence singing in January. Wrens, larks, and many other small birds never leave our country. Flocks of wild- geese and other water-fowl, also visit our reedy marshes and sheltered lakes in winter ; far up the sky their wild cries may be heard in the silence of midnight, as they arrive. Hooks now return from the neighbouring woods, where they have mostly wintered, to their nest-trees ; while the smaller birds, which drew near to our habitation during the depth of winter, begin to disappear. Those that require insect food, go and forage among the grass and bushes ; others retreat to the sides of stagnant pools, where, during the brief intervals of sunshine, gnats are now found. Others hunt in old walls, or among decayed trees, where insects are hidden in- a dormant state, or are snugly ensconced in their warm cocoons, awaiting the first warm touch of spring, when, in the words of Solomon, ' the flowers appear on the JANUAEY— niSTOEICAL. earth. . . . . in our land.' and tke voice of the turtle is heard HISTORY OF JANUARY. It is very appropriate that this should be the first moutk of the year, as far as the northern hemisphere is coucei'ned ; since, its beginning being near the winter solstice, the year is thus made to present a complete series of the seasonal changes and operations, including equally the first movements of spring, and the death of all annual vegetation in the frozen ai'ms of winter. Yet the earliest calendars, as the Jewish, the Egyptian, and Greek, did not place the com- mencement of the year at this point. It was not done till the formation of the Roman calendar, usually attributed to the second king, Numa Pompilius, whose reign is set down as terminating anno 672 B.C. Numa, it is said, having decreed that the year should commence now, added two new months to the ten into which the year had previously been divided, calling the first Janu- arius, in honour of Janus, the deity supposed to preside over doors (Lat. janua, a door), who might very naturally be presumed also to have something to do with the opening of the year. Although, however, there was a general popu- lar regard to the 1st of January as the beginning of the year, the ancient Jewish year, which opened with the 25th of March, continued long to have a legal position in Christian countries. In England, it was not till 1752 that the 1st of January became the initial day of the legal, as it had long been of the popular year. Before that time, it was customary to set down dates between the 1st of January and the 24th of March inclu- sive, thus : January 30, 1648-9 : meaning, tliat popularly the year was 1649, but legally 1648. In Scotland, this desirable change was made by a decree of James VI. in privy council, in the year 1600. It was eflected in France in 1564 ; in Holland, Protestant Germany, and Eussia, in 1700 ; and in Sweden in 1753. According to Verstegan, in his curious book The Restltiition of Decayed Intelligence (4to, 1628), our Saxon ancestors originally called this month Wolf-monat — that is. Wolf-month — 'because people were wont always in that month to be more in danger to be devoured of wolves than in any season else of the year, for that, through the extremity of cold and snow, those ravenous crea- tures could not fijid beasts sufficient to feed upon.' Subsequently, the month was named by the same people Aefter-Yule — that is, After Christmas. It is rather odd that we should have abandoned the Saxon names of the months, while retaining those of the days of the week. CHARACTERISTICS OF JANUARY. The deity Janus was represented by the Eomans as a man with two faces, one looking backwards, the other forwards, implying that he stood between the old and the new year, with a regard to both. To this circumstance the English poet Cotton alludes in the following lines : 'Hark, the cock crows, and you liright star Tells us, the day himself 's not far ; And see where, breaking from thfj night, He gilds the western hills with light. With him old Janus doth ajipcar, Peeping into the future year, With such a look as seems to say, The prospect is not good that way. Thus do we rise ill sights to see. And 'gainst ourselves to prophesy ; When the prophetic fear of things A more tormenting mischief brings, More full of soul-tormenting gall Than direst mischiefs can befall. But stay ! but stay ! Methinks my sight. Better informed by clearer light. Discerns sereneness in that Ijrow, That all contracted seemed but now. His reversed face may shew distaste, And frown ujion the ills are past ; But that which this way looks is clear, And smdes upon the new-born year.' In the quaint drawings which illuminate the Catholic missals in the middle ages, January is represented by ' the figui-e of a man clad in white, as the type of the snow usually on the ground at that season, and blowing on his fingers as descriptive of the cold ; under his left arm he holds a bdlet of wood, and near him stands the figure of the sign Aquarius, into which watery emblem in the zodiac the sun enters on the 19th of this month.' — Brady. January is notedly, in our northern hemisphere, the coldest month in the year. The country people in England state the fact in their usual strong way : ' Janiveer — Freeze the j)ot upon the fier.' They even insist that the cold rather increases than decreases during the course of the month, notwithstanding the return of the sun from the Tropic of Capricorn, remarking : ' As the day lengthens. The cold strengthens : ' or, as it is given in Germany, where the same idea prevails : ' Wenn die Tage beginnen zu langen, Dann komm erst dor Winter gegangen ' — the fact being, we suppose, that it only does so in some instances, while those of an opposite cha- racter pass unnoticed. In the middle of the month, the sun at London is only 8h. 20m., at Edinburgh, 7h. 34m., above the horizon. There is a liability to severe and lasting frosts, and to heavy falls of snow. Veget- ation lies dead, and it is usually ' sore times ' for the animal creation ; the farmer has his bestial, including the sheep, if he keeps any, much upon his hands for artificial supplies. The bu'ds of the field and wood, reduced to great extremities, come nearer to the residences ot men, in the hope of picking up a little food. The robin is especi- ally remarkable for this forced familiarity. In unusually severe seasons, many birds perish of cold and hunger, and consequently, when the spring comes on, there is a marked dimi- 19 THE BOOK OF DAYS. nutiou of that biu-st of sylvau song wliick usually makes the season so cheerful. "When frost occurs witliout a snow-fall — what is called in the north a black frost — the ground, wholly without protection, becomes hard for several inches deep. In Canada, it is sometimes frozen three feet down, so that any sort of building not founded considerably deeper, is sure to be dislodged at the next thaw. Even a luaeadaniised road will be broken up and wholly ruined from this cause. In our country, and on the continent of Europe, a suowless frost gives the means of several amusements, which the riu'al people are enabled with good conscience to indulge in, as being thrown of!" from all more serious employments by the state of the ground. ' Xow ill the Xothcrlands, and Avliore the Rhine Branched out iu many a long caual, extends, From every province swarming, void of care, Batavia rushes forth ; and as they sweep. On souncUng skates, a thousand different ways In circUug poise, swift as tlie winds along. The then gay land is maddened all to joy. Xor less the northern com'ts, wide o'er the snow, Pom- a new pomji. Eager, on rapid sleds. Their ^ngorous youth in bold contention wheel The long-resounding coiuse. Meantime to i-aise The manly strife, with highly blooming charms Flushed by the season, Scaudina\'ia's dames. Or Eussia's buxom daughters, glow arovmd.' Tho)iison, In Holland, the peasantry, male and female, take advantage of the state of the waters to come to market on skates, often bearing most part of a hundredweight on their heads ; yet proceeding at the rate of ten miles an hour for two or three hours at a stretch. In England, skating is on such occasions a favourite amusement ; nor do the boys fail to improve the time by forming slides on lake, ou pond, yea, even ou the public highways, notwith- standing the frowns of old gentlemen and the threatenings of policemen. All of these amuse- ments prevail during dry frost in Scotland, with one more, as yet little known in the south. It bears the name of CuvUng, and very much re- sembles bowls in its general arrangements, only with the specialty of Hat stones to slide along the ice, instead of bowls to roll along the grass. Two parties are ranged iu contention against each other, each man provided with a pair of handled stones aud a broom, and having crampets on his feet to enable him to take a firm hold of the glassy surface. They play against each other, to have as many stones as possible lying near a fixed point, or tee, at the end of the course. When a player happens to impel his stone weakly, his associates sweep before it to favour its advance. A ship, or leader, stands at the tee, broom in hand, to guide the players of his party as to what they should attempt; whe- ther to try to get through a certain open channel amongst the cluster of stones guarding the tee, or perhaps to come smashing among them, in the hoj)e of producing rearrangements more favourable to his side. Incessant vociferation, frequent changes of fortune, the excitation of a healthy physical exercise, and the general feeling of socialty evoked, all contribute to render curl- CL'KLIXG (IROJI n.VnVEY's WELL-ICNOWX nCTURE). ing one of the most delightful of amusements. It is further remarkable that, in a small commu- nity, the curling rink is usually surrounded by persons of all classes — the laird, the minister, and the provost, being all hail-fellow-well-met on this occasion with the tailors, shoemakers, and •weavers, who at other times never meet them without a reverent vailing of the beaver. Very 20 often a plain dinner of boiled beef with (jreens concludes the merry-meeting. There is a Cale- donian Curling Clnh in Scotland, embracing the highest names in the land, and having scores of provincial societies affiliated to it. They possess an artificial pond in Strathallaii, near the line of the Scottish Central Eailway, and thither sometimes converge for one day s conten- SNOW CRYSTALS. tiou represeutatives from clubs scattered over fully a hundred and fifty miles of country. When the low temperature of January is attended -witli a lieavy snow-fall, as it often is, the ground receives a certain degree of protec- tion, and is so far benefited for tillage in spring. But a load of snow is also productive of many serious inconveniences and dangers, and to none more than to the farmer, especially if he be at all concerned in store-farmincj . In Scotland, once every few j'ears, there is a snow-fall of consider- able depth, threatening entire destruction to sheep- stock. On one such occasion, in 1795, the snow was drifted in some hollows of the hills to the depth of a hundred feet. In 1772, there was a similar fall. At such times, the shepherd is ex- posed to frightful hardships and dangers, in try- ing to rescue some part of his charge. James Hogg tells us that, in the first-mentioned of these storms, seventeen shepherds perished in the southern district of Scotland, besides about thirty who, carried home insensible, were with difficulty recovered. At the same time, many farmers lost hundi'cds of their sheep. SXOW CRYSTALS. For the uninstructed mind, the fall of snow is a very common-place affair. To the thoughtless schoolboy, making up a handful of it irto a missile, wherewith to surprise his friend passing on the other side of the way ; to the labouring rnan plodding his way through it with pain and difficulty ; to the agriculturist, who hails it as a comfortable wrappage for the ground during a portion of the dead season of the year, it is but a white cold substance, and nothing more. Even the eye of weather-wisdom could but distinguish that snow sometimes fell in broad fiakes, and sometimes was of a powdery consistence ; pecu- liarities from which certain inferences were drawn as to the severity and probable length of the storm. In the view of modern science, under favour of the microscope, snow is one of the most beautiful things in the museum of nature ; each particle, when duly magnified, shewing a surprising regularity of figure, but various ac- cording to the degree of frost by which the snow has been produced. In the Book of Job, ' the treasures of the snow ' are spoken of; and after one has seen the particles in this way, he is fully disposed to allow the justice of the expression. The indefatigable Arctic voyager, Scoresby, was the first to observe the forms of snow particles, and for a time it was supposed that they assumed these remarkable figures in the polar regions alone. It was, however, ascertained by ]\Ir VARIOLTS FOUMS OF SNOW CRVSTAUS. 21 James Glaislier, secretary of the Britisli Meteoro- logical Societ)-, that, in the cold weather which marked the beginuiuo; of 1855, the same and even more complicated figures were prcseutcd in England. In consistcuce, a snow particle is laminar, or flaky, and it is when wo look at it in its breadth that the figure appears. With certain exceptions, which probably will be in time explained away, the figure is shlhii — a star of six arms or points, forming of course angles of 60 degrees. And sometimes the figure is composed merely of six sjjiculw meeting at a point in this regular way. It more frequently happens, however, that the spicular arms of the figure are feathered with other and siuallcr spicula?, all meeting their respec- tive stems at an angle of 60 degrees, or loaded with hexagonal prisms, all of which have of course the same angles. It is in obedience to a law govern- ing the crystallisation of water, that this angle of 60 degrees everj'where prevails in the figures of snow particles, with the slight and probably only apparent exceptions which have been alluded to. But while there is thus a unity in the presiding law, the results are of infinite variety, probably no two particles being ever precisely alike. It is to be observed that there is a tendency to one sft/Ie of figure at any particular time of a snow- fall, in obedience to the degree of the temperature or some other condition of the atmosphere ; yet within the range of this style, or general character, the minute differences may be described as end- less. A very complicated form will even go through a series of minor changes as it melts on the object-glass of the observer ; passing from the more complicated to the less, till it ends, perhaps, as a simple star of six points, just before becoming water. The engraving on tiie preceding page represents a selection of figures from ninety-six given by Dr Scoresby in his work on the Arctic Eegions.* It includes, as will be observed, certain triangular and other figures of apparently exceptional cha- racter. In a brochure issued by Mr Glaisher, and quoted below,t a hundred and fifty-one figures are presented, many of them paragons of geo- metrical beauty, and all calculated further to illustrate this interesting subject. | PROVERBS REGARDING JANUARY. If the grass grows in Janiveer, It grows the worse for 't all the year. A January spring Is worth naething. Under water dearth, Under snow bread. IMarch iu Janiveer, January iu March, I fear. If January calends be summerly gay, 'TwiU be winterly weather till the calends of May. The blackest month in all the year Is the month of Janiveer. * Published in 1820, 2 vols., 8vo. t Report of Council of Brit. Meteor. Society, May 1855. X It lias been found by Mr J. Spencer, and confirmed by observations of Mr Glaisher, that a weak solution of camphor produces, when rapidly dried, crystals resembling those of snow, of the more elementary forms. -4" SLF.CGE-TRAVELLIXG ON SNOW IN THE NORTH OF EUKOrU. 22 ELD in the !Roman Catliolic Cliurcli as the festival of Circum- cisio Domini ; observed as a feast in the Church of England ou the same account. In the Konian Church, the following saints are honoured on this day : St Fulgen- tius, bishop and confessor ; St Odilo or Olou, sixth abbot of Climi ; St Alma- chus, martyr ; St Eugendus, abbot ; St Faine or Fanchea, virgin, of Ireland; St Mochua or Moncain, alias Claunus, abbot in Ireland ; and St Mochua, alias Cronan, of Balla, abbot in Ireland. Born. — Soame Jenyiis, 1704, London; Baron Franz Von Trenck, 1710 ; Edmund Burke, 1730, Dublin; G. A. Burger, 1748, Wahnersicemde ; ]\Iiss Maria Edgewortb, 1767; Edward Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, 1779; Francis Earl of Ellesmere, 1800. Died. — Louis XII. of France, 1515; W. Wycherley, 1716; C. A. Helvetius, 1772, Paris; Silvio Pellico, 1854; John Britton, antiquary and topographer, 1857. EDMUND BURKE. In the oratorical era of the House of Commons — the eighteenth century — who greater in that arena than Edmund Burke ? A wonderful basis of knowledge was crowned in his case by the x^lay of the most brilliant imagination. It is an ex- ample of ' inconsistency in expectations,' to look for life-long solidity of opinion in such a man. His early friend, Sinqle-specck Ilamilfon, hit off his character as a politician in a single sentence : ' Whatever opinion Burke, from any motive, sup- ports, so ductile is his imagination, that he soon conceives it to be right.' Goldsmith's epitaph upon him, in the poem, lictaliation, is not less true: ' Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind. And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote ; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining. And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining ; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit ; For a patriot too cool ; for a drudge disobedient. And too fond of the r'lcjht to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or m place, su-, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks -n^th a razor.' Turning away from the inconstancy of Mr Burke as a politician, let us contemplate him as a private friend in a day's journey, as delineated by Mr Hardy in his Memoirs of Lord Charlemont. ' 'One of the most satisfactory days, perhaps, that I ever passed in my life was going with him, Ute-a-teie, from London to Beaconsficld. He stopped at Uxbridge whilst the horses were feeding, and happening to meet some gentlemen, of I know not what militia, who appeared to be perfect strangers to him, he entered into discourse with them at the gateway of tlie inn. His con- versation at that moment completely exemplified what Johnson said of him : " That you could not meet Burke for half an hour under a shecl, without saying he was an extraordinary man." He was on that day altogether uncommonly m- structive and agreeable. Every object of the slightest notoriety, as we passed along, whether of natural or local history, furnished him with abundant materials for conversation. The house at Uxbridge, where the Treaty was held during Charles the First's time ; the beautiful and undu- lating grounds of Bulstrode, formerly the residence G. A. BUKGEU. THE BOOK OF DAYS. G. k. SUKG^ of Clmncollor JoftVies ; and AVallev's tomb, m Boaconstlekl Churcliyavd, wliicli, before we ^-cnt homo, we visited, and whose character— as a fjentleman. a poet, and an orator— he shortly delineated, but with exquisite felicity of gemus, altoi^ether uave an uncommon interest to his eloquence ; and. althouo;h one-and-twenty years have now passed since that day,! entcrtam the most vivid and pleasing recollection of it.' G. A. 15LiRGE ;. To the poet Biirger belongs the honour of having, by two ballads, impressed the poetical mind of England, and conduced in some measure to its being turned into now channels. A trans- lation of these ballads, which appeared in 17UG, was the first publication of Scott. The ride of the spectre bridegroom with his mistress, in Scott's version of Lcnore, is a splendid piece of painting : ' "ition^' 1 \i, pI(,^ ulnl, she l)U-=k-, '-ht boiin out: lliuiiuta tiic baiij bcliiin_l, And round her darling William's wai-.;t Her lily arms she twined. And hurry ! hurry ! off they rode, As fast as fast might be ; S])urued from the covu'ser's thundering heels, The flashing pebbles flee. And on the right, and on the left, Ere they could snatch a \'iew, Fast, fast, each mountain, mead and plain, And cot and castle, flew. "Sit fast — dost fear ? The moon shines clear- Fleet goes my barb — keep hold ! Fearst thou ? " "0 no," she faintly said ; ' ' But why so stern and cold ? ^^^lat yonder rings ? what yonder sings ? Why shrieks the owlet gray?" "'Tis death bells' clang, 'tis fuuei'al song. The body to the clay. With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. Ye may inter the dead : To-night I ride, -with my young bride, To deck our l:)ridal-bed. Come with thy choir, thou cofSnecl guest, To sweU our nuptial song ! Come, priest, to bless onr marriage feast, Come all, come all along ! " 24 (. ^ isod cling and song ; down sank the bier ; 1 he shi juded corpse arose : And hurry ! hnrry ! all the train The thundering steed pursues. And forward ! forward ! on they go ; High snorts the straining steed ; Thick pants the riders' labom-ing breath. As headlong on they speed. ' ' William, why this savage haste ? And where thy bridal-bed ? " '"Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill. And narrow, trustless maid." " No room for me ? " " Enough for both ; Speed, speed, my I^arb, thy course ! " O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge. He drove the furious horse. Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, Splash ! sjilash ! along the sea ; The scourge is white, the spur is bright, The flashing pebbles llee. Fled past on right and left how fast. Each forest, grove, and bower ! On right and left fled past how fast, Each city, town, and tower ! * ' Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, Dost fear to ride with me ? Hiu-rah ! hurrah ! the dead can ride ! " " William, let them be ! EAEL OF ELLESMERE. JANUAEY 1. WILLIAM WYCriERLEV. See there ! see there ! "What yonrler swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain ?" " Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel ; A murderer in his chain. Hollo ! thou felon, fallow here : To bridal-bed we ride ; And thou shalt prance a fetter dance Before me and my bride." And hurry ! hurry ! clash, clash, clash ! The wasted form descends ; And fleet as wind through hazel-bush The wild career attends. Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, Splash ! sjjlash ! along the sea ; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood. The flashing pebbles flee. How fled what moonshine faintly shewed ! How fled what darkness hid ! How fled the earth beneath their feet, The heaven above their head ! "Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, And well the dead can ride ; Does faithful Helen fear for them?" ' ' leave in peace the dead ! " "Barb ! barb ! methiuks I hear the cock, The sand will soon be run : Barb ! barb ! I smell the morning air ; The race is well-nigh done." Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, Splash ! splash ! along the sea ; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, The flashing pebbles flee. " HuiTah ! hurrah ! well ride the dead ; The bride, the bride is come : And soon we reach the bridal-bed. For, Helen, here 's my home. " ' _ In Ills latter days, as a professor in tlie univer- sity of Gottiugen, Biirger was inefficient, yet still much respected as tlie writer of the immortal Lenore. 'When Tieck became acquainted with him, he had been lately separated from his third wife. IJe was lean, pale, shrunken — misery was written in his features. His voice had lost its force ; he could only make himself intelligible with difBculty ; and yet he was obliged to speak. Now and then he would ride out, and there was something spectral about the pale man as he trotted through the streets of Gottingen on his lean white horse. One was reminded of the Ride of Death, which he had so forcibly described. Sometimes a ray of sunshine would fall on his gloomy soul, when any one succeeded in drawing him against his will into his old circle of good friends, whom he now anxiously avoided — shun- ning, indeed, all intercourse with mankind .... In unconstrained moments, Biirger could appear unconstrained, sympathetic, and even cheerfid. He had something amiable and child-like in his nature.' — Kopke's Reminiscences ofLudwia Ticclc, 1856. "^ rilANCIS, EARL OF ELLESMERE. There is something in Johnson's remark, that personal merits in a man of high rank deserve to be 'handsomely acknowledged.' Sure of homage on account of birth and means, it must be unusually good impulses which lead him to study, to useful arts, or to administrative business. The second son of the Duke and Duchess of Sutherland, destined to an immense collateral inheritance, the Earl of EUesmere devoted himself to elegant literature — in which his own efforts were far above mediocrity — to the patronage of the ennobling arts, and to disinteresteci duty in the public service. The benevolence of his nature led him in early life, as a member of the House of Commons, to lean to a liberal class of measures which were then little patronised, but the benefits of which were afterwards realised. At a time, moreover, when few were thinking much of the tastes and grati- fications of the great body of the people, Lord Ellesmere prepared a splendid picture gallery which he made easily accessible to the public. This amiable nobleman died on the 18th Feb- ruary 1857. WILLIAM "WTCHERLEY. While a literary man has his natural life, like other men, his fame has another and distinct life, which grows to maturity, flourishes a greater or less space of time, decays, and comes to an end, or in rare cases perseveres in a sort of im- mortality. Wycherley is one of the larger class of poets whose fame-life may be said to have died. First, his poems dropped out of notice ; finally, his plays. Yet his name has still a place in literary biography, if only for one or two anec- dotes which it includes, and for his having as a veteran patronised the youthful Pope. One of Wycherley 's most successful plays was entitled The Plain Dealer ; and thereby hangs one of the anecdotes : ' Wycherley went down to Tunbridge, to take either the benefit of the waters or the diversions of the place ; when walking one day upon the Wells Walk, with his friend Mr Fairbeard of Gray's Inn, just as he came up to the bookseller's, the Countess of Drogheda, a young widow, rich and beautiful, came to the bookseller and inquired for The Plain Dealer. " Madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "since you are for the Plain Dealer, there he is for you," pushing Mr Wycherley towards her. " Yes," says Mr Wycherley, " this lady can bear plain clealing,- for she appears to be so accomplished, that what would be a compliment to others, when said to her would be plain deal- ing." " ISTo, truly, sir," said the lady, " I am not without my faults more than the rest of my se.x : and yet, notwitlistanding all my faults, I love plain dealing, and never am more fond of it than when it tells me of a fault." " Then, madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "you and the Plain Dealer seem designed by heaven for eacli other." ' In short, Mr Wycherley accompanied her on her walks, waited upon her home, visited her daily at her lodgings whilst she stayed at Tun- bridge, and after she went to London, at her lodgings in Hatton Garden, where in a little time he obtained her consent to marry her.'* The story unfortunately does not end so * Gibber's Lives of the Poets, 5 vols. 1753; vol. iii. p. 252. 25 LOUIS X7I. OF FRANCE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DISCOVERY OF THE PLANETOIDS. pleasantly. The hulj' proved unreasonably jealous, and led her liusband a rather sad life. After her death, her bequest to him Avas disputed at law. and, drowned in debt, he was immured in a jail for seven years ! — such frightful penalties being then exigible by creditors. LOUIS XII. OF FRANCE. He was one of the few sovereigns of Fr.ance who were entirely estimable. He was sober, sweet-natured, modest, laborious, loved know- ledge, Avas filled with sentiments of honour, religion, and benevolence. He strove hj economy to keej) down the amount of the public burdens, and when his frugal habits were ridiculed in the theatre, he said laughingly that he would rather have the people to be amused by his stinginess than groan under his prodigality. He held as a principle that the justice of a prince obliged him to owe nothing, rather than his greatness to give much. It was rare indeed to tind such correct ideas regarding the use and value of money in those daj's. The first wife of Louis XII. being dead, he married, at fifty-three, a second and youthful spouse, the Princess Mary, sister of Henry VIII., and did not outlive the event three months. His widow returned to her own country, and married her first lover, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. CORONATION OF CHARLES II. AT SCONE, 1651. On the 1st of January 1651, the son of Charles I. was crowned as Charles II. by the Scots at Scone, the southern part of the country being occupied at the time by Cromwell with a hostile army. The extreme measure of cutting off the late king and extinguishing the monarchy was generally disapproved of in Scotland ; but in taking up the yoimg king, the Scots were chiefly animated by a desire of preserving and advancing their favourite Presbyterian church arrangements, according to the spirit of the famous Solemn League and Covenant. Charles, who was then only twenty, being anxious to get a footing in his father's lost dominions, consented, much against his will, to accept this Covenant, which inferred an active l^ersecution of both popery and prelacy ; and the Scots accordingly received him amongst them, fought a battle for him against Cromwell at Dunbar, and now crowned him. A sermon was preached on the occasion by Mr Eobert Douglas, who had the reputation (but upon no just grounds) of being a descendant of Mary queen of Scots. The crown was put uj)on the young king's head by the Marquis of Argyle, whom ten years after he sent to the scaffold for compliances with Crom- well. The defeat of the Scots and their young king at Worcester on the 3d September of this year put an end to Charles's adventure, and he with difficulty escaped out of the country. How he subsequently treated the Covenant and its adherents need not here be particiilarised. JfARCH OF GENERAL MONK FROM COLDSTREAM. On the 1st of January 1660, General Monk commenced that march from Scotland to London which was so instrumental in effecting the Eestor- 26 ation. He started with his little army of six or seven thousand men from the town of Coldstream, in Berwickshire — a name which has been com- memorated in the title of a regiment which he is believed to have embodied at the place, or soon after. Monk had spent about three weeks at Coldstream, which was a favourable spot for his purpose, as the Tweed was there fordable ; but he seems to have found it a dismal place to quar- ter in. On his first arrival, he could get no provisions for his own dinner, and was obliged to content himself with a quid of tobacco. His chaplains, less easily satisfied, roamed about till they obtained a meal at the house of the Eai'l of Hume near by. — Monk, a Historical Study, ly M. Guizot, translated hy J. Stuart Wortley, 1838. UNION OF IRELAND WITH GREAT BRITAIN, 1801. . On the 1st of January 1801 — the initial day of the nineteenth century — Ireland passed into an incorporating union with Great Britain, and the three kingcloms were thenceforth styled the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The expression, ' initial day of the nineteenth century,' requires something to be said in its defence, for many persons regard the year 1800 as the beginning of the present century. The year 1801 is, in reality, entitled to this honour, because then only had the previous century been completed. To make this plain, let the reader reflect that it required the year 100 to complete the first century, the year 200 to complete the second century, and so on through all that followed. To say, then, that the year 1800 was the first of a new century, is to be led by sound, instead of fact. DISCOVERY OF THE PLANETOIDS. On the 1st of January 1801, the Sicilian astronomer, M. Piazzi, discovered a new planet, to which he gave the name of Ceres, in honour of a goddess formerly in much esteem in Sicily. It was the first discovered of a number of siich bodies of small size, which occupy the place due to one such body of large size, between the orbits of Mars and Juj)iter. At present (1861), the number is over seventy. ' It was noted that between the orbits of Mer- cury and Venus there is an interval of thirty-one millions of miles ; between those of Venus and the Earth, twenty-seven millions ; and between those of the Earth and Mars, fifty millions ; but between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter there intervenes the tremendous gap of three hundred and forty-nine millions of miles, to the apparent interruption of the general order, which, how- ever, is again resumed beyond Jupiter.' This wide interval, and some other considerations, having raised the suspicion of an unknown planet between Mars and Jupiter, a combination of twenty-four practical observers was formed to search for the missing link. ' On New-Year's Day 1801, ere they hiad well got into harness, Piazzi, one of their number [at Palermo], made an observation on a small star in Taurus, which he took for one of Mayer's. On the 2d of Janu- ary, he found that the supposed star had retro- NEW-TEAK S DAT FESTIVITIES. JANUARY 1. NEW-YEAE S DAY FESTIVITIES- graded no less tliau 4' in JER, and 3^' in north, declination. This retrogradation continued till about the 12th, when the movement became direct, and he followed the body till it was lost in the solar rays. Illness, however, prevented his getting observations enough to establish its nature, and he considered it to be cometary. Meantime, he had written to Bode and Oriani on the subject, but the delays of the post" in that comparatively recent day, by keeping back the intelligence, precluded its being examined during that apparition. Curiosity and zeal were, how- ever, on the alert ; Bode immediately suspected the real nature of the stranger; and Gibers, Burckhardt, and Gauss computed its orbit from the slender data thus afforded. The knowledge of its having been stationary on the 12th of January, with an elongation from the sun of 4" 2° 37' 48'' aided the computation, and proved it to be a superior planet Thus was Ceres discovered on the 1st of January 1801. Its diameter, according to Sir William Herschel, is only 163 miles.' — Smythe's Ci/cle of Celestial Objects, i. 154. ' Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe morn Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock. Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shi'ill ; But on that mom no busy flaU obeys His rousing call ; no soimds but soimds of joy Salute the year — the first-foot's entering stej). That sudden on the floor is welcome heard, Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ; The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year Pronounced with honest warmth. In village, gi-ange. And borough town, the steaming flagon, borne From house to house, elates the poor man's heart. And makes him feel that life has still its joys. The aged and the young, man, Avoman, child, Unite in social glee ; even stranger docs. Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside Theii- snarhng aspect, and in sportive chase, Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow. With sober cheerfidness, the gi-andam eyes Her offspring roimd her, aU in health and peace ; And, thankful that she's spared to see this day Retiu-n once more, breathes low a secret prayer. That God woiUd shed a blessing on their heads.' Grahame. As New- Year's Day, the first of January bears a prominent place in the popular calendar. It has ever been a custom among northern nations to see the old year out and the new one in, with the highest demonstrations of merriment and conviviality. To but a few docs it seem to occur that the day is a memorandum of the subtraction of another year from the little sum of life ; with the multitude, the top feeling is a desire to express good wishes for the next twelvemonths' experience of their friends, and be the subject of similar benevolence on the part of others, and to sec this interchange of cordial feeling take place, as far as possible, in festive circumstances. It is seldom that an English family fails to sit up on the last night of the year till twelve o'clock, along with a few friends, to drink a happy New Year to each other over a cheerful glass. Very frequently, too, persons nearly related but living apart, dine with each other on this day, to keep alive and cultivate mutual good feeling. It cannot be doubted that a custom of this kind must tend to obliterate any shades of dissatisfaction or jealous anger, that may have arisen during the previous year, and send the kindred onward through the next with renewed esteem and regard. To the same good purpose works the old custom of giving little presents among friends on this day : ' The King of Light, father of aged Time, Hath brought about that day which is the prime. To the slow-gliding months, when every eye Wears symptoms of a sober joUity.' Charles Lamb had a strong appreciation of the social character of New- Year's Day. He remarks that no one of whatever rank can regard it with indifference. ' Of all sounds of all bells,' says he, ' most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the old year. I never hear it without a gathering up of my mind to a concentration of all the images that have been diffused over the j)ast twelvemonth ; all I have done or suffered, performed or neglected, in that regretted time. I begin to know its worth as when a person dies. It takes a personal colour ; nor was it a poetical flight in a contemporary, when he exclaimed : " I saw the skirts of the departing year." ' One could wish that the genial Elia had added something in recommendation of resolutions of improvement of the year to come, for which New- Year's Day is surely a most appropriate time. ' Every first of January that we arrive at, is an imaginary milestone on the turnpike track of human life : at once a resting-place for thought and meditation, and a starting point for fresh exertion in the performance of our journey. The man who does not at \esLs\, propose to himself io be better this year than he was last, must be either very good or very bad indeed ! And only to propose to be better, is something ; if nothing else, it is an acknowledgment of our need to be so, which is the first step towards amendment. But, in fact, to propose to oneself to do well, is in some sort to do well, positively ; for there is no such thing as a stationary point in human endeavours ; he who is not worse to-day than he was yesterday, is better; and he who is not better, is worse.' * The merrymakings of New- Year's Eve and New- Year's Day are of very ancient date in England. The head of the house assembled his family around a bowl of spiced ale, comically called lamb's loool, from which he drank their healths ; then passed it to the rest, that they might drink too. The word that passed amongst them was the ancient Saxon phrase, Wass hael ; that is, To your health. Hence this came to be recognised as the "Wassail or AVassel Bowl. The poorer class of people carried a bowl adorned Avith ribbons round the neighbourhood, begging for sometliing wherewith to obtain the means of filling it, that they too might enjoy wassail as Avell as the rich. In their compotations, they had songs suitable to the occasion, of which a Gloucestershire example lias been preserved : * Mirror of the Months, 27 NEW-YEAR S DAT FESTIVITIES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. NEW-TEAR S DAT FESTIVITIES. ' Wassail ! wassail ! over the town, Our toast it is white, our ale it is brown : Our howl it is made of the maplin tree. We be f;ood fellows all ; I drink to thee. Here's to , * and to his right ear, God send our niaistcr a hapjiy New Year ; A happy Xew Year as e'er he did see — AVitli my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. Here's to ,t and to his right eye, God sentl our mistress a good Christmas pie : A good Christmas pie as e'er I did sec — With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. Here's to Filpail, J and her long tail, God send oiu- mcaster us never may fail Of a cup of good beer ; I pray you draw near. And then you shall hear our jolly wassail. Be here any maids, I suppose here be some ; Sui-e they will not let yoimg men stand on the cold stone ; Sing hey maids, come troll back the pin, And the fairest maid in the house, let us all in. Come, butler, come bring us a bowl of the best : I hope your soul in heaven may rest : But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, Then down fall butler, bowl, and all.' AThat follows is au example apparently in use amongst cliildren : ' Here we come a wassailing. Among the leaves so gi-eeu, Here we come a wandering, So fair to be seen. Chorus. Love and joy come to you, And to yoiu' wassel too. And God send you a happy New Year, A New Year, And God send you a happy New Year ! Our wassel cup is made of rosemary-tree. So is your beer of the best barley. We are not daily beggars. That beg from door to door ; But we are neighbours' children, AV^hom you have seen before. Call up the butler of this house, Put on his golden ring, Let him bring us up a glass of beer And the better we shaU sing. We have got a little purse. Made of stretching leather skin, We want a little of your money To line it well within. Bring us out a table. And spread it with a cloth ; Bi-ing us out a mouldy cheese. And some of your Christmas loaf. God bless the master of this house. Likewise the mistress too, And all the little children, That roimd the table go ! Good master and mistress. While you're sitting by the fire, Pray think of us poor children, Who are wandeiing in the mire. Chorus. Love and joy come to you,' &c. § * The name of some horse, t The name of another horse. + The name of a cow. § Notes and Queries, i. 137. 28 The custom of wassail at tlie New Year was kept up in the monasteries as well as in private houses. In front of tlie abbot, at the upper end of tlic refectory table, was placed the mighty bowl styled in their language JPoculum Caritafis, and from it the superior drank to all, and all drank in succession to each otber.* The corpora- tion feasts of London still preserve a custom that a (lords a reflex of that of the wassail bowl. A double-handled flagon full of sweetened and spiced wine being handed to the master, or other person presiding, he drinks standing to the general health, as announced by the toastmaster ; tlien passes it to his neighbour on the left hand, who drinks standing to his next neighbour, also standing, and so on it goes, till all have drunk. Such is the well-known ceremony of the Loving Clip. Till very few years ago in Scotland, the custom of the wassail bowl at the passing away of the old year might be said to be still in comparative vigour. On the approach of twelve o'clock, a hot pint was prepared — that is, a kettle or flagon full of warm, spiced, and sweetened ale, with an infu- sion of spirits.f When the clock had struck the knell of the departed year, each member of the family drank of this mixture ' A good health and a happy New Year and many of them ' to all the rest, with a general hand-shaking, and perhaps a dance round the table, with the addition of a song to the tune of Sei/ tuttie taitie : ' Weel may we a' be, 111 may we never see, Here's to the king And the gaide companie ! ' &c. The elders of the family woidd then most pro- bably sally out, with the hot kettle, and bearing also a competent provision of buns and short- bread, or bread and cheese, with the design of visiting their neighbours, and interchanging with them the same cordial greetings. If they met by the way another party similarly bent, whom they knew, they would stop and give and take sips from their respective kettles, lleaching the friend's house, they would enter with vociferous good wishes, and soon send the kettle a-circulating. If they were the first to enter the house since twelve o'clock, they were deemed as the Jlrst- foot; and, as such, it was most important, for * Arcliwolorjia, xi. 420. •|- Receipt for Making the ]Vassailbotd, — Simmer a small quantity of the following spices in a teacupful of water, viz.;- — Cardamums, clove?, nutmeg, mace, ginger, cinna- mon, and coriander. When done, put the spice to two, four, or six bottles of port, sherry, or madeira, with one pound and a half of fine loaf sugar (pounded) to four bot- tles, and set all on the fire in a clean bright saucepan ; meanwhile, have yolks of 12 and the whites of G eggs well whisked up in it. Then, when the spiced and sugared wine is a little warm, take out one teacupful ; and so on for three or four cups ; after which, when it boils, add the whole of the remainder, pouring it in gradually, and stirring it briskly all the time, so as to froth it. The moment a fine froth is obtained, toss in 12 fine soft roasted apples, and send it up hot. Spices for each bottle of wine : — 10 grains of mace, 46 grains of cloves, 37 grains of cardamums, 28 grains of cinnamon, 1 2 grains of nutmeg, 48 grains of ginger, 49 grains of coriander seeds. — Mark Lane Express. KEW-YEAE S DAY FESTIVITIES. JANUARY 1. NEW-TEAB S DAY FESTIVITIES. luck to the family in the coming year, that they shoukl make their entry, not empty-handed, but ■v\ith their hands full of cakes and bread and cheese ; of which, on the other hand, civility demanded that each individual in the house should partake. To such an extent did this custom prevail in Edinburgh in the recollection of persons still living, that, according to their account, the prin- cipal streets were more thronged between twelve FIHST-FOOTIXG IN EDIXEURGTI. and one in the morning than they usually were at midday. Much innocent mirth prevailed, and mutual good feelings were largely promoted. An unlucky circumstance, which took place on the 1st January of 1812, proved the means of nearly extinguishing the custom. A smaU party of reck- less boys formed the design of turning the inno- cent festivities of fiyst-fooiincf to account for purposes of plunder. They kept their counsel well. No sooner had the people come abroad on the principal thoroughfares of the Old Town, than these youths sallied out in small bands, and commenced the business which they had undertaken. Their previous agreement was, to look outfit' the ivliite iieclcclotJis, — such being the best mark by which they could distinguish in the dark individuals likely to carry any property worthy of being taken. A great number of gentlemen were thus spoiled of their watches and other valuables. The least resistance was resented by the most brutal maltreatment. A policeman, and a young man of the rank of a clerk in Leith, died of the injuries they had received. An affair so singular, so uncharac- teristic of the people among whom it happened, produced a widespread and lasting feeling of surprise. The outrage was expiated by the execution of three of the youthful rioters on the chief scene of their wickedness ; but from that time, it was observed that the old custom of going about with the hot pint — the ancient wassail —fell oS. A gentleman of Preston has communicated to a popular publication,* that for many years past he has been in the habit of calling on a friend, an aged lady, at an early hour of New-Year's Day, being by her own desire, as he is a fair-com- plexioned person, and therefore assumed to be of good omen for the events of the year. On one occasion, he was prevented from attending to his old friend's request, and her first caUer proved to be a dark-complexioned man ; in consequence of which there came that year sickness, trouble, and commercial disaster. In the parish of Berlen, near Snodland, in the county of Kent, are the remains of the old man- sion of Groves, originally the property of a family named Hawks. On part of this house being pulled clown in the latter part of the eighteenth century, there was found an oak beam supporting the chimney, which presented an antic^ue carving exactly represented in the engraving at the head of this article. The words Wass lieil and Drinc Jieile leave no doubt that the bowl in the centre was a representation of the wassail bowl of the time when the house was built, probably the six- teenth centuiy. The two birds on the bowl are hawks — an allusion to the name of the family which originally possessed the mansion. ' The wassail bowle,' says Warton, ' is Shak- speare's Gossip's Bowl in the Midsummer Night's Jbrcam. The composition was ale, nutmeg, sugar, toast, and z'oasted crabs or apples.' The word is interpreted by Yerstegan as loase hale — that is, grow or become well. It came in time to signify festivity in general, and that of rather an intem- perate kind. A wassail candle was a large candle used at feasts. There was in Scotland Si first fiotinrj mAe])e-!x- dent of the hot-pint. It was a time for some youthful friend of the family to steal to the door, in the hope of meeting there the young maiden of his fancy, and obtaining the privilege of a kiss, as hev first fiof. Great was the disappointment on his part, and great the joking among the family, if through accident or plan, some half-withered aunt or ancient grand-dame came to receive liim instead of the blooming Jenny. It may safely be said that New-Year's Day has hitherto been observed in Scotland with a hearti- ness nowhere surpassed. It almost appears as if, by a sort of antagonism to the general gravity of the people, they were impelled to break out in a half-mad merriment on this day. Every face was bright with smiles ; every hand ready with the grasp of friendship. All stiffness arising from age, profession, and rank, gave way. The soberest felt entitled to take a licence on that special day. Heunions of relatives very generally took place over the festive board, and thus many little family differences were obliterated. At the pre- sent time, the ancient practices are somewhat * Notes and Queries, 2d Series, ii. 325. 29 A nAPPT NEW YEAU. THE HOOK OF DAYS. thoughts for new-teae's day. decayed ; yet the First of January is far from beiug reduced to the level of other days. A grotesquo manorial custom is described as being kept up in ilie reign of Charles II., in con- nection witli Hilton in Staffordshire. There existed in that house a hollo^v brass image, about a foot high, representing a man kneeling in an indecorous posture. It -was known all over the country as Jack of Hilton. There vrei'e two apertures, one very small at the mouth, another about two-thirds of an inch in diameter at the back, and tlie interior •would hold rather more tlian four pints of water, ' which, when set to a strong fire, evaporates after the same manner as in an ^olipile, and vents itself at the mouth in a constant blast, blowing the fire so strongly that it is very audible, ajid makes a sensible impression iu that part of the tire where the blast lights.' iS^ow the custom was this. An obligation lay upon the lord of the adjacent manor of Essington, every New-Year's Day, to bring a goose to Hilton, and drive it three times round the hall fire, which Jack of Hilton was all the time blowing by the discharge of his steam. He was then to carry the bu'd into the kitchen and deliver it to the cook ; and when it was dressed, he was further to carry it in a dish to the table of his lord para- mount, the lord of Hilton, receiving in return a dish of meat for his own mess.* At Coventry, if not in other places throughout England, it is customary to eat what are called God-cakes on New-Year's Day. They are of a triangular shape, of about half an inch thick, and filled with a kind of mince-meat. There are halfpenny ones cried through the street ; but others of much greater price — even it is said to the value of a pound— are used by the ujjper classes.f ^ iappg f ^^ |car— IjiTijpiiuss. Sir John Sinclair, visiting Lord Melville at Wimbledon on the last day of the year 1795, remained all night, and next morning entered his host's room at an early hour to wish him a happy New Year. Melville, who had been reading a long paper on the importance of conquering the Cape of Good Hope, as an additional security to our Indian possessions, said, as he received the shake of his friend's hand : ' I hope this year will be happier than the last, for I scarcely recollect having spent one happy day in the whole of it.' 'This confession, coming from an individual whose whole life hitherto had been a series of triumphs, and who appeared to stand secure upon the sum- mit of political ambition, was often dwelt upon by my father, as exemplifying the vanity of human wishes.' — Memoirs of Sir John Sinclair hy his Son, 1837, i. 275. This anecdote recalls one which Gibbon extracts from the pages of Cardonne. He states that in the Closet of the Kaliph Abdalrahman the follow- ing confession was found after his decease : ' I have now reigned fifty years in victory or peace ; beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, * Plot's Natural Uistovrj of Staffordshire, p. 433. t Notes and Queries, Sep. 20, 1856, 30 and respected by my allies. Eiches and honours, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot : they amount to fourteen. O man! place not thy confidence in this present world 1 '■ — Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, x. p. 40. An actual millionaire of our time, a respected member of parliament on the liberal side, convers- ing confidently some years ago with a popular authoress, stated that he had once been a clerk in Liverpool, with forty pounds a year, living in a house of four small apartments ; and he was fully of belief that he enjoyed greater happiness then, than he has since done in Avhat must appear to the outer world as tlie most superbly fortunate and luxurious circumstances. Much has been said, first and last, by sages, preachers, and poets, about happiness and its unattainableness here below ; but, after all, there remains something to be done — a summing up for the jury, as it were. God certainly has not arranged that any such highly intelligent being as man should be perfectly happy ; we have so many faculties to be exercised, so many desires and tastes calling for their several gratifications, and so many and so critical are the circumstances of relation in which these stand towards the outer world, that such a state never can he fully attained. But that approaches may be made to happiness, that by certain conduct we may secure many innocent gratifications, and avoid many painfid experiences, is just as true. A harmonious exer- cise of the faculties in subjection to conscientious- ness and benevolence — something to be always working at, something to be always hoping for — under the guidance of reason, so as to avoid over- carefulness on the one hand and over-sanguineness on the other — these, attended by a regard to the preservation of that health of body on which health of mind so much depends, will assuredly bring us as near to happiness as Providence, for the keei^ing of us in activity,* has intended we should ever go ; and that is all but up to the ideal point. Where, after an active life, the ai^parently successful man proclaims his having altogether failed to secure happiness, we may be very sure there has been some strange inconsistency in his expectations, some undue straining in a wrong direction, some want of stimulus to the needful activity, some pervading jar between him and his life relations, or that he has been tempted into acts and positions which leave a sting in the mind. Sokm« il^ougljts for ^£fa-|Tcitr's ^ug, bg goutljcg. Come, melancholy Moraliser, come ! Gather with me the dark and ^viutry wreath , With me eugarland now The Sepulchre of Time ; Come, Moraliser, to the funeral song ! I pour the dirge of the Depai-ted Days ; For well the fimeral song Befits tliis solemn hour. NEW-YEAKS GIFTS. JANUAEY ]. NEW-YEAB S GIFTS. But hark ! even now the merry bells ring round With clamorous joy to welcome in this day, This consecrated day, To mirth and indolence. Mortal ! whilst Fortune with benignant hand Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness. Whilst her unclouded sun Illumes thy summer day, Canst tliou rejoice — rejoice that Time flies fast ? That night shall shadow soon thy summer sun ? That swift the stream of Years Rolls to eternity ? If thou hast loealth to gratify each wish, If pow'r be thine, remember what thou art — • Remember thou art Man, And Death thine heritage ! Hast thou known Love? does beauty's better sun Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile, Her eye all eloquence, Her voice aU harmouy ? Oh ! state of happiness ! hark how the gale Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove : Winter is dark and cold — Where now the charms of spring ? Sayst thou that Fancy paints the futm-e scene In hues too sombrous ? that the dark-stoled Maid With stern and frowning front Appals the shuddering sovd ? A nd wouldst thou bid me court her fairy form. When, as she sports her in some happier mood, Her many-coloured robes Dance varying to the sun ? Ah ! vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vexed height. With anxious gaze survey The fruitful far-off vale. Oh ! there are those who love the pensive song. To whom aU soimds of mu-th are dissonant ! There are who at this hour ■ AVill love to contemplate ! For hopeless sorrow hail the lapse of Time, Rejoicing when the fadmg orb of day Is sunk again in uight. That one day more is gone ! And he. who bears Aflliction's hea^'y load With patient piety, well pleased he knows The World a pilgrimage. The Grave the inn of rest 1 Tlie custom of making presents on ]S'evr-Yeai''s Day has, as far as regards the intercourse of the adult population, become almost if not entirely obsolete. Presents are generally pleasant to the receiver on any day of the year, and are still made, but not on this day especially. The practice on New-Year's Day is now limited to gifts made by parents to their children, or by the elder collateral members of a family to the younger ; but the old custom, which has been gradually, like the drinking of healths, falling into disuse "in England, is still in full force in France, as will presently be more particularly adverted to. The practice of making presents on New- Year's Day was, no doubt, derived from the Eomaiis. Suetonius and Tacitus both mention it. Claudius Si'ohibited demanding presents except on this day. rand, in his Popular Antiquiiies, observes, on the authority of Bishop Stillingfleet, that the Saxons kept the festival of the New Year with more than ordinary feasting and jollity, and with the presenting of New- Year's gifts to each other. Fosbroke notices the continuation of the practice during the middle ages ; and Ellis, in his additions to Brand, quotes Matthew Paris to shew that Henry III. extorted New-Year's gifts from his subjects. The New- Year's gifts presented by individuals to each other were suited to sex, rank, situation, and circumstances. From Bishop Hall's Satires (1598), it appears that the usual gifts of tenants in the country to their landlords was a capon ; and Cowley, addressing the same class of society, says : ' When with low legs and in an hmuble guise Ye offered up a capon-sacrifice Unto his worship at the New- Year's tide.' Ben Jonson, in his 3fasque of Christinas, among other characters introduces ' New-Year's Gift in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, and a sprig of rosemary on his head, his hat full of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread, his torch-bearer carrying a marchpane, with a bottle of wine on either arm.' An orange stuck with cloves was a common present, and is explained by Lupton, who says that the flavour of wine is improved, and the wine itself preserved from mouldiness, by an orange or lemon stuck with cloves being hung within the vessel, so as not to touch the liquor. Gloves were customary New-Year's gifts. They were formerly a more expensive article than they are at present, and occasionally a sum of money was given instead, which, was called 'glove-money.' Presents were of course made to persons in autho- rity to secure favour, and too often were accepted by magistrates and judges. Sir Thomas More having, as lord chancellor, decided a cause in favour of a lady with the unattractive name of Croaker, on the ensuing New- Year's Day she sent him a pair of gloves with forty of the gold coins calledan angel in them. SirThomas returned the gold with the following note : ' Mistress, since it were against good manners to refuse your New- Year's gift, I am content to take your gloves, but as for i\x.e lining I utterly refuse it.' When pins were first invented and brought into use about the beginning of the sixteenth century, they were a New-Year's gift very ac- ceptable to ladies, and money given for the purchase of them was called 'pin-money,' an expression which has been extended to a sum of money secured by a husband on Lis marriage for the private expenses of his wife. Pins made of metal, in their present form, must have been in use some time previous to 1543, in which year a statute was passed (35 Hen. VIII. c. 6), entitled ' An Acte for the true making of Pynnes,' in which it was enacted that the price charged should not exceed 65. Sd. a thousand. Pins were previously made of boxwood, bone, and silver, for the richer classes ; those used by the poor were of common wood — in fact, skewers. The custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to 31 NEW-YEAR S GIFTS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. NEW-YEAK S GIFTS. the sovereigns of England may be ti'aced back to the time of Heniy A^'I. In Eymer's Fcedcra, vol. X. p. 3S7, a list is given of gifts received by the king between Christmas Pay and February 4, 1128, consisting of sums of 40o?., 205., 13*. M., 105., 05. 8(/., and 35. Ad. A manuscript roll of the public revenue of the fifth year of I'.dward A"I. has an entry of rewards given ou IN'ew-year's Day to the king's ofliccrs and servants, amounting' to £155, 55., and also of sums given to the servants of those who presented !Xew-Year's fjifts to the king. A similar roll has been preserved of the reign of Philip and Mary. The Lord Cardinal Pole gave a ' saulte,' with a cover of silver and gilt, having a stone therein much enamelled of the story of Job; and received a pair of gilt silver pots, weighing 113:} ounces. The queen's sister, the Lady Elizabeth, gave the fore part of a Icyrtell, with a pair of sleeves of cloth of silver, richly embroidered over with Venice silver, and rayed with silver and black silk ; and received three gilt silver bowls, weighing 132 ounces. Other gifts were — a sacrament cloth; a cup of cr3-stal; a lute in a case, covei'ed with black silk and gold, with two little round tables, the one of the phisnamij of the emperor and the king's majesty, the other of the king of Bohemia and his wife. Other gifts consisted of hosea of Crarnsey- making, fruits, sugar-loaves, gloves, Turkey hens, a fat goose and capon, two swans, two fat oxen, conserves, rose-water, and other articles. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to the sovereign was carried to an extravagant height. The queen delighted in gorgeous dresses, in jewellery, in all kinds of ornaments for her person and palaces, and in purses filled with gold coin. The gifts regularly presented to her were of great value. An exact and descriptive inven- tory of them was made every year on a roll, which was signed by the queen herself, and by the proper officers. Nichols, in his Progresses of Queen Elizahetli, has given an accurate transcript of five of these rolls. The presents were made by the great officers of state, peers and peeresses, bishops, knights and their ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen, physicians, apothecaries, and others of lower grade, down to her majesty's dustman. The presents consisted of sums of money, costly articles of ornament for the queen's person or apartments, caskets studded with precious stones, valuable necklaces, bracelets, gowns, embroidered mantles, smocks, petticoats, looking-glasses, fims, silk stockings, and a great variety of other articles. Howell, in his History of the World, mentions that 'Queen Elizabeth, in 1561, was presented with a pair of black silk knit stockings by her silk-woman, Mrs Montague, and thence- forth she never wore cloth hose any more.' The value of the gifts in each year cannot be ascer- tained, but some estimate may be made of it from the presents of gilt plate which were in all instances given in return by the queen; an exact account having been entered on the roll of the weight of the plate which each individual received m return for his gift. The total weight in 1577-8 amounted to 5883 ounces. The largest sum of money given by any temporal lord was £20 ; but the Archbishop of Canterbury gave £10, the Archbishop of York £30, and other spiritual lords £20 or £10. The total amount in the year 1561-2 of money gifts was £1262, II5. %d. The queen's wardrobe and jewellery must have been principally supplied from her New- Year's gifts. The Earl of Leicester's New-Year's gifts ex- ceeded those of any other nobleman in costliness and elaborate workmanship. The description of the gift of 1571-2 may be given as a specimen : ' One armlet, or sliakell of gold, all over fairely garnished with rubyes and dyamondes, haveing in the closing thearof a clocke, and in the fore part of the same a fayre lozengie dyamonde without a foyle, hanging thearat a round juell fully garnished with dyamondes, and perle pend- ant, weying 11 oz. qu. dim., and farthing goldo weight : in a case of piu'ple vcUate all over em- branderld with Venice golde, and lyned with greene vellat.' In the reign of James I. the money gifts seem to have been continvied for some time, but the ornamental articles presented appear to have been few and of small value. In January 1601, Sir Dudley Carleton, in a letter to Mr Winwood, observes : ' New-Year's Day passed without any solemnity, and the accustomed present of the purse and gold was hard to be had without ask- ing.' Mr Nichols, in a note on this passage, observes : ' During the reigns of King Edward VI., Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, the ceremony of giving and receiving New- Year's gifts at Court, which had long before been cus- tomary, was never omitted, audit was continued at least in the early years of King James ; but I have never met with a roll of those gifts similar to the several specimens of them in the Progresses of Queen EUzahetli.' He afterwards, however, met with such a roll, which he has copied, and in a note attached to the commencement of the roll, he makes the following remarks : ' Since the note in that page [471 of vol. i.. Progresses of James Z.J was printed, the roll here accurately transcribed has been purchased by the trustees of the British Museum, from Mr Rodd, book- seller of Great Newport Street, in whose cata- logue for 1824 it is mentioned. It is above ten feet in length ; and, like the five printed in Queen Elizabeth's "Progresses, "exhibits the gifts to the king on one side, and those from his ma- jesty on the other, both sides being signed by the royal hand at top and bottom. The gifts cer- tainly cannot compete in point of curiosity with those of either Queen Mary's or Queen Eliza- beth's reign. Instead of curious articles of dress, rich jewels, &c., nothing was given by the nobility but gold coin.' The gifts from the nobility and prelates amounted altogether to £1293, 135. 4r?. The remainder were from per- sons who held some office about the king or court, and were generally articles of small value. The Duke of Lennox and the Archbishop of Canterbury gave each £10; all other temporal lords, £20 or £10 ; and the other spiritual lords, £30, £20, £13, 65. 8^., or £10. The Duke of Lennox received 50 ounces of plate, the Arch- bishop of Canterbury 55 ounces ; those who gave £20 received about 30 ounces, and for NEW- YEAR S GIFTS. JANUAEY 1. NEW-YEAE S GIFTS. smaller sums the return-gift was iu a similar proportion. No rolls, nor indeed any notices, seem to liavc been preserved of New-Year's gifts presented to Charles I., though probably there were such. The custom, no doubt, ceased entirely during the Commonwealth, and was never afterwards revived, at least to any extent worthy of notice. Mr Nichols mentions that the last remains of the custom at court consisted in placing a crown- piece under the plate of each of the chaplains in waiting on New- Year's Day, and that this cvistom had ceased early in the nineteenth cen- tury. There is a pleasant story of a New- Year's gift in the reign of King Charles I., in which the court jester, Archy Armstrong, figures as for once not the maker, but the victim of a jest. Coming on that morn to a nobleman to bid him good-morrow, Archy received a few gold pieces ; which, however, falling short of his expectations in amount, he shook discontentedly in his hand, muttering that they were too light. The donor said : ' Prithee, then, Archy, let me see them again ; and, by the way, there is one of them which I would be loth to part with.' Archy, expecting to get a larger gift, returned the pieces to his lordship, who put them in his pocket, with the remark : ' I once gave my money into the hands of a fool, who had not the wit to keep it.' — Banquet of Jesfs, 1634. It cannot be said that the custom of giving presents to sviperiors was a very rational one : one can even imagine it to have been something rather oppressive — ' a custom more honoured in the breach than the observance.' Yet Robert Herrick seems to have found no difficulty in bringing the smiles of his cheerful muse to bear upon it. It must be admitted, indeed, that the author of the Hesperides made his poem the gift. Thus it is he addresses Sir Simon Steward in . ' A jolly Verse, crowned with ivy and ^vith holly ; That tolls of winter's tales and mirth, That milkmaids make about the hearth ; Of Christmas' sports, the wassail bowl, That's tost up after fox-i'-th'-hole; Of bliud-man-bufF, antl of the care That young men have to shoe the mare ; Of twelfth-tide cakes, of pease and beans, Wherewith ye make those merry scenes; Of crackling laurel, which fore-sounds A plenteous harvest to yom* grounds ; Of those, and such like things, for shift, We send, instead of New- Year''s gift. Head then, and when your faces shine AVith buxom meat and cap'ring wine, llemember us in cups fidl crown'd, And let our city-health go round. Then, as ye sit about your embers, Call ntjt to mind the fled Decembers ; But think on these, that are t' appear As (laughters to the instant year ; And to the bagpipes all address, Till sleep take place of weariness. And thus tliroiighout, with Christmas plays, Frolic the full twelve holidays.' The custom of giving of presents among rela- tives and friends is much declined in Eng- land, but is still kept xip with surprising o vigour in Paris, where the day is especially recognised from this circumstance as Le Jour d'Etrennes. Parents then bestow portions on their children, brothers on their sisters, and hus- bands make settlements on their wives. The mere externals of the day, as observed in Paris, ai'e of a striking character: they were described as follows in an English journal, as observed in the year 1824, while as yet the restored Bourbon reigned in Erance : ' Carriages,' says this writer, ' may be seen rolling through the streets with cargoes of bon-bons, souvenirs, and the variety of etceteras with which little children and grown tip children are bribed into good humour ; and here and there pastrycooks are to be met with, carrying upon boards enormous temples, pagodas, churches, and playhouses, made of fine flour and sugar, and the embellishments which render French pastry so inviting. But there is one street in Paris to which a New- Year's Day is a whole year's fortune — this is the Eue des Lombards, where the wholesale confectioners reside; for in Paris every trade and profession has its peculiar quarter. For several days pre- ceding the 1st of January, this street is com- pletely blocked up by carts and wagons laden with cases of sweetmeats for the provinces. These are of every form and description which the most singular fancy could imagine ; bunches of carrots, green peas, boots and shoes, lobsters and crabs, hats, books, musical instruments, gridirons, frying-pans, and sauce-pans ; all made of sugar, and coloured to imitate reality, and all made with a hollow within to hold the bon-bons. The most prevailing device is what is called a cornet; that is, a little cone ornamented in different ways, with a bag to draw over the large end, and close it up. In these things, the prices of which vary from one franc (tenpence) to fifty, the bon- bons are presented by those who choose to be at the expense of them, and by those who do not, they are only wrapped in a piece of paper ; but bon-bons, in some way or other, must be pre- sented. It would not, perhaps, be an exaggera- tion to state that the amount expended for pre- sents on New- Year's Day in Paris, for sweet- meats alone, exceeds 500,000 francs, or £20,000 sterling. Jewellery is also sold to a very large amount, and the fancy articles exported in the first week of the year to England and other countries, is computed at one-fourth of the sale during the twelvemonths. In Paris, it is by no means uncommon for a man of 8000 or 10,000 francs a year, to make presents on New- Year's Day which cost him a fifteenth part of his income. No person able to give must on this day pay a visit empty-handed. Everybody accepts, and every man gives according to the means which he possesses. Females alone are excepted from the charge of giving. A pretty woman, respectably connected, may reckon her New-Year's presents at something considerable. Gowns, jewellery, gloves, stockings, and artificial flowers fill her drawing-room :"for in Paris it is a custom to dis- play ail the gifts, in order to excite emulation, and to obtain as much as possible. At the palace, Ihe New- Year's Day is a complete jour de fete. Every branch of the royal family is then expected to make handsome presents to the king. For the ' 33 nonsox, the cakkiee. THE BOOK OF DAYS. HOBSON, THE CAEIUEE. sis montlis preceding January 1824, tlie female branches -were busily occupied in preparing pre- sents of tlieir own manufactm-e, whicli would fill at least t^yo common-sized wagons. The Duchess de Ik^rri painted an entire room of japanned panels, to be set iip in the palace, and the Duchess of Orleans prepared an elegant screen. Au English gentleman, who was admitted suddenly into the presence of the Duchess de Berri two months before, found her and three of her maids of honour, lying on tlie carpet, painting the legs of a set of chaii-s, which were intended for the king. The day commences with the Parisians, at au carl}'' hour, by the interchange of their visits and bon-bons. The nearest relations are visited first, untd. the furthest in blood have had their calls ; then friends and acquaintances. The conflict to anticipate each other's calls, occasions the most agreeable and whimsical scenes among these pro- ficients in polite attentions. In these visits, and in gossiping at the confectioners' shops, which arc the great lounge for the occasion, tlie morn- ing of jNew- Year's Day is passed ; a dinner is given by some member of the family to all the rest, and the evening concludes, like Christ- mas Day, with cards, dancing, or any other amusement that may be preferred.' HOBSO^% THE CAMBRIDGE CAREIEE.. Died, January 1, 1G30-1, Thomas Hobson, of Cambridge, the celebrated University carrier, who had the honour of two epitaphs written upon him by Milton. He was born in or about 1544 ; his father was a carrier, and he bequeathed to him ' the team ware, with which he now goeth, that is to say, the cart and eight horses,' harness, nag, &e. After his father's death, lie continued the business of a carrier with great success ; a considerable profit was then made by carrying letters, which the University of Cambridge licensed persons to do, before and after the intro- duction of the post-office system. The old man for many years passed monthly vrith his team between his own home in Cambridge, and the Bidl Inn in Bishopsgate-street, and back again, convej^ing both packages and human beings. He is also said to have been the first person in the kingdom who let horses for hire, and the scru- pidous pertinacity with which he refused to aUow any horse to be taken from his stables except in its proper turn, has given him a kind of celebrity. If the horse he ofiered to his customer was objected to, he curtly replied, ' This or none ; ' and ' Hobson's choice^this or none,' became a proverb, which it is to this day. Steele, in the Spectator, No. 509, however, con- siders the proverb to be ' by vulgar error taken and used when a man is reduced to an extremity, whereas the propriety of the maxim is to use it when you would say. There is plenty, but you must make such a choice as not to hurt another who is to come after you.' ' He lived in Cam- bridge, and observing that the scholars rid hard, his manner was to keep a large stable of horses, with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the gentlemen at once, without going from college to college to borrow.' He used to tell the scholars they would ' come time enough to London if they o4 did not ride too fast.' By his rule of taking the horse which stood next the stable-door, ' every customer,' says Steele, ' was alike well served according to his chance, and every horse ridden with the same justice. This memorable man stands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he used) in Bishopsgate-street, with an hundred pound bag under his arm.' Hobson grew rich by his business : in 1604, he contributed £50 to the loan to King James I. In 1626, he gave a large Bible to the church of St Benedict, in which parish he resided. He became possessed of several manors, and, in 1628, gave to the University and town the site of the Spinning House, or ' Hobson's Workhouse.' In 1630, Hobson's visits to London were sus- pended by order of the authorities, on account of the plague being in London ; and it was during this cessation from business that lie died. Md- ton, in one of his epitaphs on him, quaintly adverts to this fact, remarking that Death would never have hit him had he continued dodging it backwards and forwards between Cambridge and the BuU. Hobson was twice married. By his first wife he had eight chUdren, and he survived his second wife. He bequeathed considerable property to his famUy ; money to the corporation, and the profits of certain pasture-land (now the site of Downing College) towards the maintenance and heightening of the conduit in Cambridge. He also left money to the poor of Cambridge, Ches- terton, Waterbeach, Cottenham, and Bunting- ford, of which latter place he is believed to have been a native. He was buried in the chancel of Benedict's church, but no monument or inscrip- tion marks the spot. In one of Mdton's humor- ous epitaphs on him, reference is made to his cart and wain, which proves that there is no foundation for the popular opinion that Hobson carried on his business by means of packhorses. In the second epitaph it is amusing to hear the author of England's solemn epic indulging in droll- eries and j)uns regarding poor Hobson, the carrier : ' Eest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, Aud too much breathing put him out of breath ; Nor were it coutrachction to affinn Too long vacation hastened on his term. Merely to drive the time away he sickened. Fainted, and died, nor would with all be quickened. Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right, He died for weariness that his cart went light : His leisure told him that his tune was come, ■ And lack of load made his life burdensome : Obedient to the Moon, he spent his date In course rccipi'ocal, and had his fate Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas ; Yefc, sti-ange to think, his wain was his increase. His letters are delivered all aud gone, Ordy remains this superscription.' Several memorials of the benevolent old carrier, who is believed to have reached his eighty-fiflli year, are preserved. There was formerly a pic- ture of him at Anglesey Abbey ; and Eoger Yorke had another, supposed to have belonged to Mrs Katherine Pepys, who, in her will dated 1700, bequeathed ' old Mr Hobson's picture.' His saddle and bridle were preserved in the town-hall at Cambridge duinng the present cen- HOBSON, THE CARRIER. JANUAEY 2. ST MACARICP. tury. A publio-lioiise in the town was called ' Old Hobson,' and another ' Hobson's House ; ' but he is traditionally said to have resided at the south-west corner of Pease Hill, and the site of the two adjoining houses were his stables. Even in his life-time his popularity must have been great, as in 1617 was published a quarto tract, entitled ' Hobson's Horseload of Letters, or Pi-ecedent for Epistles of Business, &c.' The name of Hobson has been given to a street in Cambridge, ' in which have long resided Messrs Swann and Sons, carriers, who possess a curious portrait of Hobson, mounted on a stately black nag. This was preserved for many years at Hobson's London inn, the Bull, in Bishopsgate Street.'- — Cooper's Annals of Cambridge, vol. iii. p. 236. There are several engraved portraits of Hob- son : that by John Payne, who died about 1648, represents Hobson in a cloak, grasping a bag of money, and has these lines underneath : ' Laugh not to see so plaiue a man in print, The shadow's homely, yet there's something in't. Witness the Bagg he wears (though seeming poore), The fertile Mother of a thousand more : He was a thriving Man, through lawful gain, And wealthy grew by warrantable faune. Men laugh at them that spend, not them that gather, Like thriving souues of such a thrifty Father.' nsr, W ^-a:.5ferj| i:ur:-!0N, rin^ CAMi^K::) From Ike Print by Payne. This print is, most probably, from the fresco figure at the Bull Inn, which, in Chalmers's Eiujlhlt Toets, 1810, is stated as ' lately to be seen,' but it has long since disappeared ; and the Bull is more modernised than cither the Green Dragon or the Four Swans inns, at a few houses distant: the Green Dragon has its outer gal- leries remaining, but modernised and inclosed with glass ; the Four Swaus is still more perfect, and is, perhaps, the most entire galleried inn which remains in the metropolis, and shews how well adapted were the inns of old for the repre- sentation of stage plays. That the Bull was indeed for this purpose, we have evidence — the yard hav- ing supplied a stage to our early actors before James Burbage and his fellows obtained a patent from Queen Elizabeth for erecting a permanent building for theatrical entertainments. Tarlton often played here. — Collier's Annuls, vol. iii. p. 291, and Tarlton's Jests, by Halliwell, pp. 13, LI. Anthony Bacon (the brother of Francis) lived in Bishopsgate Street, not far from the Bull Inn, to the great annoyance of his mother, who dreaded that the plays and interludes acted at the Bull might corrupt his servants. On the whole, we obtain a pleasing idea of Hohson, as an honest, painstaking man ; a little arbitrary perhaps, but full of sound principle, and essentially a well-wisher to his species. JANUARY 2. St Macarius of Alexandria, anchoret. St Coucordius, martyr. St Adelard, abbot. [It is not possible in this work to give special notices of all the saints of the Eomish calendar ; nor is it desirable that such should be done. There are, however, several of them who make a prominent figure in history ; some have been remarkable as active and self-devoted missionaries of civilisation ; while others supply curious exam- ples of the singularities of which men are capable under what are now very generally regarded as morbid views of religion. Of such persons it does not seem improper that notices of a dis- passionate nature should be given, among other memorable matters connected with the days of the year.] ST MACARIUS. St Macarius was a notable example of those early Christians who, for the sake of heavenly meditation, forsook the world and retired to live in savage wildernesses. Originally a confectioner in Alexandria, he withdrew, about the year 325. into the Thebais in Upper Egypt, and devoted liims elf wholly to religious thoughts. Afterwards, lie took lip his abode in still remoter deserts, bordering on Lybia, where there were indeed other hermits, but all out of sight of each other. Tie exceeded his neighbours in the practice of those austerities whicli were then thought the highest qualification for the blessed abodes of the futu^rc. 'For seven years together,' says Alban Butler, ' he lived only on raw herbs and ]ralse, and for the three following years con- tented himself with four or five ounces of bread a day ; ' not a fifth part of the diet required to keep the inmates of modern gaols in good health. Hearing great things of the self-denial of the monks of Tabenna, he went there in disguise, and astonished them all by passing through Lent on the aliment furnished by a few green cabbage leaves eaten on Sundays. He it was of whom the striking story is told, that, having once kUlcd a gnat which bit him, he immediately hastened 35 ST MACAEITTS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. GENEEAL WOLFE. in a penitent and self-mortifying humour to tlie mavslies of Seete, -wliieli abound with great flies, a torment even to the wihl boar, and exposed himself to these ravaging insects for six months ; at the end of whieh time his body was a mass of putrid sores, and he only could be recognised by his voice.* The self-devoting, self-denying, self- tormenting anchoret is an eccentricity of human nature now much out of fashion ; which, however, we may still contemplate with some degree of interest, for the basis of the character is connected with both true religion and true virtue. We are told of Macarius that he was exposed to many temp- tations. ' One,' says Butler, ' was a suggestion to quit his desert and go to Home, to serve the sick in the hospitals ; which, by due reflection, he discovered to be a secret artifice of vain-glory inciting him to attract the eyes and esteem of the world. True humility alone could discover the snare which lurked under the specious gloss of holy charity. Finding this enemy extremely importunate, he threw himself on the ground in his cell, and cried out to the fiends, " Drag me hence, if you can, by force, for I will not stir." Thus he lay till night, and by this vigorous resistance they were quite disarmed. As soon as he arose they renewed the assault ; and he, to stand firm against them, filled two great baskets with sand, and laying them on his shoulders, travelled along the wilderness. A person of his acquaintance meeting him, asked him what he meant, and made an ofler of easing him of his burden ; but the saint made no other reply than this: "I am tormenting my tormentor." He returned home in the evening, much fatigued ui body, but freed from the temptation. St Macarius once saw in a vision, devils closing the eyes of the monks to drowsiness, and tempting them by diverse methods to distractions, during the time of public prayer. Some, as often as they approached, chased them away by a secret supernatural force, whilst others were in dalliance with their suggestions. The saint burst into sighs and tears ; and, when prayer was ended, admonished every one of his distractions, and of the snares of the enemy, with an earnest exhorta- tion to emploj'. in that sacred duty, a more than ordinary watchfulness against his attacks. St Jerom and others relate, that, a certain anchoret in jN^itria having left one hundred crowns at his death, which he had acquired by weaving cloth, the monks of that desert met to delibei-ate what should be done with the money. Some were for having it given to the poor, others to the church ; but Macarius, Pambo, Isidore, and others, who were called the fathers, ordained that the one hundred crowns should be thrown into the grave and buried with the corpse of the deceased, and that at the same time the following words should be pronounced : May thy money he with thee to perdition.-^ This example struck such a terror into all the monks, that no one durst lay up any money by him.' Butler quotes the definition of an anchoret given by the Abbot Eance de la Trappe, as a lively portraiture of the great Macarius : ' When,' * Butler's Lives of the Saints. 36 t Acts viii. 20. says he, ' a soul relishes God in solitude, she thinks no more of anything but heaven, and forgets the earth, which has nothing in it that can now please her ; she burns witli the fire of divine love, and sighs only after God, regarding death as her greatest advantage : nevertheless they will find themselves much mistaken, who, leaving the world, imagine they shall go to God by straight paths, by roads sown with lilies and roses, in which they will have no difficulties to conquer, but that the hand of God will turn aside whatever could i*aise any in their way, or disturb the tranf|uillity of their retreat : on the contrary, they must be persuaded that tempta- tions will everywhere follow them, that there is neither state nor place in which they can be exempt, that the peace Avhich God promises is procured amidst tribulations, as the rose buds amidst thorns ; God has not promised his ser- vants that they shall not meet with trials, but that with the temptation he will give them grace to be able to bear it : heaven is oflcred to us on no other conditions ; it is a kingdom of conquest, the prize of victory— but, O God, what a prize ! ' Born. — John, Marquis of Granby, 1721; Gei.eral Wolfe, JJ'eslerham, Kent, 1727. Died. — Publius Ovidius Naso, the Roman poet, 18; Titus Livius, the Ro;nau historian, 18, Padua; Alexan- der, Earl of Rosslyii, Lord Chancellor of England, 1805; Dr John Masou Good, 1827; Dr Andrew Ure, chemist, 1857. GENERAL WOLFE. When, in 1759, Pitt entrusted General AVolfe with the expedition against Quebec, on the day preceding his embarkation, Pitt, desirous of giving his last verbal instructions, invited him to dinner at Hayes, Lord Temple being the only other guest. As the evening advanced, Wolfe, heated, perhaps by his own aspiring thoughts, and the unwonted society of statesmen, broke forth in a strain of gasconade and bravado. He drew his sword and rapped the table with it, he flourished it round the room, and he talked of the mighty things which that sword was to achieve. The two ^Ministers sat aghast at an exhibition so un- usual from any man of real sense and spirit. And when, at last, Wolfe had taken his leave, and his carriage was heard to roll from the door, Pitt seemed for the moment shaken in the right opinion which his deliberate judgment had formed of Wolfe : he lifted up his eyes and arms, and ex- claimed to Lord Temple : ' Good God ! that I should have entrusted the fate of the country and of the administration to such hands ! ' This story was told by Lord Temple himself to the Et. Hon. Thomas Grcnville, the friend of Lord Mahon, who has inserted the anecdote in his History of England, vol. iv. Lord Temple also told Mr Grenville, that on the evening in question, Wolfe had partaken most sparingly of wine, so that this ebullition could not have been the effect of any excess. The incident affords a striking proof how much a fault of manner may obscure and disparage high excellence of mind. Lord Mahon adds : ' It confirms Wolfe's own avowal, that he was not seen to advantage in the common occur- GENERAL WOLFE. JANUARY 2. GENEBAL WOLFE. reuces of life, and sliews how shyness may, at intervals, rush, as it were, for refuge, into the opposite extreme; but it should also lead us to view such defects of manner with indulgence, as proving that they may co-exist with the highest ability and the purest virtue.' The death of General AVolfe was a kind of military martyrdom. He had failed in several attempts against the French power in Canada, dreaded a court martial, and resolved by a bold and original stroke to justify the confidence of Pitt, or die. Thence the singularity of his move- ment to get upon the plain of Abram behind Quebec. The French came out of their fortress, fought him, and were beaten ; but a stray shot brought down the young hero in the moment of victory. The genius of West has depicted very successfully a scene whicli remains engraved in the national heart. Wolfe died on the 13th of September 1759, in the 3.3d year of his age. His body was brought to England, and interred at Greenwich. The want of a Life of General Wolfe, — a strange want, considering the glory which rests on the name, — has caused some points regarding liim to remain in doubt. It is doubtful, for example, if he was in service in the campaign of the Duke of Cumberland in the north of Scotland in 174*5. In Jacohlte Memoirs of the Rebellion of 1745-0, a collection of original papers edited by Mr THE DE-lTir OF GENEllAL WOLFE. (FKOM THE FAIXTIXG BY WEST.) Kobert Chambers in 1834, there are evidences of a gentleman's house at Aberdeen having been forcibly taken possession of by the Duke of Cumberland and General Ilawley ; who, not con- tent with leaving no recjuital behind them, took away many articles of value, which are afterwards found to have been sold in London. In this unplea- sant story, a' Major Wolfe,' described as aide-de- camp to Hawloy, figures as a bearer of rough mes- sages. A painful question arises, ' Could this be llie future hero of (Quebec? ' One fact is gratifying by contradiction, that this hero was not a major till 1749. Coidd it be his father? This is equally or more unlikelj', for he was then a brigadier- general. It is to be observed that James Wolfe, though only nineteen at this time, was a captain in Barren's regiment (having received that com- mission in June 1744), and Barrell's regiment, we know, stood in the left of the front line of the royal army at CuUoden : a mistake of major for captain is easily conceivable. In the hope of getting conclusive evidence that the admired Wolfe was not involved in the personal barbarisms of Cumberland and Hawley, the editor of the Jacohite ]\[cm<)ivs wrote to Mr Southey, who, ho understood, was prepared to compile a memoir of 37 GENEKAL "WOLFE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LORD CHANCELLOR ROSSLTK. General Wolfe from original materials ; and lie received the following answer : 'Kesivkk, Uth August, 1833. * Sir, — Immediately upon recei\dng yom* obliging letter, I referred to my own notes and extracts from the corresiiondcncc of Wolfe with his family, the whole of which has been in my possession. ' There I lind that his father was "with the Duke of Cumberland's army in 174.'), and that he himself was at Newcastle in the November of that year. His father was a general at that time ; and Wolfe, I think, was not yet a major (though I cannot immediately ascertain this), for he only received his lieutenant's* commission in June 1744. My present impression is that he was not in the Scotch campaign, and that the Major Wolfe of whom your papers speak must have been some other person. His earliest letter from Scotland is dated January 1749. ' Tlu-onghout his letters Wolfe ajipears to have been a considerate, kinddiearted man, as much distinguished from most of his coutemporaiy officers by humane and gentlemanly feeling as by the zeal with which he devoted himself to his profession. All that has hitherto been kno-\vu of him tends to confirm this view of his character. ' I am much obhged to you for your offer of the volume in which the paper is printed, and shall thank- fully receive it when it is published. Meantime, Sir, I have the honour to remain, &c. ' If, after all, there is nothing but character to plead against the conclusion that "Wolfe was the harsh message-bearer of the brutal Hawley, it is to be feared that the defence is a weak one. lu the ^ army which marched into -Scotland in 1746, aud put down the rebellion, there was a general indignation aud contempt for the Scottish nation, disposing men otherwise humane to take very harsh measures. The ordinary laws were trampled on ; worthy friends of the government, who pleaded for mercy to the vanquished, were treated with contumely; some of the English officers Avere guilty of extreme cruelty towards the Highland peasantry. No one is remembered with more horror for his savage doings than a certain Captain Caroline Scott ; and yet this is the same man whom Mallet introduces in his poem of the Wedding Day as a paragon of amiable- ness. The verses are as follows : ' A second see ! of special note. Plump Comus in a Colonel's coat ; Whom we this day expect from far, A jolly first-rate man of war ; On whom we boldly dare repose, To meet oiu- friends, or meet om- foes. ' To which the poet appends a prose note : 'The late Col. Caroline Scott, who, though ex- tremely corpiUent, was uncommoidy active ; and who, to much skill, sphit, aud bravery, as an ofBcer, joined tlie fjrealest gentleness of manners as a companion and friend. He died a saci-ifice to the public, in the service of the East India Comiwny, at Bengal, in the year 1755.' If the Caroline Scott who tortured the poor Highlanders was really this gentle-natured man, the future hero of Quebec can be imao-iued as carrj'ing rough messages to the lady at Aberdeen. 38 * Mistake for ' captain's.' In the National Portrait Gallery, Westminster, there is a bust portrait of General Wolfe, repre- senting him in profile, and with a boyish cast of countenance. OVID. Ovid died at about the age of sixty-one. We have only imperfect accounts of the Roman bards ; but we know pretty clearly that Ovid lived as a gay and luxu- rious gentleman in IJome through the greater part of the reign of Augustus, and when past fifty was banished by that emperor, probably in consequence of his concern in some scan- dalous amour of a fe- male member of theim- perial family. Let us think of what it would be for a darling of London society like the late Thomas Moore to have been condemned to spend his days at a fishing-village in Friesland or Lapland, and we shall have some idea of the pangs of the unfortunate Naso on taking up his forced abode at Tomi on the Black Sea. His epistles thence are full of complaints of the severity of the climate, the wildness of the scenery, and the savage nature of the surrounding people. How much we find expressed in that well-known line addressed to a book which he sent from Tomi to be published in Rome : — ' Sine me, liber, ibis in urbem !' Yet it appears that the iidmbitants appreciated his literary reputation, and treated him with due respect ; also that he tried to accom- modate himself" to his new circumstances by learning their language. Death brought the only true relief which he could experience, after he had endured his exile at least eight years. It is an interesting instance of the respect which bril- liant talents extort even from the rudest, that a local monument was reared to Ovid, and that Tomi is now called Ovidiopol, or Ovid's City. ' I have a veneration for Virgil,' says Dr King; ' I admire Horace ; but I love Ovid. . . . Neither of these great poets knew how to move the passions so well as Ovid ; witness some of the tales of his Metamorphoses, particularly the story of Ceyx and Haley one, whch I never read without weep- ing. No judicious critic hath ever yet denied that Ovid has more wit than any other poet of the Augustan age. That he has too much, and that his fancy is too luxuriant, is the fault generally imputed to him. All the imperfections of Ovid are really pleasing. But who would not excuse all his faults on accoimt of his many excellencies, particidarly his descriptions, which have never been equalled.' * LORD CHANCELLOR ROSSLYN. Alexander Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyu, Lord Chancellor of England from 1793 to 1801, entered in his youth at the Scottish bar, but had from * Political and Literary Anecdotes of his own Times, by Dr William King, Principal of St Mary Hall, Oxon. 1819, p. 30. LORD CHAXCELLOa EOSSLTN. JANUAEY 2. CAPTUEE OF GEANADA. the first an inclination to try the English, as a higher field of ambition. After going through the usual drudgeries of a young Scotch counsel for three years, he was determined into that career which ended in the English chancellorship by an accident. There flourished at that time at the northern bar a veteran advocate named Lock- hart, the Dean of the body, realising the highest income that had ever been known there, namely, a thousand a year, and only prevented from attaining the bench through the mean spite of the government, in consequence of his having gallantly gone to defend the otherwise helpless Scotch rebels at Carlisle in 1746.* Lockliart, with many merits, wanted that of a pleasant temper. He was habitually harsh and overbearing towards his juniors, four of whom (including Wed- derburn) at length agreed that, on the first occa- sion of his shewing any insolence towards one of them, he should publicly insult him, for which object it was highly convenient that the Dean had been once threatened with a caning, and that his wife did not bear a perfectly piu-e character. In the summer of 1757, Wedderburn chanced to be opposed to Lockhart, who, nettled probably by the cogency of his arguments, hesitated not to apply to him the appellation of ' a presumptuous boy.' The young advocate, rising afterwards to reply, poured out upon Lockhart a torrent of invective such as no one in that place had ever heard before. ' The learned Dean,' said he, ' has confined himself on this occasion to vituperation ; I do not say that he is capable of reasoning, but if tears would have answered his purpose, I am sure tears would not have been wanting.' Lock- hart started up and threatened him with ven- geance. ' I care little, my lords,' said "Wedder- burn, ' for what may be said or done by a man who has been disgraced in his person and dis- honoured in his bed.' The judges felt their flesh creep at the words, and Lord President Craigie could with difficulty summon energy to tell the young pleader that this was language unbecoming an advocate and unbecoming a gen- tleman. According to Lord Campbell, ' Wedder- bui"n, now in a state of such excitement as to have lost all sense of decorum and propriety, ex- clauned that " his lordship had said as a judge what he could not justify as a gentleman." The President appealed to his brethren as to what was fit to be done, who unanunously resolved that Mr TVedderbiirn should retract his words and make an humble apology, on pain of depri- vation. All of a sudden Wedderburn seemed to have subdued his passion, and put on an au* of deliberate coolness; when, instead of the expected retractation and apology, he stripped off his gown, and holding it in his hands before the judges, he said: "My lords, I neither retract nor apologise, but I wiU save you the trouble of deprivation ; there is my gown, and I will never wear it more ; virtute me involvo." He then coolly laid his gown upon the bar, made a low bow to the judges, and, before they had reco- * These particulars regarJing Lockhart are stated from the writer's recollection of a conversation in 1833 with Sir William Macleod Baniiatyne, who had entered at the Scotch bar exactly seventij years hefore, while Lock- hart was still flourishing. vered from their amazement, he left the court, which he never again entered.' * It is said that he started that very day for London, where, thirty-six years afterwards, he attained the highest place which it is in tlie power of a barrister to reach. It is generally stated that he never revisited his native country till near the close of his life, after ]iis resignation of the chancellorship. There is something spirited, and which one admires and sympathises with, in the fact of a retort and reproof administered by a young bar- rister to an elderly one presuming upon his ac- quired reputation to be insolent and oppressive ; but the violence of Wedderburn's language can- not be justified, and such merit as there was in the case one would have wished to see in connec- tion with a name more noted for the social virtues, and less for a selfish ambition, than that of Alexander Wedderburn. CAPTURE OF GRAN^iDA, 1492. The long resistance of the Moors to the Spanish troops of Eing Ferdinand and Isabella being at length overcome, arrangements were made for the surrender of their capital to the Spaniards. As the Bishop of AvUa passed in to take posses- sion of the Alhambra — the magnificent palace of the Moorish king — its former master mournfully passed out, saying only, ' Go in, and occupy the fortress which Allah has bestowed upon your powerful land, in pimishment of the sins of the Moors ! ' The Catholic sovereigns meanwhile waited in the vega below, to see the silver cross mounted on the tower of the Alhambra, the appointed symbol of possession. As it a^jpeared, a shout of joy rose from the assembled troops, and the choristers of the royal chapel broke forth with the anthem, Te Deum laudamus. BoabdU, king of the Moors, accompanied by about fifty horsemen, here met the Spanish sove- reigns, who generously refused to allow him to pay any outward homage to them, and delivered up to him, with expressions of kindness, his son who had been for some time in their hands as a hostage. Boabdil handed them the keys of the city, saying, ' Thine, O king, are our trophies, our kingdom, and our person ; such is the wUl of God ! ' After some further conversation, the Moorish king passed on in gloomy silence, to avoid witnessing the entrance of the Spaniards into the city. Coming at aboiit two leagues' distance to an elevated point, from which the last view of Granada was to be obtained, he could not restrain himself from turning round to take a parting look of that beautiful city which was lost to him and his for ever. ' God is great ! ' was all he could say; but a flood of tears burst from his eyes. His mother upbraided him for his softness ; but his vizier endeavoured to console him by remarking that even great misfortunes served to confer a certain distinction. 'Allah Achbar ! ' said he ; ' when did misfortunes ever equal mine ? ' ' From this circumstance,' says Mr Irving, in his Chronicle of the Conquest of Grranada, ' the hill, which is not far from Padul, took the name * Lives of the Chancellors. 39 EXECrTION OF JOHN OF LETDEN. THE BOOK OF DAYS. POPULAR NOTIONS. of Fez Allah Aclihar ; but tlic point of view commanding the last prospect of Granada is known among Spaniards by tlie na.me of El 'Ultimo sitspiro del AToro, or the Last Sigli of tlie Moor.' EXECUTION OF JOIIX OF LEYDEN, ' THE PROPHET.' 153G. It was in 1523 that tlio sect of the Anabaptists rose in Germany, so named because tliey wished that people should re-baptize their children, so as to imitate Jesus Christ, who had been baptized when grown up. Two fanatics named Storck and Muncer were the leaders of this sect, the most horrible that had ever desolated Germany. As Luther had raised princes, lords, and magis- trates against the Pope and the bishops, Muncer raised the peasants against the princes, lords, and magistrates. He and his disciples addressed themselves to the inhabitants of Swabia, Misnia, Thuringia, and Franconia, preaching to them the doctrine of an equality of conditions among men. Germany became the theatre of bloody doings. The peasantry rose in Saxony, even as far as iUsace ; they massacred all the gentlemen they met, including in the slaughter a daughter of the Emperor Jilaximilian I. ; they ravaged cveiy district to which they penetrated ; and it was ' not till after they had carried on these frightful proceedings for three years, that the regular troops got the better of them. Muncer, wiio had aimed at being a second Mahomet, perished on the scaffold at Mvilhausen. The chiefs, however, did not perish with him. The ])ea?ants Avere raised anew, and acquiring additional strength in Westphalia, they made themselves masters of the city of Munster, the bishop of which fled at their approach. They here endeavoured to establish a theocracy lihe that of the Jews, to be governed by God alone ; but one named Matthew their principal prophet being killed, a tailor lad, called John of Leydeu, assured them that God had appeared to him and named him king ; and Avhat he said the people believecL The pomp of his coronation was magnificent. One can yet see the money which he struck ; he took as his armorial bearings two swords placed the same way as the keys of the Pope. Monarch and prophet in one, he sent forth twelve apostles to announce his reign throughout all Low Germany. After the example of the Hebrew sovereigns, he wished to have a number of wives, and he espoused twelve at one time. One having spoken dis- respectfully of him, he cut off her head in the presence of the rest, who, whether from fear or fanaticism, danced with him round the dead body of their companion. This prophet-king had one virtue — courage. He defended Munster against its bishop with unfaltering resolution during a whole year. Kotwithstanding the extremities to Avliich he Avas reduced, he refused all offers of accommoda- tion. At length he was taken, with arms in his hands, through treason among his own people ; and the bishop, after causing him to be carried about for some time from place to place as a monster, consigned him to the death reserved for all kings of his order. 40 EXTRAORDINARY LIGHT. On the 2d of Janiiary 1756, at four in the afternoon, at Tuam, in Ireland, an unusual light, far above that of the brightest day, struck all the beholders with amazement. It then faded away by invisible degrees ; but at seven, from west to east, ' a sim of streamers ' appeared across the sky, undulating like the waters of a rippling stream. A general feeling of alarm was excited by this singular phenomenon. The streamers gradually became discoloured, and flashed away to the north, attended by a shock, which all felt, but which did no damage. — Gentleman s Magazine, xxvi. 39. The affair seems to have been an example of the aurora borealis, only singular in its being bright enough to tell upon the daylight. ^Infouubcb but |)crsc(jcnng |)opulm; |Jotlan.?. Under this head may be ranked a belief amongst book-collectors, that certain books of uncommon elegance were, by a peculiar dllet- tanteism of the typographer, printed from sdver types. In reality, types of silver would not print a book more elegantly than types of the usual composite metal. The absurdity of the idea is also shewn by the circumstances under which books are for the most j)art composed ; some one has asked, very pertinently, if a set of thirsty compositors would not have quickly dis- covered ' how many ems, long primer, would purchase a gallon of beer.' It is surmised that the notion took its rise in a mistake of silver for Jilzevi)- type, such being the term applied early in the last century to types of a small size, simi- lar to those which had been used in the cele- brated miniature editions of the Amsterdam printers, the Elzevirs.* Another of these popular notions has a respect- ability about it, because, though not true, it pro- , ceeds on a conception of what is just and fitting. It represents all persons who have ever had any- thing to do with the invention or improvement of instruments of death, as suffering by them, gene- rally as the first to suffer by them. Many cases are cited, but on strict examination scarcely one would be found to be true. It has been asserted, for example, that Dr Guillotin of Paris, who caused the introduction into France of the Instru- ment bearing his name, was himself the first of its many victims ; whereas he in reality outlived the Eevolutlon, and died peaceably in ISl-i. Nor Is it irrelevant to keep in mind regarding Guillotin, that he was a man of gentle and amiable character, and proposed this instrument for execution as cal- culated to lessen the sufferings of criminals. So has it been said that the Ilegent Morton of Scot- land introduced the similar instrument called the Maiden into his country, having adopted it from an instrument for beheading which long stood la terror of the wicked at one of the gates of the town of Halifax in Yorkshire. But it is ascer- tained that, whether Morton introduced it or not — and there is no proof that he did — it was in operation at Edinburgh some years before his death ; first under the name of the Maiden, and afterwards under that of the Widow — a change * Notes and Queries, Mar. 16, ISGl. POPULlll NOTIONS. JANUAEY 2. UNLUCKY DAYS. of appellation to wliich it would be entitled after the death, of its first bridegroom. It has likewise been represented that the drcqi used in hancjing was an improvement effected by an eminent joiner and town-councillor of nulin- burgh, the famous Deacon Brodie, and that when he was hanged in October 1788 for housebreak- ing, he was the first to put the utility of the plan to the proof. But it is quite certain that, whe- ther Brodie made this improvement or not, he was not the first person to test its serviceable- ness, as it appears to have been in operation at least three years before his death. * Even his title to the improvement must be denied, except, jjerhaps, as far as regards the introduction of it into practice in Edinburgh, as some such contri- vance was used at the execution of Earl Ferrei's in 1760, being part of a scaffold which the family of the unfortunate nobleman caused their under- taker to prepare on that occasion, that his lord- ship might not swing ofl" from a cart like a ])lebeian culprit. ' There was,' says Horace AValpole, ' a new contrivance for sinking the stage under him, which did not play well ; and he suffered a little by the delaj-, but was dead in four minutes.' It is much to be feared that there is no belief of any kind more extensively diffused in England, or more heartily entertained, than that which represents a Queen Anne's farthing as the greatest and most valuable of rarities. The story every- where told and accepted is, that only three far- things were struck in her reign : that two are in public keeping ; and that the third is still going about, and if it could be recovered would bring a prodigious price. In point of fact, there were eight coinings of farthings in the reign of Queen Anne, besides a medal or token of similar size, and these coins are no greater rarities than any other product of the Mint issued a hundred and fifty years ago. Every now and then a poor person comes up from a remote place in the country to London, to sell ilie Queeu Anne's farthing, of which he has become the fortunate possessor ; and great, of course, is the disappointment when the numis- matist offers him perhaps a shilling for the curio- sity, justifying the lowness of the price by pulling out a drawer and shewing him eight or ten other examples of the same coin. On one occasion, a laI)ourer and his wife came all the way from York- shire on foot to dispose of one of these provoking coins in the metropolis. It is related that a rural publican, having obtained one of the tokens, put it up in his Avindow as a curiosity, and people came from far and near to see it, doubtless not a little to the alleviation of his beer barrels; nor did a statement of its real value by a numismatist, wl,o happened to come to his house, induce him to put it away. About 1814, a confectioner's shopman in Dublin, having taken a Queen Anne's farthing, substituted an ordinary farthing for it in his master's till, and endeavoured to make a good thing for himself by selling it to the best advantage. The master, hearing of the trans- * Tlie f>cots Jfai/adne, in relating the execution of one William Mills for liousebreaking, 21st Seotember 178:), says, that ' pnvt of the platform on which he stood dropped a few minutes before three.' action, had the man apprehended and tried in the Recorder's Court, when he was actually con- demned to a twelvemonth's imprisonment for the offence. Numismatists have set forth, as a possible reason for the universalbeliefin the rarity of Queen Anne's farthings, that there are several imttcni-pieces of farthings of her reign in silver, and of beauti- ful execution, by Croker, which are rare and in request. But it is very unlikely that the appre- ciation of such an article amongst men of verta would ever impress the bulk of the people in such a manner or to such results. A more plau- sible story is, that a lady in the north of England, having lost a Queen Anne's farthing or pattern- piece, which she valued as a keepsake, advertised a reward for its recovery. In that case, the popular imagination would easUy devise the remainder of the tale. That pecidiar phase of superstition which has regard to lucky or unlucky, good or evil days, is to be found in all ages and climes, wherever the mystery-man of a tribe, or the sacerdotal caste of a nation, has acquired rule or authoritj- over the minds of the people. All over the East, among the populations of antiquity, are to be found traces of this almost universal worship of Luck. It is one form of that culture of the beneficent and the maleficent principles, which marks the belief in good and evil, as an antagonistic duality of gods. From ancient Egypt the evil or unlucky days have received the name of ' Egyptian days".' Nor is it only in pagan, but in Christian times, that this superstition has held its potent sway. No season of year, no month, no week, is free from those untoward days on which it is danger- ous, if not fatal, to begin any enterprise, work, or travel. They begin with New- Year's Day, and they only end with the last day of December. Passing over the heathen augurs, who predicted fortu- nate days for sacrifice or trade, wedding or war, let us see what our Anglo-Saxon forefathers believed in this matter of days. A Saxon MS. {Cott. MS. Vitell, C. viii. fo. 20) gives the follow- ing account of these Dies Mali : — ' Three days there are in the year, which we call Egyptian days ; that is, in our language, dangerous days, on any occasion Avhatever, to the blood of man or beast. In the month which we call April, the last Monday ; and then is the second, at the coming in of the month we call August ; then is the third, which is the first Slonday of the going out* of the mouth of December. He who on these three days reduces blood, be it of man, be it of beast, this we have heard say, that speedily on the first or seventh day, his life he will end. Or if his life be longer, so that he come not to the seventh day, or if he drink some time in these three days, he will end his life ; and he that tastes of goose-flesh, within forty days' space his life he will end.' In the ancient Exeter Xalendar, a MS. said to * Tlie coming in of a month consisted of the first 15 days in the month (or 16 if it had .31 days); the going out, of the last 15 days of any month. 41 UNLUCET DAYS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. STE GENEVIEVE. be of ihe age of Henry II., the first or Kalcuds of January is set down as ' Dies Mala.' Tkcse Saxon Kalendars give us a total of about 21 evil days in the 305 ;"or about one such in every fifteen. But the sujierstition ' lengthened its eords and strengthened its stakes ; ' it seems to have been felt or feared that the black days had but too small a hold on their regnrders ; so they Avere multiplied. 'Astronomers say that six days of the year are perilous of death ; and therefore they forbitl men to lot blood on theTU, or take any drink ; that is to say, January 3, July 1, October 2, the last of April, August 1, the last day going out of December. These six days Anth great diligence ought to be kept, but n.aniely [mainly ?] the latter three, for all the veins are then full. For then, whether man or beast bo kuit in them within 7 days, or certainly within 14 days, he shall die. And if they take any diinks A\-ithin 15 days, they sliall die ; and if they eat any goose in these 3 daj^s, withi^ 40 days they shall die ; and if any child be born in these 3 Latter days, they shall the a wicked death. Astronomers and astrologers say that in the beginning of March, the seventh night, or the fomtcenth daj^, let the blood of the right arm ; and in the beginning of April, the 11th day, of the left arm ; and in the end of May, 3d or 5th day, on whether aim thou wilt ; and thus, of all the year, thou shalt orderly be kept from the fever, the falling gout, the sister gout, and loss of thy sight.' — Booh of Knowledge, h. 1. p. 19, Those who may be inclined to pursue this subject more fully, will find an essay ou ' Day- Fatality, ' in John Aubrey's Miscellanies, in which he notes the days lucky and unlucky, of the Jews, Greeks, Eomans, and of various distin- guished individuals of later times. In a comparatively modern MS. Kalendar, of the time of Henry Yl., in the writer's possession, one page of vellum is filled with the following, of which we modernise the spelling : — ' These imderA\Titten be the perilous days, for to take any sickness in, or to be hurt in, or to be wedded in, or to take any jom-uey U2:)on, or to begin any work on, that he wordd Avell speed. The number of these days be in the year 32 ; they be these :— In January there be 7 :— 1st, 2d, 4th, 5th, 7th, lOth, and 15th. In February be 3 :— 6th, 7th, and 18th. In March be 3 :— 1st, 6th, and Sth. In April be 2 :— 6th and 11th. In jSIay be 3 :— 5th, 6th, and 7th. In June be 2 : — 7th and loth. In Jidy be 2 :— 5th and 19th. In August be 2 :— 15th and 19th. In September be 2 : — 6th and 7th. In October is 1 : — 6th. In November be 2 : — 15th and 16th. In December be 3 :— 15th, 16th, aod 17th.' The copyist of this dread list of evil days, m hile apparently giving the superstition a qualified credence, manifests a higher and nobler faith, liftmg his aspiration above days and seasons ; for he has appended to the catalogue, in a bold firm hancl of the time—' Sed tamen in Domino con- fido.' (But, notwithstanding, I will trust in the Lord.) IM'either in this Kalendar, nor in another of the same owner, prefixed to a small MS. volume contaming a copy of Magna Charta, &c., is there inserted in the body of the Kalendar anvthin"- to 42 denote a ' Dies Mala.' After the Eeformation, the old evil days appear to have abated much of the ancient malevolent influences, and to have left behind them only a general superstition against fishermen setting out to fish, or seamen to take a voyage, or landsmen a journey, or domestic servants to enter on a new place — on a Friday. In many country districts, especially in the north of England, no weddings take place ou Friday, from this cause. According to a rhyming proverb, ' Friday's moon, come when it will, comes too soon.' Sir Thomas Overbury, in his charming sketch of a milkmaid, says, 'Her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell them ; only a Friday's dream is all her super- stition ; and she consents for fear of anger.' Erasmus dwells on the ' extraordinary inconsis- tency' of the English of his day, in eating flesh in Lent, yet holding it a heinous ofience to eat any on a Friday out of Lent. The Friday su- perstitions cannot be wholly explained by the fact that it was ordained to be held as a fast by the Christians of Eomc. Some portion of its maleficent character is probably due to the character of the Scandinavian Venus Freya, the Avife of Odin, and goddess of fecundity. But we are met on the other hand by the fact that amongst the Brahmins of India a like super- stitious aversion to Friday prevails. They say that ' on this clay no business must be com- menced.' * And herein is the fate foreshadowed of any antiquary who seeks to trace one of our still lingering superstitions to its source. Like the bewildered traveller at the cross roads, he knows not which to take. One leads him into the ancient Teuton forests ; a second amongst the wilds of Scandinavia ; a third to papal, and thence to pagan liome ; and a fourth carries him to the far east, and there he is left with the conviction that much of what is old and quaint and strange among us, of the superstitious relics of our fore- elders, has its root deej) in the soil of one of the ancient homes of the race. JANUARY 3. St Peter Balsam, martj'r, 311 ; St Anterus,' pope, 235 j St Gordius, martyr ; Ste GeneviJive, ■virgin, STE GENEVIEVE. Sainte Genevieve, who has occupied, from the time of her death to the present clay, the distin- guished position of Patroness Saint of the city of Paris, lived in the fifth century, when Christi- anity, under corrupted forms, was contending with paganism for domination over the minds of rude and warlike races of men. Credible facts of this early period are few, obscure, and not easily separated from the fictions with which they have been combined ; but the following princix^al events of the life of Ste Gienevieve may be taken as probably authentic : — She was born in the year 422, at Nanterre, a village about four miles from Paris. At the early age of seven, years she was consecrated to the service of re- ligion by St Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, who happened to pass through the village, and was * Dr Buchanan, Asiat. Res., vol. vi. p. 172. MAECUS TULLIUS CICEBO. JANUARY 3. GENEBAL MONK. struck with lier devotioual manners. At the age of fifteen years slie received the veil from the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, in which city she afterwards resided. By strict observance of the services of the Church, and by the practice of those austerities which were then regarded as the surest means of obtaining the blessedness of a future state, she acquired a reputation for sanctity which gave her considerable influence over the rulers and leaders of the people. AVhen the Franks under Clovis had subdued the city of Paris, her solicitations are said to have moved t]ie conqueror to acts of clemency and generosity. The miracles ascribed to Ste Genevieve may be passed over as hardly likely to obtain much credence in the present age. The date of her death has been fixed on January 3d, 512, five months after the decease of king Clovis. She was buried near him in the church of St Peter and St Paul, since named the church of Saiute Genevieve. The present handsome structure was completed in 1764. During the revolution- ary period it was withdrawn from the services of religion, and named the Pantheon, but has since been restored to ecclesiastical uses and to its former name of Sainte Genevieve. Details of her life are given inBollandus's 'Acta Sanctorum,' and in Butler's ' Lives of the Saints.' Born. — Marcus Tullius Cicero, B.C. 107; Douglas Jcriold, 1803. Bied. — Jeremiah Horrox, mathematician, 1641 ; George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, 1670; Josiah Wedgwood, 1795 ; Charles Robert Maturin, novelist, 1842 ; Eliot Warburton, historical novelist, 1852. MARCUS TULLirS CICERO. Cicero, like nearly every other great man, gives in his life a testimony to the value and necessity of diligent culture of the mind for the attainment of eminence. His education for oratory was most laborious. He himself declared that no man ought to pretend to the character of an orator with- out being previously acquainted with everj'thing worth knowing in nature and art, as eloquence unbased upon knowledge is no better than the prattle of a child. He was six-aud-tweuty before he considered himself properly accomplished for his profession. ' He had learned the rudiments of grammar and languages from the ablest teachers ; gone through the stiidies of humanity and the politer letters with the poet Archias ; been in- structed in philosophy hj the principal professors of each sect — Ph?edrus the Epicurean, Philo the Academic, andDiodotus the Stoic; acquired a per- fectknowledgeof the lawfrom the greatest lawyers as well as the greatest statesmen of Eome, the two Sccevolas ; aU which accomplishments were but ministerial and subservient to that on which his hopes and ambition were singly placed, the reputation of an orator. To qualify himself there- fore for this, lie attended the pleadings of all the speakers of his time ; heard the daily lectures of the most eminent orators of Greece, and was perpetually composing somewhat at home, and do- claiming under their correction; and, that he might neglect nothing which might in any degree help to improve and polish his style, he spent the inter- vals of Ms leisure in the company of the ladies ; especially of those who were remarkable for a politeness of language, and whose fatliers had been distinguished by a fame and reputation for elo- quence. While he studied the law, therefore, under Sca;vola the augur, he frequently conversed with his wife Lselia, whose discourse, he says, was tinctured with all the elegance of her father Ljelius, the politest speaker of his age : he was acquainted likewise with her daughter Mucia, who married the great orator Lucius Crassus ; and with her granddaughters the two Liciniaj, .... who all excelled in that delicacy of the Latin tongue which was peculiar to their families, and valued themselves on preserving and propa- gating it to their posterity.' — Meknoth's LiJ'e of Cicero. GENERAL MONK. The most curious portion of Monk's private history is his marriage to Anne, daughter of John Clarges, a farrier in the Savoy in the Strand. She Avas fii'st married to Thomas lladford, late farrier : they lived at the Three Spanish Gip- sies in the New Exchange, Strand, and sold wash-balls, powder, gloves, &c., and she taught plain work to girls. In 1647 she became semp- stress to Monk, and used to carry him linen. In 1649 she and her husband fell out and parted; but no certificate of any parish-register appears recording his burial. In 1652 she was married at the Church of St George, Southwai-k, to General Monk, though it is said her first husband was living at the time. In the following year she was delivered of a son, Christopher, who ' was suckled by Honour Mills, who sold apples, herbs, oysters, &e.' The father of '' Nan Clarges,' according to Aubrey's Lives (written about 1680), had his forge upon the site of No. 317, on the north side of the Strand. ' The shop is still of that trade,' says Aubrey ; ' the coimer shop, the first turning, on y= right hand, as you come ou.t the Strand into Drury Lane : the house is now built of brick.' The house alluded to is believed to be that at the right-hand corner of Drury Court, now a butcher's. The adjoining house, in the coui't, is now a whitesmith's, with a forge, &c. Nan's mother was one of Five Women Barbers, celebrated in her time. Nan is desciibed by Clarendon as a person ' of the lowest extrac- tion, without either wit or beauty ; ' and Aubrey says ' she was not at all handsome nor cleanl}-,' and that she was seamstress to Monk, when he was imprisoned in the Tower. She is known to have had great control and authority over him. Upon his being raised to a dukedom, and her becoming Duchess of Albemarle, her father, the farrier, is said to have raised a Maypole in the Strand, nearly opposite his forge, to commemorate his daughter's good fortune. She died a few days after the Duke, and is interred by his side in Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Westminster xibbey. The Duke was succeeded by his son, Christopher, who married Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, graud- daugliter of the Duke of Newcastle, and died chiklless. The Duchess' brother, Thomas Clar- ges, was a pliysician of note ; was created a baronet in 1674, and was ancestor to the baronets; whence is named Clarges Street, Piccadilly. 43 JOSI.VH AVFPGWOOn. THE book: of days. DOUGLAS JEEHOLD. JDSIAH "WKlKiWOOD. Josiali AYodi;\vooi.l, celebrated for lus valuable improvements in the manufacture of earthenware, ■was born July 1-th 1730. at 13urslem. in Stafford- shire, where "his father and others of the family had for many years been employed in the potteries. At the early age of eleven years, his father being tluMi dead, he worked as a thrower iu a pottery belonging to his elder brother; and he continued to be thus employed till disease in his right leg JOSIAII WEDGWOOD. compelled him to relintjuish the potter's wheel, and ultimately to have the limb cut off' below the knee. He then began to occupy himself in making imitations of agates, jaspers, and other coloured stones, by combining metallic oxides with different clays, which he formed into kuife- handles. small boxes, and ornaments for the mantelpiece. After various movements in busi- ness, he finally settled in a pottery of his own, at Burslem, where he continued for a time to make the small ornamental articles which had first brought him into notice, but by degrees began to manufacture fine earthenware for the table. He was successful, and took a second manufactorj', where he made white stoneware ; and then a third, where he produced a deli- cate cream-coloured ware, of which he pre- sented some articles to Queen Charlotte, who was so well pleased with them and with a com- plete service which he executed by order, that she appointed him her potter. The new kind of earthenware, under the name of Queen's ware, became fashionable, and orders from the nobility and gentry flowed in upon him. He took into partnership Mr Bentley, son of the celebrated -Dr Bentley, and opened a warehouse in London, where the goods were exhibited and sold. Mr Bentley, who was a man of learning and taste, and had a large circle of acquaintance among men of rank and science, superintended the busi- ness in the metropolis. Wedgwood's operations in earthenware and stoneware included the pro- duction of various articles of ornament for the cabinet, the drawing-room, and the boudoir. To facilitate the conveyance of his goods, as well as of materials required for the manufacture, he contributed a large sum towards the formation of the Trent and Mersey Canal, which was com- pleted in 1770. On the bank of this canal, 41 while it was in progress, he erected, near Stoke, a large manufactory and a handsome man- sion for his own residence, and there he built the village of Etruria, consisting chiefly of the habitations of his workmen. He died there on the 3d of January 1795, in the 65th year of his age. He was married, and had several children. To Wedgwood originally, and to him almost exclusively during a period of more than thirty years. Great Britain was indebted for the rapid improvement and vast extension of the earthen- ware manufacture. During the early part of his life England produced only brown pottery and common articles of white earthenware for domestic use. The finer wares for the opulent classes of society, as well as porcelain, were im- ported from Holland, Germany, and France. He did not extend his operations to the manufacture of porcelain — the kaolin, or china-cla}% not hav- ing been discovered in Cornwall till he w^as far advanced in life; but his earthenwares were of such excellence in quality, in form, and in beauty of ornamentation, as in a great degree to super- sede the foreign china-wares, not only in this country, but in the markets of the civilised world. "W^edgwood's success was the result of experiments and trials, conducted with perse- vering industry on scientific principles. He studied the chemistry of the aluminous, silicious, and alkaline earths, colouring substances, and glazes, which he employed. He engaged the most skilful artisans and artists, and superin- tended assiduously the operations of the work- sho]) and the kiln. In order to ascertain and regu- late the heat of his furnaces, he invented a pyro- meter, by which the higher degrees of temperature might be accurately measured : it consisted of small cylinders of pure white clay, with an apparatus which showed the degrees of diminu- tion in length which the cylinders underwent from the action of the fire. Besides the manu- facture of the superior kinds of earthenware for the table and domestic jnirposes, he produced a great variety of works of fine art, such as imi- tations of cameos, intaglios, and other antique gems, vases, urns, busts, medallions, and other objects of curiosity and beauty. His imitations of the Etruscan vases gained him great celebrity, and were purchased largely. He also executeil fifty copies of the Portland vase, which were sold for fifty guineas each. DOUGLAS JERROLD. No one that has seen Douglas Jerrold can ever forget him— -a tiny round-shouldered man, with a pale aquiline visage, keen bright grey eyes, and a profusion of iron-brown hair ; usually rather taciturn (though with a never-ceasing play of eye and lips) till an opportunity occurred for shooting forth one of those flashes of viit which made him the conversational chief of his da3\ The son of a poor manager haunting Sheerness, Jeri'old owed little to education or early connec- tion. He entered life as a midshipman, but early gravitated into a London literary career. His first productions were plays, whereof one, based on the ballad of ' Black-eyed Susan ' (written when the author was scarce twenty), obtained such success as redeemed theatres and made DOUGLAS JEKEOLD. JANUAEY 3. DOUGLAS JEEECLD, theatrical reputations, and yet Jerrold never real- ised from it above seventy pounds. He also wrote novels, but his cliief ^jroductlons wei-e contributions to periodicals. In this walk he had for a loni^ course of years no superior. His ' Candle Lectures,' contributed to Punch, were perliaps the most attractive series of articles that ever appeared in any periodical work. DOUGLAS JERROLD. The drollery of liis writings, though acknow- ledged to be great, would not perhaps have made Douglas Jerrold the remarkable power he was, if he had not also possessed such a singular strain of colloquial repartee. In his day, no man in the metropolis was one half so noted for the brilliancy and originality of his sayings. Jerrold's wit proved itself to be, unlike Sheridan's, unpremedi- tated, for his best sayings were answers to re- marks of others ; often, indeed, they consisted of clauses or single words deriving their signiiieancy from their connection with what another person had said. Seldom or never did it consist of a pun or quibble. Generally, it derived its value from the sense lying under it. Always sharp, often caustic, it was never morose or truly ill-natured. Jerrold was, in reality, a kind-hearted man, full of feeling and tenderness ; and of true goodness and worth, talent and accomplishment, he was ever the hearty admirer. Specimens of conversational wit apart from the circumstances Avhich produced them, are mani- festly placed at a great disadvantage ; yet some of .Jerrold's good things bear repetition in print. Ilis definition of dogmatism as 'puppyism come to maturity,' might be printed by itself in large type and put upon a church-door, without suffer- ing any loss of point. What he said on passing the flamiiigly uxorious epitaph put up by a famous cook on his wife's tomb — ' Mock Turtle ! ' — might equally have been placed on the tomb itself with perfect preservation of its poignancy. Similarly independent of all external aid is the keenness of his answer to a fussy clergyman, who was ex- pressing opinions very revolting to Jerrold, — to the effect that the real evil of modern times was the surplus population — ' Yes, the surplice popu- lation.' It is related that a prosy old gentleman, meeting him as he was passing at his usual quick pace along llegeut Street, poised himself into an attitude, and began : ' Well, Jerrold, my dear boy, what is going on ? ' 'I am,' said the wit, instantly shooting off. Such is an example of the brief fragmentary character of the ^\ it of Jerrold. On another occasion it consisted of but a mono- syllable. It was at a dinner of artists, that a barrister present, having his health drunk in connection with the law, began an embarrassed answer by saying he did not see how the law coidd be considered as one of the arts, when Jerrold jerked in the word ' black,' and threw the company into convulsions. A bore in company remarking how charmed he was with the Prodir/ue, and that there was one particular song which always quite carried him away, — ' Would that I could sing it ! ' ejaculated the wit. What a profound rebuke to the inner conscious- ness school of modern poets there is in a little occui'reuce of Jerrold's life connected with a volume of the writings of Eobert Browning ! When recovering from a violent fit of sickness, he had been ordered to refrain from all reading and writing, which he had obeyed wonderfully well, although he found the monotony of a seaside life very trying to his active mind. One mbrning ho had been left by Mrs Jerrold alone, while she had gone shopping, and during her absence a parcel of books from London arrived. Among them was Browning's ' Sordello,' which he commenced to read. Line after line, and page after l^age was devoured by the convalescent wit, but not a consecutive idea could he get from that mystic production. The thought then struck him that he had lost his reason during his illness, and that he was so imbecile that he did not know it. A perspiration burst from his brow, and he sat silent and thoughtful. When his wife returned, he thrust the mysterious vohune into her hands, crying out, ' Eead this, my dear ! ' After several attempts to make any sense out of the first page or so, she returned it, saying, ' Bother the gibber- ish ! I don't understand a word of it ! ' ' Thank Heaven,' cried the delighted wit ; ' then 1 am not an idiot ! ' His Avinding up a review of Wordsworth's poems was equally good. ' He reminds me," said Jerrold, ' of the Beadle of Parnassus, strut- ting about in a cocked hat, or, to be more poetical, of a modern Moses, who sits on Pisgah Avith his back obstinately turned to that promised laud the Future ; he is only fit for those old maid tabbies, the Muses! His Pegasus is a broken- winded hack, with a grammatical bridle, and a monosyllabic bit between his teeth ! ' Mr J31anchard Jerrold, in his Life of his father, groups a few additional good things which will not here be considered superfluous. ' A dinner is discussed. Douglas Jerrold listens quietly, possibly tired of dinners, and declining pressing invitations to be present. In a few minutes he will chime in, " If an earthquake were to engulf England to-morrow, the English would manage to meet and dine somewhere among the rubbish, just to celebrate the event." A friend drops in, and walks across the smoking-room to Douglas 45 DOUGLAS JEKEOLD. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE HOBN BOOK. Jen-old's cliair. The friend -svants to rouse Mr Jerrold's sympathies in behalf of a mutual ac- quaintaneo' Avho is in -want of a round sum of money. But this mutual friend has already sent his hat about among his literary brethren on more than one occasion. Mr 's hat is becoming an institution, and friends -were grieved at the indelicacy of the ijrocceding. On the occasion to which I now rotcr, the bearer of the hat was received by my father with evident dis- satisfaction. " Well," said Douglas Jerrold, "how much does want this time ? " " Why, iust a four and two noughts will, I thinlc, put liim straight." the bearei* of the hat replied. Jcrrohl — " Well, put me down for one of the noughts." '"The Chain of Events," playing at the "Lyceiun Theatre, is mentioned. " Humph ! " says "Douglas Jerrold. " I'm afraid the man- ager will llnd it a door chain, strong enough to Iceep everybody out of the house." Then some somewhat lackadaisical yovmg members drop in. They assimie that the Club is not sufficiently west; they hiut at something near Pall-]\rall and a little more style. Douglas Jerrold rebukes them. " No, no, gentlemen^; not near Pall-Mall: we might catch coronets." A stormy discussion ensues, during which a gentleman rises to settle the matter in dis- pute. AVaving his hands majestically over the excited disputants, he begins : " Gentlemen, all I want is common sense." " Exactly," says Douglas Jerrold, "that is precisely what you do want." The discussion is lost in a burst of laughter. The talk lightly passes to the ■wi-itings of a certain Scot. A member holds that the Scot's name should be handed down to a grateful posterity. Douglas Jerrold — " I quite agree with you that he should have an itch in the Temple of Fame." Brown drops in. Brown is said by all his friends to be the toady of Jones. The assurance of Jones in a room is the proof that Brown is in the passage. When Jones has the influenza, Brown dutifully catches a cold in the head. Douglas Jerrold to Brown — "■ Have you heard the rumour that's flying about town ? " " No." " Well, they say Jones pays the dog-tax for you." Douglas Jerrold is seriously disappointed with a certain book written by one of his friends, and has expressed his disappointment. Friend — " I have heard you said was the worst book I ever wrote." Jerrold — !' No, I didn't. I said it was the worst book anybody ever wrote." A supper of sheep's-heads is pi'oposed, and pre- sently served. One gentleman present is particu- larly enthusiastic on the excellence of the dish, and, as he throws down his knife and fork, exclaims, "Well, sheep's-head for ever, say I ! " Jerrold. — " There's egotism ! " ' It is worth while to note the succession of the prime jokers of London before Jerrold. The series begins Avith King Charles II., to whom succeeded the Earl of Dorset, after whom came the Earl pi Chesterfield, who left his mantle to George Selwj^n, whose successor was a man he detested, Bichard Brinsley Sheridan ; after whom was Jekyl, then Theodore Hook, whose successor was Jerrold : eight in all during a term of nearly two hundred years. 46 INTRODUCTION OF FEMALE ACTORS. Pepys relates, in that singular chi'onicle of gossip, his Diary, iinder January 3, 1661, that he went to the theatre and saw the Beggar s Bush well performed ; ' the first time,' says he, ' that ever I saw women come lypon the stage.' This was a theatre in Gibbon's Tennis Court, A^'cre Street, Clare Market, which had been opened at the recent restoration of the monarchy, after the long theatrical blank under the reign of the Puritans. It had heretofore been customary for young men to act the female parts. All Shakspeare's heroines were thus awkwardly enacted for the first sixty years. At length, on the restoration of the stage, it was thought that the public might perhaps endure the indecorum of female acting, and the venture is believed to have been first made at this theatre on the 8th of December 1660, when a lady acted Desdemona for the first time. CoUey Gibber gives a comic traditional story regarding the time when this fashion was coming in. ' Though women,' says he, ' were not ad- mitted to the stage tiU the return of King Charles, yet it could not be so suddenly supplied with them, but that there was still a necessity, for some time, to put the handsomest young men into petticoats, which Kyuaston was said to have then worn with success ; particularly in the part of Evadne in the Maid's Tragedi], which I have heard him speak of, and which calls to my mind a ridiculous distress that arose from that sort of shifts which the stage was then put to. The king, coming before his usual time to a tragedy, found the actors not ready to begin ; when his Majesty, not choosing to have as much patience as ills good subjects, sent to them to know the meaning of it ; upon which the master of the company came to the box, and rightly judging that the best excuse for their default would be the true one, fairly told his Majesty that the queen was not shaved yet. The king, whose good humour loved to laugh at a jest as well as make one, accepted the excuse, which served to divert him till the male queen could be efienii- nated. Kynaston was at that time so beautiful a youth, that the ladies of quality prided them- selves in taking him with them in their coaches to Hyde Park in his theatrical habit, after the play, which in those days they might have suffi- cient time to do, becau.se plays then were used to begin at four o'clock.' * iljc porn §ooli. In the manuscript account books of the Archer family, quoted by Mr HaUiwell in his elaborate notes on Shakspeare, occurs this entry : 'Jan. 8, 1715-16, one horn-book for Mr Eyres, 00 : 00 : 02.' The article referred to as thus purchased at two- pence Avas one once most familiar, but now known only as a piece of antiquity, and that rather obscurely. The remark has been very justly made, that many books, at one time enjoying a more than usually great circulation, are precisely those likely to become the scarcest in a succeed- * Gibber's Apology for his Oion Life. THE HORN BOOK. JANUAHY 3. MIGEATOEY BOGS. ing age ; for example, nearly all sehool-boolcs, and. aboye all, a Horn-Book. Down to the time of George II., there was perhaps no kind of book so largely and universally difiused as this said horn-book ; at present, there is perhaps no book of that reign, of which it would be more difficult to procure a copy. The annexed representation is copied from one given by Mr Halliwell, as taken from a black- letter example which was found some years ago in pulling down an old farm-house at Middleton, in Derbyshire. A portrait of King Charles I. in armour on horseback was upon the reverse, affording us an approximation to the date. t.T, be tf bo bt.v fou,<:;li separated by a large and deep iViteli. The motion eontiuued a con- siderable time, and the surface rose into undu- lations, but without bursting up or breaking-. Tlie ^>asturo-laud rose very high, and was urged on with tlie same motion, till it rested upon a neighbouring meadow, the whole surface of which it covered to a depth of sixteen feet. The site wliich the bog had occupied was left full of unsightly lioles, containing foul water giving forth slinking vapours. It was pretty well ascer- tained that this catastrophe was occasioned by long-continued rain — not by softening the bog ou which it fell, but by getting under it, and so causing it to slide away. England, though it has abundance of fenny or marshy land in tlie counties lying west and south of the "Wash, has very few such bogs as those which cover nearly three million acres of land in Ireland. There arc some spots, however, such as Chat Moss in Lancashire, which belong to this character. Leland, who wrote in the time of Ueury the Eighth, described, in his quaint way, an outflow of this moss : ' Chat Moss brast up within a mile of Mosley Haul, and destroied much grounde with mosse thereabout, and de- stroied much fresh-water fishche thereabout, first corrupting with stinkinge water Glasebrooke, and so Glasebrooke carried stinkinge water and mosse into Mersey water, and Mersey corrupted carried the roulliug mosse, part to the shores of AVales, part to the isle of Man, and some unto Ireland. And in the very top of Chateley More, where the mosse was hj-est and brake, is now a fair plainc valley as ever in tymes paste, and a rylle nmnith int, and peaces of small trees be found in the bottom.' Let it be remembered that this is the same Chat Moss over which the daring but yet calculating genius of George Stephenson carried a railway. It is amusing now to look back at the evidence given, thirty -five years ago, before the Parliamentary Committee on the Liverpool and Manchester Eailway. Engineers of some eminence vehemently denied the possibility of achieving the work. One of them said that no vehicle could stand on the Moss short of the bottom ; that the whole must be scooped out, to the depth of thirty or forty feet, and an equivalent of hard earth filled in ; and that even if a railway could bo formed on the Moss, it would cost £200,000. Nevertheless Stephenson did it, and expended only £30,000 ; and there is the railway, sound to the present hour. The moss, over an area of nearly twelve square miles, is so soft as to yield to the foot ; while some parts of it arc a pulpy mass. Stephenson threw down thousands of cubic yards of firm earth, which gradually sank, and solidified sufficiently to form his railway upon; hurdles of heath and brushwood were laid upon the surface, and on these the wooden sleepers. There is still a gentle kind of undula- tion, as if the railway rested on a semi-fluid mass; nevertheless it is quite secure. Scotland has many more bogs and peat-mosses than England. They are found chiefly in low districts, but sometimes even on the tops of the mountains. Mr Eobert Chambers gives an 48 ^ account of an outburst which took place in 1629: ' In the fertile district between Falkirk and Stir- ling, there was a large moss with a little lake in the middle of it, occupying a piece of gradually- rising ground. A highly-cultivated district of wheat-land lay below. There had been a series of heavy rains, and the moss became overcharged M-ith moisture. After some days, during which slight movements were visible on this quagmire, the whole nuiss began one night to leave its native situation, and slide gently down to the low grounds. The people who lived on these lands^ receiving sulUcient Avarning, fled and saved their lives ; but in the morning light they beheld their little farms, sixteen in number, covered six feet deep with liquid moss, and hopelessly lost.' — Domestic Annals of Scotland, ii. 35. Somewhat akin to this was the flowing moss described by Pennant. It was on the Scottish border, near the shore of the Solway. When he passed the spot during his First Journey to Scotland in 1768, he saw it a smiling valley ; on his Second Journey, four years afterwards, it was a dismal waste. The Solway Moss was an ex- panse of semi-liquid bog covering 1600 acres, and lying somewhat higher than a valley of fertile land near Netherby. So long as the moderately hard crust near the edge was preserved, the moss did not flow over : but on one occasion some peat-diggers imprudently tampered with this crust ; and the moss, moistened with very heavy rain, overcame further control. It was on the night of the I7th of November 1771, that a farmer who lived near the Moss was suddenly alarmed by an iiuusual noise. The crust had given way, and the black deluge was rolling towards his house while he was searching with a lantern for the cause of the noise. When he caught sight of a small dai'k stream, he thought it cam ; from his own farm-yard dung hill, which by some strange cause had been set in motion. The truth soon flashed upon him, however. He gave notice to his neighbours with all expedition. ' Others,' said Pennant, ' received no other advice than what this Stygian tide gave them : some by its noise, many by its entrance into their houses ; and I have been assured that some were sur- prised with it even in their beds. These passed a horrible night, remaining totally ignorant of tlieir fate, and the cause of their calamity, till the morning, when their neighbours with difficulty got them out through the roof.' About 300 acres of bog flowed over 400 acres of land, utterly ruining and even burying the farms, overturning the buildings, filling some of the cottages up to the roof, and sufi'ocating many cattle. The stuff flowed along like thick black paint, studded with lumps of more solid peat ; and it filled every nook and crevice in its passage. ' The disaster of a cow was so singular as to deserve mention. She was the only one, out of eight in the same cow-house, that was saved, after having stood sixty hours up to the neck in mud and water. When she was relieved she did not refuse to eat, but would not touch water, nor would even look at it without manifest signs of horror.' The same things are going on around us at the present day. During the heavy rains of August 1861, there was a displacement of Auchingray JACOB L. C. GEIMir. JANUAEY 4. AEEEST OF THE FIVE MEMBERS. Moss between Slamannan and Airdrie. A farmer, looking out one morning from his farm-door near the first-named town, saw, to his dismay, about twenty acres of the moss separate from its clay bottom, and float a distance of three quarters of a mile. The sight Avas wonderful, but the conse- quences were grievous ; for a large surface of potato-ground and of arable land became covered with the ofieusivc visitant. JANUARY 4. Sf Titus, disciple of St Paul. St Gregory, bishop, 541. St lligobert, or Rjbert, about 750. St Rumon, bishop. Bom. — Archbishop Usher, 1580; Jacob Ludwig Carl Grimm, 1785. Died. — The Mareschal Due de Luxembourg, 1695; Charlotte Lennox, novelist, 1804; Kachel, tragedienne, 1858. JACOB L. C. GRi:\IM. Jacob Grimm and his younger brother Wilhelm, natives of Hanau in the electorate of Hesse Cassel, now (1861) occupying professorships at Berlin, are distinguished as investigators of the early history and literature of Germany. They have produced numerous works, and finally have engaged upon a large Dictionary of the German Language. ' All my labours,' says Jacob Grimm, ' have been either directly or indirectly devoted to researches into our ancient language, poetry, and laws. These studies may seem useless to many ; biit to me they have always appeared a serious and dignified task, firmly and distinctly connected with our common fatherland, and calculated to foster the love of it. I have esteemed nothing trifling in these incjuiries, but have used the small for the elucidation of the great, popular traditions for the elucidation of written documents. Several of my books have been published in common with my brother "VVilliam. We lived from our youth up in brotherly community of goods ; money, books, and coUectanea, belonged to us in common, and it was natural to combine onr labours.' The publications of Jacob extend over fully half a century, the first having appeared in 1811. JLiRESCHAL DUC DE LUXEMBOURG, ICOo. Whatever glory or territory France gained by arms under Louis XIV. might be said to be owing to this singularly able general. It was remarked that each of his campaigns was marked by some brilliant victory, and as these were always bla- zoned on the Malls of the principal church of Paris, he came to be called, by one of those epigrammatic flatteries for which the French are distinguished, Le Tajyissier de Noire Dame. With his death the prosperities of Louis XIV. termi- nated. MADEMOISELLE RACHEL. Tlic modern tragedy queen of France died at thirty-eight — that age which appears so fatal to genius ; that is to say, the age at which an over- worked nervous system comes naturally to a close. An exhausting professional tour in America, entered upon for needless mouey- making, is believed to have had much to do in bringing the great tragedienne to a premature grave. Eachel was the child of poor Hebrew parents, and her talents were first exercised in singing to a guitar on the streets of Paris. When at an early age she broke upon theatrical audi- ences in the characters of Eoxane, CamUle, and others of that class, she created a furore almost unexampled. Yet her style of acting was more calctdated to excite terror than to melt with pity. She was in reality a woman without estimable equalities. The mean passion of avarice was her predominating one, and strange stories are told of the oblique courses she would resort to to gratify it. There was but one relieving considera- tion regarding it, that she employed its results liberally in behalf of the poor family from which she sprang. The feelings with which we heard in England in 1848 that Eachel had excited the greatest enthusiasm in the Theatre Frangais by singing the Marseillaise hymn, and soon after that her lover M. Ledru Eollin, of the provisional government, had paid her song with a grant of public money, will not soon be forgotten. INTRODUCTION OF THE SILK MANUFACTURES INTO EUROPE. It was on the 4th of January 536, that two monks came from the Indies to Constantinople, bringing with the:n the means of teaching the manufacture of silk. Workmen instructed in the art carried it thence to Italy and other parts of Europe. In England, the manufacture was practised as early as the reig-n of Henry VI., in the middle of the fifteenth century. ARREST OF THE FIVE MEMBERS. The 4th of January 1641-2 is the date of one of the most memorable events in English history ■ — the attempted arrest of the five members of the House of Commons — Pym, Hampden, Hollis, Haseh'ig, and Strode — by Charles I. The divi- sions between the unhappy king and his parlia- ment were lowering towards the actual war which broke oiit eight months later. Charles, stung by the Grand Eemonstrance, a paper in which ail the errors of his past government were exposed, thoughtby one decisive act tostrike terror into his outraged subjects, and restore his fidl authority. While London was on the borders of insurrection against his rule, there yet were not wanting considerable numbers of country gentle- men, soldiers of fortune, and others, who were eager to rally round him in any such attempt. His design of coming with an armed band to tJie House and arrestingthe five obnoxious members, was com- municated by a lady of his court; so that, just as he approached the door of the House with his cavalier bands, the gentlemen he wished to seize were retiring to a boat on the river, by which they made their escape. Mr John Forster has assembled, with great skill, aU the facts of the scene which ensued. ' Within the House,' lie says,* ' but a few minutes had elapsed since the Five Members had de- parted, and Mr Speaker had received instruction to sit still with the mace lying before him, when * The Arrest of Five Members, by Charles L A Chapter of English History re-written. By John Forster. 1860. 40 AKEEST OF THE FIVE aiEMBEES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. life-boats and theiu boatmen. a loud knock tlu-e\v open the door, a rusli of armed men was heard, and above it (as vro learn from Sir Ealph Vcrney) the voice of the Kin^ commanding " upon their lives not to come in." The moment after, followed only by his nephew, Charles, the Prince Elector Palatine, Eupert's eldest brother, he entered ; but the door was not permitted to be closed behind him. Visible now at the threshold to all were the officers and des- peradoes, of whom. D'Ewes proceeds : " some had left their cloaks in the hall, and most of them were armed with pistols and swords, and they forcibly kept the door of the House of Commons open, one Captain Hide standing next the door holding his sword upright in the scabbard." A picture which Sir llalph Verney, also present that day, in his place, completes by adding that, " so the door was kept open, and the Earl of Eoxbiu'gh stood within the door, leaning upon it." ' The King walked uncovered along the hall, while the members stood uncovered and silent on each side. Taking a position on the step in front of the Speaker's chair, he looked round for the faces of Pym and his four associates, and not finding them, he thus spoke : ' Gentlemen, I am sorry for this occasion of coming among you. Yes- terday I sent a serjeant-at-arms upon a very impor- tant occasion to apprehend some that by my com- mand were accused of high treason ; whereunto I did expect obedience, and not a message. And I must declare unto you here, that albeit no king that ever was in England, shall be more cai'eful of yo'Ai' pi'ivileges, to maintain them to the utter- most of his power, than I shall be, yet you must know that in cases of treason no person hath a privilege. And therefore I am come to know if any of these persons that were accused ai'e here.' Still casting his eyes vainly around, he after a pause added, ' So long as those persons that I have accused (for no slight crime, but for treason) are here, I cannot expect that this House will be in the right way I do heartily wish it. Therefore I am come to tell you that I must have them, wherever I find them.' After another pause, he called out, ' Is Mr Pym here ? ' No answer being returned, he asked if Mr Hollis was here. There being still no answer, he turned to the Speaker, and put these questions to him. The scene became pain- fully embarrassing to all. and it grew more so when Lenthal, kneeling before the King, entreated him to tinderstand that he could neither see nor speak but at the pleasure of the House. ]\Ir Forster has been enabled by D'Ewes to describe the remainder of the scene in vivid terms. After another long pause — a ' dreadful silence ' — ' Charles spoke again to the crowd of mute and sullen faces. The complete failure of his scheme was now accomplished, and all its possible con- sequences, all the suspicions and retaliations to which it had laid him open, appear to have rushed upon his mind. " Well, since I see all my birds are flown, I do expect from you that you will send them unto me as soon as they return hither. But, I assure you, on the word of a king, I never did intend any force, but shall proceed against Ihcm in a legal and fair way, for I never meant any other. And now, since I see that I cannot 50 do what I came for, I think this no unfit occasion to repeat yshat I have said formerly, that what- soever I have done in favour, and to the good, of my subjects, I do mean to maintain it. I will trouble you no more, but tell you I do expect, as soon as they come to the House, you will send them to me ; otherwise I must take my own course to fincl them." To that closing sentence, the note left by Sir Ealph Verney makes a not unimportant addition, which, however, appears nowhere in Eushworth's Eeport. "For their treason was foid, and such an one as they woidd all thank hiin to discover." If uttered, it was an angry assertion from amid forced and laboured apologies, and so far, would agree with what D'Ewes observed of his change of manner at the time. " After he had ended his speech, he went out of the House in a more discontented and angry passion than he came in, going out again between myself and the south end of the clerk's table, and the Prince Elector after him." ' But he did not leave as he had entered, in silence. Low mutterings of fierce discontent broke out as he passed along, and many members cried out aloud, so as he might hear them. Privi- lege ! Privilege ! With these words, ominous of ill, ringing in his ear, he repassed to his palace through the lane again formed of his armed adhe- rents, and amid audible shouts of an evil augury from desperadoes disappointed of their prey.' There was but an interval of six days between the King's entering the House of Commons, and his flight from Whitehall. Charles raised the issue, the Commons accepted it, and so began our Great Civil War. LIFE- BOATS AND THEIR BOATMEN. The northern coast of Wales, between the towns of Ehyl and Abergele, was thrown into excitement on the 4th of January 1847, by the loss of one gallant life-boat, and the success of another. A schooner, the Temperance of Belfast, got into distress in a raging sea. The Ehyl life- boat pushed ofi" in a wild surf to aid the sufferers ; whether the boat was injured or mismanaged, none survived to tell ; for all the crew, thirteen in number, were overwhelmed by the sea, and found a watery grave. The Temperance, however, was not neglected ; another life-boat set out from Point-of-Air, and braving all dangers, brought the crew of the schooner safe to land. This event is a type of two important things in relation to the shipping of England — the enor- mous amount of wreck on our coasts, and the heroic and unselfish exertions made to save human life imperilled by those catastrophes. The wreck is indeed terrible. There is a ' Wreck Chart ' of the British Islands now published annually, spot- ted with death all over ; little black marks are engraved for every wreck, opposite the part of the coast where they occurred. More than one of these charts has had a thousand such spots, each denoting either a total wreck or a serious disaster, and involving the loss of a still larger number of lives. The collier ships which bring coal from the north to London are sadly exposed to these calamities during their ten or twelve thou- sand annual voyages. The eastern coast from the Tyne to the Himiber, the coast opposite Yar- LIFE-BOATS AND THEIE BOATMEN. JANUARY 4. LIFE-BOATS AND THEIE BOATMEN. mouth, the shoals off the mouth of the Thames, the Scilly Isles, the west coast of Wales, and Barnstaple Bay, are all dismal places for wrecks. Little need is there to teU the story of ship- wreck : it is known full well. How the returning emigrant, with his belt full of gold, sinks to a briny grave when within sight of his native shore ; how the outgoing emigrant meets with a similar death before his voyage has well commenced ; how the soldier is overwhelmed when departing to fight on foreign shores ; how fi'iends are severed, valuable goods lost, merchants ruined — aU this is known to every one who takes up a newspaper. Some may say, looking at the pro- digious activity of our shipping, that wreck is an inevitable accompaniment of such a system. When we consider that seven hundred over-sea voyages fer day either begin or end at a port in the United Kingdom, we ought to expect disasters as one of the attendant consequences. True, some disasters : the question is, whether pruden- tial arrangements might not lessen the number. About seventy years ago, after a terrible storm on the Northumbrian coast, Mr Great- head, of South Shields, constructed what he called a safety-hoat or life-boat, containing much cork in its composition, as a means of producing buoyancy. Other inventors followed and tried to improve the construction by the use of air-tight cases, india-rubber linings, and other light but impervioiis substances. Sometimes these boats were instrumental in saving life ; sometimes a Grace Darling, daring aU perils, would push forth to a distressed ship in a common open boat ; but still the loss of life by shipwreck was every year distressingly great. It was under this state of things that the 'Insti- tution for the Preservation of Life from Ship- wreck ' was foimded in 1824, to establish life- boats and mortar-rockets at all the dangerous parts of our coasts ; to induce the formation of local committees at the chief ports for a similar purpose ; to maintain a correspondence with tliose committees ; and to encourage the inven- tion of new or improved boats, buoys, belts, rocket apparatus, and other appliances for saving life. Eight nobly has this work been done. Without fee or reward, without guarantee or 'subsidy,' the Institution, now called the ' Life- Boat Institution,' has been emj)loyed for nearly forty years in saving human life. Many an excit- ing narrative may be picked out of the pages of the Life-Boat, a journal in which the Institution occasionally records the story of shipwreck and of life-preserving. The life-boat system is remarkable in all its points. In 1850 the Duke of Northumberland offered a prize for the best form of life-boat. The boat-builders set to work, and sent in nearly 300 plans ; the winner was Mr Beeching, boat- builder at Yarmouth. Oddly enough, however, the examiners did not practically adopt any one of them, not even Mr Beeching's ; they got a member of their own body (Mr Peake, master sliipwright at Woolwich dockyard) to construct a life-boat that should comprise all the best points of all the best plans. This boat, slightly im- proved by later alterations, is the one now adopted by the Life-Boat Institution, and coming into use in other countries besides our own. It is about thirty feet long, seven wide, and four deep ; nearly alike at both ends, and ingeniously con- trived with air chambers, passages, and valves. It possesses in a high degree these qualities- great lateral stability ; speed against a heavy sea ; facility for landing and for taking the shore ; im- mediate self-discharge of sea-water; facility of self- righting if upset ; great strength of construction ; and stowage room for a number of passengers. Gallantly the boatmen manage these life-boats. The Institution maintains life-boat stations all round the coast, each of which is a little iwyje- rium in itself— a life-boat, generally a boat-house to keep it in, a carriage on which to drag it out to the sea, and a comx^lete service of all the articles necessary for the use of the men. There is a captain or coxswain to each boat, and he can command the services of a hardy crew, obtained partly by salaries and partly by reward when actually engaged in saving life. The Institution can point to nearly 12,000 lives saved between 1824 and 1861, either directly by the boats and boatmen, or by exertions encouraged and rewarded by the Institution. Nor should the gallant life-boatmen be grudged their bit of honest pride at what they have done. They can teU of the affair of October 7th, 1854, when, in an easterly gale at Holm Sand on the Suffolk coast, the life-boat boldly struck out, and finding a Norwegian brig in distress, was baffled by the drunken state of the eight sea- men on board, but succeeded, on a second at- tempt next morning, in bringing all safely off, the men being by that time sobered and manage- able. They can tell of the affair of the 2nd of May, 1855, when the Eamsgate beachmen saw signal rockets at the light-vessels moored off the Good- win Sands, denoting that a ship was in danger. The life-boat gallantly started on her mission of mercy. Then was there seen a hapless ship, the Queen of the Teign, high and dry on the Goodwins, with a foaming sea on the edge of the sand. How to get near it ? The boatmen waited till the morning tide supplied a sulllciency of water ; they went in, ran on the sand among the breakers, and aided the poor exhausted crew of the ship to clamber on board the life-boat. All were saved ; and by dexterous management the ship was saved also. There was the AVhitby case of January the 4th, 1857, when one of the boatmen was clearly washed out of the life- boat, over the heads of all his companions, by a raging sea ; and yet all were saved, ship's crew and boatmen alike. But most of aU do the life- boatmen pleasurably reflect on the story of the Northern Belle, and what they achieved for the crew of that ship. It was a fine vessel, an American trader of 1100 tons. On the 5th of January 1857, she was off the North Foreland, struck by a terrible sea, and placed in imminent peril. The Broadstairs boatmen harnessed them- selves to their life-boat carriage, and dragged it with the l^oat a distance of no less than two miles, from Broadstairs to Kingsgate, over a heavy and hiUy country. In the dead, of a winter's night, amid had, sleet, and rain, the men could not sec where to launch their boat. They waited through the darkness. At day-break on HAXDSEL MONDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE MAN IN THE MOON. the next moraine:, a distressinjx sii^Iit presented itself: twenty-three poor fellows were elingin^ to the riijijini^" of the only remainini^ mast of the Korf/icrii lH'/h\ to whieh they hail hehl on dur- inix this appallini; night. Oil'went the life-boat, the Man/ White, niannoil by seven daring boatmen, ■who' braved the raging sea Avhich washed over then\ repeatedly. ' They went to the Avreck, brought ofl" seven men, and were obliged to leave the rest for fear of involving all in destruction. Meanwhile another life-boat, the Ciilmcr White, was wheeled overland irom Broadstairs, then hiunehed. and succeeded in bringing away four- teen of the suiYerers. There renuiined only two others, the captain and the pilot, who refused to leave the wreck so long as a spar was standing. The Culmcr White dashed out a second time, rescued these two mariners, and left the hapless ship to its watery grave. How the poor American sailors were warmed and cared for at the little hostelry, the ' Captain Digby,' at Kiugsgate ; how the life-boats returned in triumphant pro- cession to Broadstairs; and how the quiet heroism of the life-boatmen was the admiration of all — the newspapers of the period fully told. EVIDENCE ABOUT A CHIMNEY. A claim having been made this day (1826), at the Marlborougli-street Police Oifiee, for a reward on account of the detection of a brewery chimney on fire, it Avas resisted on the ground that the flue, which was above eighty feet high, was so constructed and managed that it could not take fire. A witness on this side. Avho gave the (un- necessarj') information that he was a chimney- sweep, set forth his evidence in the following terms : ' This here man (pointing to the patrol) has told a false aflidavit, your wortship. I knows that ere chimlej'' from a hiufant, and she knows my foot as well as my own mother. The ways I goes up her is this — I goes in all round the boiler, then I twists in the chimley like the smoke, and then up I goes with the wind, for, your wortship, there's a wind in her that would blow you out like a feather, if you didn't know her as well as I do, and that makes me always go to the top myself, be- cause there isn't a brick in her that doesn't know my foot. So that you see, your wortship, no soot or blacks is ever in her; the wind won't let 'em stop : and besides they knows that I go up her regular. So that she always keeps herself as clean as a new pin. I'll be bound the sides of her is as clean this minute as I am (not saying much for the chimney) ; therefore, your wortship, that ere man as saw two yards of fire coming out of her, did not see no such thing, I say ; and he has told your wortship, and these here gentlemen present, a false atfidavit, I say. I was brought up in that chimley, your wortship, and I can't abear to hear such things said — lies of her ; and that's all as I knows at present, please your wortship.' The first Monday of the year* is a great holi- day among the peasantry of Scotland, and * The year 1864 being assumed as the basis of the Book of Days, the popular Scotch festival of Handsel- Monday comes to be treated under the 4th of January. 52 children generally, as being the day peculiarly devoted in that country to the giving and receiv- ing of ])rosents. It is on this account called Handsel 3Ionda>/, handsel being in Scotland the equivalent of a Christmas box, but more speci- ally inferring a gift at the commencement of a season or the induing of some new garment. The young people visit their seniors in expectation of tips (the voi'd, but not the action, unknown in the north). Postmen, scavengei's, and deliverers of newspapers look for their little annual guerdons. Among the vuvBlr)OY)\ila,t\on,AuldIIansel]\fonda)/, i. e. Handsel Monday old style, or the first Monday after the 12th of the month, is the day usually held. The farmers used to treat the Avhole of their servants on that morning to a liberal breakfast of roast and boiled, with ale, whiskey, and cake, to their utmost contentment ; after which the guests went about seeing their friends for the remainder of the day. It was also the day on which any disposed for change gave up their places, and when new servants were en- gaged. Even now, when most old fashions are much decayed, Auld Handsel Ifondai/ continues to be the holiday of the year to the class of farm- labourers in Scotland. ' It is worth mentioning that one "William Hunter, a collier (residing in the parish of Tilli- coultry, in Clackmannanshire), was cured in the year 1738 of an inveterate rheumatism or gout, oy drinking freely of new ale, full of barm or yeast. The poor man had been confined to his bed for a year and a half, having almost entirely lost the use of his limbs. On the evening of Handsel Monday, as it is called, some of his neighbours came to make merry with him. Though he could not rise, yet he always took his share of the ale, as it passed round the com- pany, and in the end he became much intoxicated. The consequence was that he had the use of his limbs next morning, and was able to walk about. He lived more than twenty years after this, and never had the smallest return of his old com- jilaint.' — (Sinclair's) Statistical Account of Scot- land, XV. 201, note. 6il]c P^an iit ilje '^omx. This is a familiar expression, to which few persons attach any definite idea. Many would be found under a belief that it refers merely to that faint appearance of a face which the moon presents when full. Those who are better acquainted with natural objects, and with folk- lore, are aware that the Man in the Moon — the object referred to under that name — is a dusky resemblance to a human figure which appears en the western side of the luminary when eight days old, being somewhat like a man carrying a thorn- bush on his back, and at the same time engaged in climbing, while a detached object in front looks like his dog going on before him. It is a very old popular notion amongst various nations, that this figure is the man referred to in the book of Nvimbers (chap. xv. v. 32 et seq.), as having been detected by the children of Israel in the wilder- ness, in the act of gathering sticks on the Sabbath-day, and whom the Lord directed (in absence of a law on the subject) to be stoned ST SIMEON STYLITES. JANUAEY 5. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. to death -nitliout tlie camp. One would liave tliougbfc this poor stick-gatherer sufBciently pun- ished in the actual history : nevertheless, the ]3opular mind has assigned him the additional pain of a perpetual pillorying in the moon. There he is with his burden of sticks upon his back, continually climbing up that shining height with his little dog before him, but never getting a step higher ! And so it ever must be while the world endures ! Our poets make clear to iia how old is this notion. "When 3Ioonshine is to be represented in the famous play of Pyramus and Thisbe (Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream), Mr Quince, the carpenter, gives due directions, as follows : ' One must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes in to disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine.' And this order is realised. ' All I have to say,' concludes the performer of this strange part, * is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon ; I the man in the moon ; this thorn-bush my thorn- bush ; and this dog my dog.' Chaucer adverts to the Man in the Moon, with a needless aggra- vation of his criminality : ' On her hrest a chorle painted fiil even, Bearing a bush of thorns on his liacke, Which for his theft might chme so ne'r the heaven.' Dante, too, the contemporary of Chaucer, makes reference, in his Inferno, to the Man in the Moon, but with a variation upon the poj)ular English idea, in as far as he calls him Cain. In Eitson's Ancient Songs, there is one extracted from a manuscript of the time of Edward II., on the Man in the Moon, but in language which can scarcely now be understood. The first verse, in modern orthography, will probably satisfy the reader: ' Man in the Moon stand and stit (?) On his hot fork his bm-den lie beareth. It is much wonder that he ua down sht. For doubt lest he fall he shudd'reth and shi'ereth. WTien the frost freezes must chill lie byde, The thorns be keen his hattren * so teareth, Nis no wight in the world there wot when he syt (?) Xe bote it by the hedge what weeds he weareth.' JANUARY 5. St Simeon Stj-lites, 4.59; St Telesphorus, seventh bishop of Rome, 128; St Sjncletica (4th century ?), virgin. ST SIMEON STYLITES, so named from the Greek word stylos, a pillar, was the founder of an order of monks, or rather solitary devotees, called pillar-saints. Of all the forms of voluntary self-torture practised by the early Christians this was one of the most extra- ordinary. Originally a shepherd in Cilicia about the year 408, when only thirteen years of age, * Attire. Simeon left his flocks, and obtained admission into a monastery in Syria, but afterwards withdrew to a mountain about thirty or forty miles east from Antioch, where he at first confined himself within a circle of stones. Deeming this mode of penance not sufficiently severe, in the year 423 he fixed his residence on the top of a pillar, which was at first nine feet high, but was successively raised to the somewhat incredible height of sixty feet (forty cubits). The diameter of the top of the pillar was only three feet, but it was surrounded by a railing which secured him from falling off", and afforded him some relief by leaning against it. His clothing consisted of the skins of beasts, and he wore an iron collar round his neck. He exhorted the assembled people twice a day, and spent the rest of his time in assuming various postures of devotion. Sometimes he prayed kneeling, sometimes in an erect attitude with his arms stretched out in the form of a cross, but his most frequent exercise was that of bending his meagre body so as to make his head nearly touch his feet. A spectator once observed him make more than 1240 such reverential bendings without resting. In this manner he lived on his pillar more than thirty years, and there he died in the year 459. His remains were removed to Antioch with great solemnity. His predictions and the miracles ascribed to him are mentioned at large in Theodoretus, who gives an account of the lives of thirty celebrated hermits, ten of whom were his contemporaries, including St Simeon Stylites. The pillar-saints were never numerous, and the propagation of the order was almost exclusively in the warm climates of the East. Among the names recorded is that of another Simeon, styled the younger, who is said to have dwelt sixty years on his pillar. Born. — Dr. Benjamin Rush, 11 A5,PMladelpMa ; Thomas Pringle, traveller and poet, 1789. Died. — Edward the Confessor, 1066, Westminster; Catherine de Medicis, Queen of France, 1589 ; James Merrick, 1769, Reading ; Jolin Howie, author of The Scots WortJiies, 1793 ; Isaac Heed, commentator on Shakspeare 1807 ; Marshal Radetsky, 1858. EDWARD, THE CONFESSOR. Towards the close of 1065, this pious monarch completed the rebuilding of the Abbey at West- minster, and at Christmas he caused the newly- built church to be hallowed in the presence of the nobles assembled during that solemn festival. The king's health continued to decline ; and early in the new year, on the 5th of January, he felt that the hand of death was upon him. As he lay, tradition says, in the painted chamber of the palace at Westminster, a little while before he expired, Harold and his kinsman forced their way into the apartment, and ex- horted the monarch to name a successor, by whom the realm might be ruled in peace and security. ' Ye know full Avell, my lords,' said Edward, ' that I have bequeathed my kingdom to the Duke of Normandy, and arc there not those here whose oaths have been given to secure his succession ? ' Harold stepped nearer, and interrupting the king, he asked of Edward upon 53 EDR'AEB THE CONFESSOE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN HOWIE. whom the crown should be bestowed. ' Harold ! take it, if such be thy wish ; but the gift will be thy ruin. Against the Puke and his baronage no power of thine can avail thee ! ' Harold replied that he did not fear the IN^orman or any other enemy. The dying king. Mearied with importunity, turned himself upon his couch, and faintly inti- mated that the English nation might name a king, Harold, or whom they liked ; and shortly afterwards he expired. In the picturesque language of Sir Francis Palgravc, ' On the fes- tival of the Epiphany, the day after the king's decease, his obsequies were solemnised in the adjoining abbey, then connected with the royal abode by walls and towers, the foundations whereof are still existing. Beneath the lofty windows of the southern transept of the Abbey, you may see the deep and blackened arches, fragments of the edifice raised by Edward, sup- porting the chaste and florid tracery of a more recent age. Westward stands the shrine, once rich in gems and gold, raised to the memory of the Confessor by the devotion of his successors, despoiled, indeed, of all its ornaments, neglected, and crumbling to ruin, but still surmounted by the massy iron-bound oaken coffin which con- tains the ashes of the last legitimate Anglo-Saxon king.' — Historii ofEncjland: Anglo-Saxon Period. DEATH AND BUDJAL OF THE CONFESSOR, FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY. We long possessed many interesting memorials of the Confessor in the coronation insignia which he gave to the Abbey Treasury — including the rich vestments, golden crown and sceptres, dalmatic, embroidered pall, and spurs — used at the coro- nations of our sovereigns, until the reign of Charles II. The death and funeral of the Con- fessor are worked in a compartment of the Bayeux Tapestry, believed to be of the age of the Conquest. The crucifix and gold chain and ring were seen in the reign of James II. The sculp- tures upon the frieze of the present shrine rej^re- seut-fourteen scenes in the life of the Confessor. He was the first of our sovereigns who touched for the king's-evii; he was canonized by Pope Alexander aljout a century after his death. The use of the Great Seal was first introduced in his reign: the original is in the British Museum. Hewas esteemed the patron-saint of England xmtil superseded in the 13thcenturyby St George; the translation of his relics from the old to his new shrine at "Westminster, in 1263, still finds a 54 place, on the 13th of October, in the English Calendar : and more than twenty churches exist, dedicated either to him or to Fdward the king and martyr. JOHN HOWIE was author of a book of great popularity in Scot- land, entitled the Scots IVorthies, being a homely but perspicuous and pathetic account of a select number of persons who sufiered for ' the cove- nanted work of Reformation' during the reigns of the last Stuarts. Howie was a simple-minded Ayrshire moorland farmer, dwelling in a lonely cot amongst bogs, in the parish of Fenwick, a place which his ancestors had possessed ever since the persecuting time, and which continued at a recent period to be occupied by his descend- ants. His great-grandfather was one of the per- secuted people, and many of the unfortunate brethren had received shelter in the house when they did not know where else to lay their head. One friend, Captain Paton, in Meadowhead, when ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF LOUIS XV. JANUARY 5. TWELFTH-DAY EVE. executed at EdinburgL. in 1681, handed down his bible from the scaffold to his wife, and it soon after came into the hands of the Howies, who still preserve it. The captain's sword, a flag for the parish of Fenwick, carried atBothwell Bridge, a drum believed to have been used there, and a variety of manuscripts left by covenanting divines, were all preserved along with the cap- tain's bible, and rendered the house a museum of Presbyterian antiquities. People of great emi- nence have pilgrimised to Lochgoin to see the home of John Howie and his collection of curiosities, and generally have come away ac- knowledging the singular interest attaching to both. The simple worth, primitive manners, and strenuous faith of the elderly sons and daughters of John Howie, by whom the little farm was managed, formed a curious study in themselves. Visitors also fondly lingered in the little room, constituting the only one besides the kitchen, which formed at once the parlour and study of the author of the Worthies ; also over a bower in the little cabbage-garden, where John used to spend hours — nay, days — in religious exercises, and where, he tells us, he formally subscribed a covenant with God on the 10th of June 1785. A stone in the parish churchyard records the death of the great-grandfather in 1691, and of the grandfather in 1755, the latter being ninety years old, and among the last sur- vivors of those who had gone through the fire of Eersecution. John Howie -wrote a memoir of imself, which no doubt contains something one cannot but smile at, as does his other Avork also. Yet there is so much pure-hearted earnest- ness in the man's writings, that they cannot be read without a certain respect. The Howies of Lochgoin may be said to have formed a monu- ment of the religious feelings and ways of a long by-past age, protracted into modern times. We see in them and their cot a specimen of the world of the century before the last. It is to be feared that in a few more years both the physical and the moral features of the place will be entirely changed. ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF LOUIS XV. On the 5th of January 1757, an attempt was made upon the life of the worthless French king, Louis XV., by Eobert Francis Damiens. ' Between five and six in the evening, the king was getting into his coach at Versailles to go to the Trianon. A man, who had lurked about the colonnades for two days, pushed up to the coach, jostled the dauphin, and stabbed the king under the right arm with a long knife ; but, the king having two thick coats, the blade did not penetrate deep. Louis was surprised, but thinking the man had only pushed against him, said, 'Le coquin m'a donne un furieux coup de poing,' but glutting his hand to his side, and feeling blood, he said, ' II m'a blesse ; qu'on le saisisse, et qu'on ne lui fasse point de mal.' The king being carried to bed, it was quickly ascertained that the wound was slight and not dangerous. ' Damiens, the criminal, appeared clearly to be mad. He had been footman to several persons, had fled for a robbery, had returned to Paris in a dark and restless state of mind ; and by one of those wonderful contradictions of the human mind, a man aspired to renown that had descended to theft. Yet in this dread- ful complication of guilt and frenzy, there was room for compassion. The unfortunate wretch was sensible of the predominance of his black temperament ; and the very morning of the assassination, asked for a surgeon to let him blood ; and to the last gasp of being, he persisted that he should not have committed this crime, if he had been blooded. What the miserable man suffered is not to be described. "S^Tien first raised and carried into the guard-chamber, the Garde-de- sceaux and the Due d'Ayen ordered the tongs to be heated, and pieces torn from his legs, to make him declare his accomplices. The industrious art used topreserve his life was not less than the refine- ment of torture by which they meant to take it away. The inventions to form the bed on which he lay (as the wounds on his leg prevented his standing), that his health might in no shape be affected, equalled what a reproving tyrant would have sought to indulge his own luxury. ' When carried to the dungeon, Damiens was wrapped up in mattresses, lest despair might tempt him to dash liis brains out, but his madness was no longer precipitate. He even amused him- self by indicating a variety of innocent persons as his accomplices ; and sometimes, more harmlessly, by playing the fool with his judges. In no instance he sank either under terror or anguish. The very morning on which he was to endure the question, when told of it, he said with the coolest intrepidity, " La journee sera rude " — after it, in- sisted on some wine with his water, saying, " II faut ici de la force." And at the accomplishment of his tragedy, studied and prolonged on tiie precedent of Havadlac's, he supported all with unrelaxed firmness ; and even unremitted tor- ture of four hours, which succeeded to his being two hours and a-half under the question, forced from him but some momentary yells.' — Memoirs of the JReign of King George the Second, ii., 281. That, in France, so lately as 1757, such a criminal shoidd have been publicly torn to pieces by horses, that many persons of rank should have been present on the occasion, and that the sufferer aUowed ' quelques plaisanteries ' to escape him during the process, altogether leave us in a strange state of feeling regarding the affair of Damiens. Twelfth-day Eve is a rustic festival in England. Persons engaged in rural employments are, or have heretofore been accustomed to celebrate it ; and the purpose appears to be to secure a bless- ing for the fruits of the earth. ' In Herefordshire, at the approach of the even- ing, the farmers with their friends and servants meet together, and about six o'clock walk out to a field where wheat is growing. In the highest part of the ground, twelve smaU fires, and one large one, are lighted up. The attendants, headed by the master of the family, pledge the company 55 TWELFTH -DAT EVE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD ENGLISH PEONUNCIATIONS. in old cider, -wlurli circulates freely on these occasions. A circle is formed round the large fire, when a general shout and hallooing takes place, which YOU hear answered from all the adjacent villages and fields. Sometimes fifty or sixty of tlu^so fires may he all seen at once. This heing fiuished, the comiiany return home, where tlie good housewife and her maids are preparing a good sun}>er. A large cake is alwaj-s provided,' with a nolo in the middle. After supper, the compaTiy all attend the hailifF (or head of the oxen) to the wain-house, where the following par- ticulars are ohscrved : The master, at the head of his friends, fills the cup (generally of strong ale), and stands opposite the first or finest of the oxen. He then pleilgcs him in a curious toast : the companj' follow his example, witli all the otlier oxen, and addressing each by his name. This being finished, the large cake is produced, and, with much ceremony, put on the horn of the first ox. through the hole above mentioned. The ox is then tickled, to make him toss his head : if he throw the cake behind, then it is the mistress's perquisite: if before (in what is termed the boosy), the bailift' himself claims the prize. The company then retui-n to the house, the doors of which tliey find locked, nor will they be opened till some joyous songs are sung. On tlieir gaining admit- tance, a scene of mirth and jollity ensues, which lasts the greatest part of the wight.'— Gentleman s JIapazine, Fehniari/, 1791. The custom is called in Herefordshire iVassaiUng. The fires are de- signed to represent the Saviour and his apostles, and it was customary as to one of them, held as representing Judas Iseariot, to allow it to burn a while, and then put it out and kick about the materials. At Pauntley, in Gloucestershire, the custom has in view the prevention of the smut in wheat. ' All the servants of every farmer assemble in one of the fields that has been sown with wheat. At the end of twelve lauds, they make twelve fires in a row with straw ; around one of which, made larger than the rest, they drink a cheerful glass of cider to their master's health, and success to the future harvest ; then returning home, they feast on cakes made with carraways, soaked in cider, which they claim as a reward for their past labour in sowing the grain.'* 'In the south hams [villages] of Devonshire, on the eve of the Epiphanj^ the farmer, attended. by his workmen, with a large pitcher of cider, goes to the orchard, and there encircling one of the best bearing trees, they drink the following toast three several times : — ' Here's to thee, old apple-tree, Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow ! And whence thou mayst bear apples enow ! Hats full! caps full! Bushel — bushel — sacks full, And my pockets fidl too ! Huzza ! This done, they return to the house, the doors of which they are sure to find bolted by the females, who, be the weather what it may, are inexorable to all entreaties to open them till some one has 56 Radge's Gloucester, guessed at what is on the spit, which is generally some nice little thing, diihcult to be hit on, and is the reward of him who fii'st names it. The doors are then thrown open, and the lucky clod- ])ole receives the tit-bit as his recompense. Some are so superstitious as to believe, that if they neglect this custom, the trees will bear no apples that year.' — Gentleman s Mac/azine, 1791, p. 403. OLD ENGLISH PRONUNCIATIONS. The history of the pronunciation of the English language has been little traced. It fully appears that many words have sustained a considerable change of pronunciation during the last four hundred years : it is more particidarly marked in the vowel sounds. In the days of Elizabeth, high personages pronounced certain words in the same way as the common people now do in Scot- land. Eor example, the wise Lord Treasurer Burleigh said ^DJlan instead of when, and war instead of were ; witness a sentence of his own : ' At Enfield, fyndying a dozen in a plump, whan there was no rayne, I bethought myself that they war appointed as watchmen, for the apprehend- yug of such as are missyng,' &c. — Letter to Sir Erancis Walsingham, 1586. (Collier's Papers to ShaJcspeare Society.) Sir Thomas Gresham, writing to his patron in behalf of his Avife, says : ' I humbly beseech your honour to be a s'te^ and some comfort to her in this my absence.' Elud- ing these men using such forms, we may allowalily suppose that much also of their colloquial dis- course was of the same homely character. Lady More, widow of the Lord Chancellor Sir Thomas More, writing to the Secretary Cromwell in 1535, beseeched his ' especial c/ude maistership,' out of his ' abundant gudeness ' to consider her case. ' So, bretherne, here is my maister,' occurs in Bishop Lacy's Exeter Pontifical about 1450. These pronunciations are the broad Scotch of the j)resent day. Tway for two, is another old English pronun- ciation. ' By whom came the inheritance of the lordship of Burleigh, and other lands, to the value of twai hundred pounds yearly,' says a contemporary life of the illustrious Lord Trea- surer. Tway also occurs in Piers Ploughman's Creed in the latter part of the fourteenth cen- tury : ' Thereon lay a litel chylde lapped in cloutes, And tweyne of tweie yeres olde,' &c. So also an old manuscript poem preserved at Cambridge : ' Dame, he seyde, how schalle we doo, He fayleth twaye tethe also.' This is the pronunciation of Tweeddale at the present day ; w^hile in most parts of Scotland they say tioa. Tway is nearer to the German ziuei. A Scotsman, or a North of England man, speaking in his vernacular, never says ' all : ' he says ' a'.' In the old English poem of Savelok, the same form is used : ' He shall haven in his hand A Denemark and Encreland.' OLD ENGLISH PEONTTNCIATIONS. JANUAEY 5. OLD ENGLISH PEONUNCIATIONS. The Scotsman uses ony for any : ' Aye keep something to yoursel' Ye scarcely tell to ony. ' Burns. This is old English, as witness Caxton the printer in one of his publishing advertisements issued about 1490 : ' If it pies ony man, spirituel or temporel,' &c. An Englishman in those days would say ane for one, even in a prayer : ' Thus was Thou aye, and evere salle be, Tlu-e yn ane, and ane yn thre.' A couplet, by the way, which gives another Scotch form in sal for shall. He also used amavcj for among, sang for song, faught for fought, (' They faught with Heraud everilk ane.' Guy of Warwick.) tald for told, fa)id for found, gane for gone, and aian for own. The last four occur in the curious verse inscriptions on the frescoes repre- senting scenes in St Augustine's life in Carlisle Cathedral, and in many other places, as a refer- ence to Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaisms will shew. In a manuscript form of the making of an abbess, of probably the fifteenth century, main- teyne for maintain, sete for seat, and quere for quire, shew the prevalence at that time in Eng- land of pronunciations still retained in Scotland. {Bugdales Monasiicon, i. 437.) Ahstein for ab- stain, persevered down to the time of Elizabeth : ' He that will doo this worke shall ahsteine from lecherousness and dronkennesse, ' &c. Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1581, where contein also occurs. The form sooh for suck, which still prevails in Scotland, occurs in Capgrave's metrical Life of St Katherine, about 1450. ' Ah ! Jesu Christ, crown of maidens all, A maid bare thee, a maid gave thee sooh.'' Slree for straw — being very nearly the Scottish ]:)rouunciation — occurs in Sir John Mandeville's Travels, of the fourteenth century. Even that peculiarly vicious northern form of shooter for suitor would appear, from a punning passage in Shakspeare, to have formerly prevailed in the south also : Boyet. — Who is the suitor? Rosaline. — Well, then, I am the shooter. Lovers Labour Lost. It is to be observed of Shakspeare that he uses fewer old or northern words than some of his contemporaries ; yet the remark is often made by Scotsmen, that much of his language, which the commentators explain for English readers, is to them intelligible as their vernacular, so that they are in a condition more readily to appreciate the works of the bard of Avon than even his own countrymen. The same remark may be made regarding Spenser, and especially witli respect to his curi- ous poem of the Shepherd' s Calendar. When he there tells of a ewe, that ' She mought no gang on the greene,' he uses almost exactly the language that would be employed by a Sel- kirkshire shepherd, on a like occasion, at the present day. So also when Thenot says : ' Tell me, good Hobbinol, what gars thee greete ? ' he speaks pure Scotch. In this poem, Spenser also uses tway for two, gait for goat, mickle for much, wark for work, wae for woe, ken for know, craig for the neck, warr for worse, hame for home, and teen for sorrow, all of these being Scottish terms. Erom that rich well of old English, Wycliffe's translation of the Bible, we learn that in the fourteenth century ahoon stood for above (' Gird ahowen with knychtis gyrdill,' 2 Kings iii. 21), nowther was neither, and hreed was bread (' Give to lis this day oure breed,' &c.), all of these being Scottish pronunciations of the present day. Wycliffe also uses many words, now obsolete in England, but still iised in Scotland, as oker for interest, orison for oration, almery, a press or cupboard, sad for firm or solid, tolhooth, a place to receive taxes (' He seith a man syttynge in a tolbothe, Matheu by name,' Matt. ix. 9) ; toun for a farm (' The first saide, Y have boucht a tovin, and Y have nede to go out and se it,' Luke xiv. 19), scarry for precipitous, repe for a handful of corn-straw (' Here's a rip to thy auld 'baggie.'— -Burns. ' Whanne thou repest corn in the feeld, and forgetist and leeuest a repe, thou schalt not turn agen to take it,' Deut. xxiv. 19), forleit for left altogether. The last, a term which every boy in Scotland applies to the forsaking of a nest by the bird, was used on a remarkable public occasion to describe the act of James II. in leaving his country. ' Others,' says Sir George Mackenzie, ' were for declaring that the king had forleited the kingdom.' The diflerences of pronunciation which now exist between the current English and cognate languages chiefly lie in the vowel sounds. The English have flattened down the broad A in a vast number of cases, and played a curious legerde- main with E and I, while other nations have in these particulars made no change. It seems to have been a pi-ocess of refinement, or what was thought to be such, in accordance with the advanc- ing conditions of domestic life in a counti-y on the whole singularly fortunate in all the circum- stances that favour civilization. Whether there is a real improvement in the case may be dovibted ; that it is a deterioration would scarcely be asserted in any quarter. Even those, however, who take the most favourable view of it, must regret that the change should have extended to the pronun- ciation of Greek and Latin. To introduce the flat A for the broad one, and interchange the sounds of E and I, in these ancient languages, must be pronounced as an utterly unwarrantable interference with something not our own to deal with — it is like one author making alterations in the writings of another, an act which justice and good taste alike condemn. CArt^/L-.— Mrs Delany says : ' I have found remark- able benefit from having chalk in everything I drink ; a lump put into the jug of water, and the tea- water managed in the same way. It is a great sweetener of the blood.' Price of Tea in 1728. — ' The man at the Poultry has tea of all prices — Bohea from thirteen to twenty shil- lings, and green from twelve to thirty.' — Mrs. Delamfs Correspondence. 57 BENJAMIN FBANKLIN. THE BOOK OP DAYS. BENJAMIN FBANKLIN. JANUARY 6. (L-pipbuun, 01- STfocIftlj-llHg. {Old Christmas Day.) St Molanius. bishop, 490. St Nilammon, hermit. St Peter, abbot of St Austin's, Canterbury, 608. JBorn.— Richard II., King of England, 1366; Joan d'Arc, 1402; Peter Metastasio, poet, 1698; Benjamin Franklin, philosopher, Bosto/i, U.S., 1706; David Dale, philanthropist, 1739; George Thomas Doo, engraver, 1800. j)ie(l. — Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, mathematician, 16S9; John Dennis, critic, 1734; Madame d'Arblay (Frances Barney), novelist, 1840; James Smith, comic poet, 1840; Fanny Wright, lady politician, 1853. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.* ^Modern society lias felt as if there were some- tliing wanting in tlie character of Franklin ; yet what the man positively had of good about him was. beyond aU doubt, extremely good. Self- denial, energy, love of knowledge, sagacity to discern and earnestness to pursue what was calculated to promote happiness amongst mankind, scientific in- genuity, courage in the protection of patriotic interests against mis- rule — aU were his. How few men possess half so many high qualities ! It is an extremely characteristic circum- stance that, landing ;i ( Falmouth from a dan- gerous voyage, and going to church witli his son to return thank" s to Godfortheirdeliver- ance, he felt it as an oc- casion when a Catholic would have vowed t>> build a chapel to sonic saint : 'not being a Ca- | tholic,' said the philo- ' ; sopher, ' if I were 1 < i vowatalljitwouldbel ' build a lighthouse' [tlic article found chief! \ wanting towards th. end of their voyage]. ^^;^ss=5:^^^£iiiffc-. It is little known eenja:.i; that it was mainly by the advice of Franklin that the English govern- ment resolved to conqiier Canada, and for that purpose sent out Wolfe's expedition. While in our island at that time (1759), as agent for the colony of Pennsylvania, he made an ex- * Franklin is sometimes said to have been born on the 17th of January. He was, in reality, born on what was held at the time of birth as the 6th, being old style. Con- sidering that the day of the birth of remarkable men, as expressed in their own time, is that round which our asso- fciations arrange themselves, it is intended in this work to adhere to that date, m all cases where it is known. 58 cursion to Scotland, accompanied by his son. His reputation as a man of science had made him well known there, and he was accordingly re- ceived with distinction by Hume, Eobertson, Lord Kames, and other literary men of note, was made a doctor of St Andrew's University, and a bur- gess by the Town Council of Edinburgh. Franklin ]iaid a long visit to Lord Kames at his seat of Kames in Berwickshire, and when he canie away, his host and hostess gave him a convoy into the English border. Some months after, writing to his lordship from London, he said : ' How much more agreeable would our journey have been, if we could have enjoyed you as far as York ! We could have beguiled the way by discoursing on a thousand things that now we may never have an opportunity of considering together; for conversation warms the mind, enlivens the imagination, and is continually starting fresh game that is immediately piirsued and taken, and which would never have occurred in the duller intercourse of epistolary correspon- dence. So that when- ever I reflect on the great pleasure and ad- vantage I received from the free communication of sentiment in the con- versation we had at Kames, and in the agreeable little rides to the Tweedside, I shall ever regret our prema- ture parting.' ' Our conversation,' he added, ' until we came to York, was chiefly a recollection of what we had seenandheard, the pleasure we had en- joj-ed, and the kind- nesses we had received ,.<^ in Scotland, and how far that country had exceeded our expecta- tions. On the whole, I must say, I think the time we spent there I was six weeks of the I ffewses^happinesslhave ; ever met with in any ])art of my life ; and the agreeable and in- structive society we eiasTicJ found there in such plenty, has left so pleasing an impression on my memory, that, did not strong connections draw me elsewhere, I believe Scotland would be the country I should choose to spend the remain- der of my days in.' Soon after. May 3rd, 1760, Franklin commu- nicated to Lord Kames a plan he had formed to write a little book under the title of The Art of Virtue. ' Many people,' he said, ' lead bad lives that would gladly lead good ones, but do not know ]iow to make the change. They have fre- quently resolved and endeavoured it ; but in vain, because their endeavours have not been properly BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. JANUAHY 6. BENJAMIN FEANKLIN. conducted. To expect people to be good, to be just, to be temperate, &c., witliout shewing them how they slioidd become so, seems like the ineffectual charity mentioned by the Apostle, which consisted in saying to the hungry, the cold, and the naked, " Be ye fed, be ye warmed, be ye clothed," without shewing them how they should get food, fire, or clothing. ' Most people have naturally some virtues, but none have naturally all the virtues. ' To inquire those that are wanting, and secure what we require as well as those we have natu- rally, is the subject of an art. It isproperly an art, as painting, navigation, or architecture. If a man would become a painter, navigator, or architect, it is not enougli that he is advised to be one, that he is convinced by the arguments of his adviser that it would be for his advantage to be one, and that he resolves to be one ; but he must also be taught the j)rinciples of the art, be shewn all the methods of working, and how to acquire the habits of using properly all the instruments ; and thus regularly and gradually he arrives, by practice, at some perfection in the art. If he does not proceed thus, he is apt to meet with difficulties that might discourage him, and make him drop the pursuit. ' MjAri of Viy'tue has also its instruments, and teaches the manner of iising them. ' Christians are directed to have faith in Christ, as the effectual means of obtaining the change they desire. It may, when siifficiently strong, be effectual wdth many ; for a full opinion, that a teacher is infinitely wise, good, and powerful, and that he will certainly reward and punish the obedient and disobedient, must give great weight to his precepts, and make them mucli more at- tended to by his disciples. But many have this faith in so weak a degree, that it does not pro- duce the effect. Our Art of Virtue may, there- fore, be of great service to those whose faith is unhappily not so strong, and may come in aid of its weakness. Such as are naturally well-disposed, and have been so carefully educated as that good habits have been early established and bad ones prevented, have less need of this art ; but all may be more or less benefited by it.'* Between two men of such sentiments as Frank- lin and Lord Kames, thrown together for sis weeks, the subject of religious toleration we may well suppose to have been frequently under dis- cussion. Franklin communicated to his Scotch friend a small piece, of the nature of an apologue, designed to give a lesson of toleration, and which Kames afterwards published. It has often been reprinted as an original idea of the American philosoi)her ; but, in reality, he never pretended to anything more than giving it its literary style, and the idea can be traced back through a de- vious channel to Saadi, the Persian poet, who, after all, relates it as coming from another person. It Avas as follows : — ' 1. And it came to pass after these things, that Abraham sat in the door of his tent, about the going down of the sun. ' 2. And behold a man, bowed with age, came from the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff. * Sparkes's Life and Correspondence of FranJdin. 10 vols. 8vo. Philadelphia. Vol. ix. ' 3. And Abraham arose and met him, and said unto him, " Turn in, I j)ray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early on the morrow, and go on thy way." '4. But the man said, "Nay, for I will abide under this tree." ' 5. And Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he turned, and they went into the tent, and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and they did cat. '6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed not God, he said unto him, " Wherefore dost thou not worship the most high God, Creator of heaven and earth?" ' 7. And the man answered and said, " I do not worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I call iipon his name ; for I have made to myself a god which abideth alway in mine house, and pro- videth me with all things." ' 8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose and fell upon him, a.nd drove him forth with blows into the wilderness. ' 9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham, saying, " Abraham, where is the stranger? " ' 10. And Abraham answered and said, " Lord, he would not worship thee, neither would he call upon thy name ; therefore have I driven him out from before my face into the wilderness." '11. And God said, "Have I borne with him these hundred ninety and eight years, and nour- ished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion against me ; and couldst not thou, that art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night? " ' 12. And Abraham said, " Let not the anger of the Lord wax hot against his servant ; lo, I have sinned ; forgive me, I pray thee." ' 13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the wilderness, and sought diligently for the man and found him, and returned with him to the tent : and when he had entreated him kindly, he sent him away on the morrow with gifts.' That Franklin should have ascended from the condition of a journeyman compositor to be a PRINTING PRESS WORKED AT BY FRANKLIN IN LONDON. great philosopher and legislator, and 'to stand before kings,' is certainly one of the most inte- resting biographical facts which the eighteenth century presents. Without that frugal use of means, the want of which so signally keeps our toiling millions poor, it never could have been. 59 EETHEAT FEOM CATJBTJt. THE BOOK OF DAYS. RETREAT FROM CAUBUL. Of ever memorable value is the anecdote he tells of his practice in a Loudon print iui^-olliee. 'I drank onl^y -water,' says he ; ' tlie other workmen, near iifty in number, -were threat drinkers of beer. On one occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types iu each baud, when others carried but one' in both hands. They wondered to see that the Water American, as they called me, was stronger than themselves who drank strong beer. We had an alehouse boy, who always attended iu tlie house to supply the work- men. My companion at the press drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between break- fast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint iu the afternoon about six o'clock, and another when ho had done with his day's work. I thought it a detestable custom ; but it was necessary, he sup- posed, to drink strong beer that he might be strong to labour. I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the grain or tlour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it was made ; that there was more Hour in a pennyworth of bread ; and therefore, if he could eat that with a pint of water, it would give him more strength than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four or five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that vile liquor ; an expense I was free from. And thus these poor devils kept themselves always under.' THE RETREAT FROM CAUBUL, 1842. The British power went into AfFghanistan, in 1839, upon an unrighteous cause. The punish- ment which Providence, in the natural course of events, brings upon such errors, overtook it towards the close of 1841, and on the Gth of January it became a necessity that an army of about 4,500 men, with 12,000 camp followers, should commence a precipitate retreat from its Caubul cantonments, through a difficult country. Tinder frost and. snow, which it was ill-fitted to endure, and harassed by hordes of implacable enemies. The Noche Triste of Cortez's troops on their retirement from Mexico, the terrible retreat of Napoleon's army from Moscow, even the fearful scenes whicli attended the destruction of Jerusalem, scarcely afford a more distressing narrative of human woe. The first day's march took them five miles through the snow, which was in many places dyed with their blood. They had to bivouack in it, without shelter, and with scarcely any food, and next morning they re- sumed their journey, or rather flight, — a long confused line of soldiery mixed with rabble, camels and other beasts of burden, and ladies with their children ; while the native bands were continually attacking and plundering. The second evening saw them only ten miles advanced upon their fatal journey, and the night was again spent in the snow, which proved the winding- sheet of many before morning. It is believed that if they had started more promptly, and could have advanced more rapidly, the enemy, scarcely prepared to follow them, could not have proved so destructive. But the general — Elphinstone, — and other chief officers, were 60 tempted to lose time in the hope of negotiating with the hostile chiefs, and particularly Akbar- Khan, for a purchased safety. Unfortunately, the native chiefs had little or no control over tlieir followers. It was on tliis third day that they had to go through the celebrated Xoord- Caubul Pass. The force, with its followers, in a long disoi'dcrly string, struggled on through the narrow delile, suffering under a constant and deadly fire from tlie fanatical Ghilzyes, or falling under their knives in close encounter. Thus, or by falling exhausted in the snow, 3,000 are said to have perished. Another night of exposure, hunger, and exhaustion followed. Next day, the sadly reduced files were stayed for a while, to try another negotiation for safety. The ladies and the marriecl officers were taken under the protection of Akbar-Khan, and were thus saved. The remaining soldiery, and particidarly the Indian troops, were now parruysed with the effects of the cold, and scarcely able to handle or carry their arms. Many were butchered this day. They continued the march at night, in the hope of reaching Jugdulluck, and next day they still went on, doing their best to repel the enemy as they went. Reduced to a mere hand- ful, they still exhibited the devoted courage of British soldiers. While the wretched remnant halted here, the general and two other officers gave themselves up to Akbar-Khan, as pledges that Jellalabad would be delivered up for the purchase of safety to the troops. The arrange- ment only served to save the lives of those three officers. The subsequent day's march was still harassed by the natives, and at a barrier which had been erected in the Jugdulluck Pass, the wliole of the remainder were butchered, excepting about twenty officers and forty-five soldiers. After some further collisions with the foe, there came to be only six officers alive at a place about sixteen miles from Jellalabad. On the 13th of January, the garrison of that fortress saw a single man approaching their walls, mounted on a wretched little pony, and hanging exhausted upon its neck. He proved to be l)r Bryden, the only one of the force which left Caubul a week before, who had escaped to tell the tale. It is easy to shew how the policy of particular commanders had a fatal effect in bringing about this frightful disaster to the British power — how, with better management on their part, the results might have been, to some extent, otherwise ; but still the great fact remains, that a British army was where it ought never to have been, and of course exposed to dangers beyond those of fair warfare. An ancient Greek dramatist, in bring- ing such a tragedy before the attention of his audience, would have made the Chorus proclaim loudly the wrath of the gods. Ignorant men, of our own day, make comments not much different. The remark which a just philosophy makes on the subject is, tliat God has arranged that justice among men should have one set of effects, and injustice another. Where nations violate the Divine rule to do to others as they would have others to do to them, they lay themselves open to all the calamitous consequences which natur- ally flow from the act, just as surely as do individuals when they act m the same manner. TWELFTH-DAY. JANUAEY 6. TWBIiFTH-Diy. SThjclftlj-^ny. This day, called Twelfth-Day, as being in that number after Christmas, and Epiphany from the Greek 'E-Tncpdveia, signifying appearance, is a festival of the Church, in commemoration of the ]\Jan?fesfaiion of Christ to the Gentiles: more expressly to the three Magi, or Wise- Men of the East, who came, led by a star, to worship him immediately after his birth. (Matt. ii. 1-12.) The Epiphany appears to have been first ' ob- served as a separate feast in the year 813. Pope Julius I. is, however, reputed to have taught the Church to distinguish the Eeasts of the Nativity and Epiphany, so early as about the middle of the fourth century. The primitive Christians celebrated the Feast of the Nativity for twelve days, observing the first and last with great solemnity ; and both of these days were denomi- nated Epiphany, the first the greater Epiphany, from our Lord having on that day become Incar- nate, or made His arvjoearance in "the flesh;" the latter, the lesser Epiphany, from the three- fold manifestation of His Godhead — the first, by the appearance of the blazing star which con- ducted Melchior, Jasper, and Balthuzar, the three Magi, or wise men, commonly styled the three Kings of Cologne, out of the East, to worship the Messiah, and to offer him presents of " Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh " — Melchior the Gold, in testimony of his royalty as the pro- mised King of the Jews; Jasper the Frankincense, in token of his Divinity ; and Balthuzar the Myrrh, in allusion to the sorrows which, in the humiliat- ing condition of a man, our Eedeemer vouchsafed to take upon him : the second, of the descent of the Holy Ghost in the form of a Dove, at the Baptism : and the third, of the first miracle of our Lord turning water into wine at the marriage in Cana. iUl o'f which three manifestations of the Divine nature happened on the same day, though not in the same year. ' To render due honour to the memory of the ancient Magi, who are supposed to have been kings, the monarch of this country himself, either personally or through his chamberlain, offers annually at the altar on this day, Gold. Frank- incense, and Myrrh ; and the kings of Spam, where the Feast of Epiphany is likewise called the "Feast of the Kings," were accustomed to make the like offerings.' — Brady. _ In the middle ages, the worship by the Magi was celebrated by a little drama, called the Feast of the Star. 'Three priests, clothed as kings, with their servants carrying offerings, met from different directions before the altar. The middle one, who came from the east, pointed with his staff to a star. A dialogue then ensued ; and, after kissing each other, they began to sing, "Let us go and' inquire ; " after which the pre- centor began a responsory, " Let the Magi come." A procession then commenced; and as soon as it began to enter the nave, a crown, with a star resembling a cross, was lighted up, and pointed 61 TWELFTH-DAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. TWELFTH-DAT. out to the Magi, with, " Behold the Star in the East." This bcinj:; concluded, two priests stand- ing at each side of the altar, answered meekly, " We are those whoni you seek ; " and, drawing a curtain, shewed them a child, whom, falling down, they worshipped. Then the servants made the ofleriugs of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, which were divided among the priests. The Magi, meanwhile, continued ]n-aying till they dropped asleep ; when a boy, clothed in an alb, like an angel, addressed them with, " All things which the prophets said are fulfilled." The festival concluded with chanting services, &c. At Sois- sons, a rope was let down from the roof of the church, to which was annexed an iron circle having seven tapers, intended to represent Lnci- fer, or the morning star ; but this was not con- fined to the Feast of the Star.' — Fosbrokc's Antiquities, ii. 700. At Milan, in 1336, the Festival of the Three Kincfs was celebrated in a manner that brings forcibly before lis the tendency of the midcUe ages to fix attention on the historical externals of Christianity. The afliair was got up by the Preaching Friars. ' The three kings appeared, crowned, on three great horses richly habited, surrounded by pages, body guards, and an innu- merable retinue. A golden star was exhibited in the sky, going before them. They proceeded to the pillars of St Lawrence, where King Herod was represented with his scribes and wise men. The tlu-ee kings ask Herod where Christ should be born, and his wise men, having consulted their books, answer, at Bethlehem. On which the three kings, with their golden crowns, having in their hands golden cnps filled with frankincense, myrrh, and gold, the star going before, marched to the church of St Eustorgius, with all their attendants, preceded by trumpets, horns, asses, baboons, and a great variety of animals. In the church, on one side of the high altar, there was a manger with an ox and ass, and in it the infant Christ in the arms of his mother. Here the three kings offer Him gifts. The concourse of the people, of knights, ladies, and ecclesiastics, was such as was never before beheld.'* In its character as a popular festival, Twelfth- Day stands only inferior to Christmas. The leading object held in view is to do honour to the three wise men, or. as they are more gener- ally denominated, the three kings. It is a Chris- tian custom, ancient past memory, and probably suggested by a pagan custom, to indulge in a pleasantry called the Election of Kimjs hy IJeaiis.-f In England, in later times, a large cake was formed, with a bean inserted, and this was called Twelfth- Cake. The family and friends being assembled, the cake was divided by lot, and who- ever got the piece containmg the bean Avas ac- cepted as king for the day, and called King of the Bean. The importance of this ceremony in France, where the mock sovereign is named Le Roi de la Feve, is indicated by the proverbial * Warton's Ilistoi-y of English Poetry, quoting a Chronicle of Milan, by Gualvanei de la Flamma. t ' Some maintain it to have been derived from the custom observed by the Somali children, who, at the end of their Saturnalia, drew lots with beans, to see who would be king.' — Brady. 62 phrase for good luck, ' II a trouvo la feve au gateau,' He has found the bean in the cake. In Kome, they do not draw king and queen as in England, but indulge in a number of jocularities, very much for the amusement of children. Fruit- stalls and confectioners' shops are dressed up with great gaiety. A ridiculous figure, called Beflana, parades the streets, amidst a storm of popular wit and nonsense. The children, on going to bed, hang up a stocking, which the Beflana is found next morning to have filled with cakes and sweetmeats if they have been good, but with stones and dirt if they have been naughty. In England, it appears there was always a queen as well as a king on Twelfth-Night. A writer, speaking of the celebration in the south of England in 1774, says : ' After tea, a cake is pro- duced, with two bowls containing the fortunate chances for the different sexes. The host fiUs up the tickets, and the whole company, except the king and queen, are to be ministers of state, maids of honour, or ladies of the bed-chamber. Often the host and hostess, more by design than accident, become king and queen. According to Twelfth-Day law, each party is to support his character till midnight. In the sixteenth century, it would appear that some peculiar ceremonies followed the election of the king and queen. Barnaby Goodge, in his paraphrase of the curious poem of Nageorgus, The Po])ish Kingdom, 1570, states that the king, on being elected, was raised up with great cries to the ceding, where, with chalk, he inscribed crosses on the rafters to protect the house against evil spirits. The sketch on the opposite page is copied from an old French print, executed by J. Mariatte, representing Le Roi de la Feve (the King of the Bean) at the moment of his election, and pre2)aring to drink to the company. In France, this act on liis part was marked by a loud shout of ' Le Eoi boit ! ' (The king drinks,) from the parly assembled. A Twelfth-Day custom, connected with Paget's Bromley in Staffordshire, went out in the seven- teenth century. A man came along the village with a mock horse fastened to him, with which he danced, at the same making a snapping noise with a bow and arrow. He was attended by half-a-dozen fellow-villagers, wearing mock deers' heads, and displaying the arms of the several chief landlords of the town. This j)arty danced the Sai/s, and other country dances, to music, amidst the sympathy and applause of the multi- tude. There was also a huge pot of ale with cakes by general contribution of the village, out of the very surplus of which 'they not only repaired their church, but kept their poor too ; which charges,' quoth Dr Plot, ' are not now, perhaps, so cheerfully borne.' * On Twelfth-Night, 1606, Ben Jonson's masque of Hymen was performed before the Court ; and in 1613, the gentlemen of Gray's Inn were per- mitted by Lord Bacon to perform a Twelfth- Day masque at "Whitehall. In this masque the character of Baby Cake is attended by ' an * Natural Ilistory of Staffordshire, 1680, p. 434. TWELFTH-DAT. JANUAEY 6. TWELFTH-DAY. THE KING OF THE BEAN. uslier bearing a great cake with a bean and a pease.' On Twelfth-Day, 1563, Mary Queen of Scots celebrated the French pastime of the King of the Bean at Holyrood, but with a queen instead of a king, as more appropriate, in consideration of her- self being a female sovereign. The lot fell to tlic real queen's attendant, Mary Fleming, and the mistress good-naturedly arrayed the servant in her own robes and jewels, that she might duly sustain the mimic dignity in the festivities of the night. Tlie English resident, Randolph, -who was in love with Mary Beton, another of the queen's maids of honour, wrote in excited terms about this festival to the Earl of Leicester. ' Happy was it,' says he, ' unto this realm, that her reign endured no longer. Two such sights, in one state, in so good accord, I bebevc was never seen, as to behold two worthy queens pos- sess, without envy, one kingdom, both upon a day. I leave the rest to your lordship to be judged of. My pen staggereth, my hand faileth, further to write. . . . The queen of the bean was that day in a gown of cloth of silver ; her head, her neck, her shoulders, the rest of her whole body, so beset with stones, that more in our whole jewel- house were not to be found. . . . The cheer was great. I never found myself so happy, nor so well treated, until that it came to the point that the old queen [Mary] herself, to show her mighty power, contrary unto the assurance granted me by the younger queen [Mary Fleming], drew me into the dance, which part of the play I could with good will have spared unto your lordship, as much fitter for the purpose.' * Charles I. had his masque on Twelfth-Day, and the Queen hers on the Shrovetide following, the expenses exceeding £2000 ; and on Twelfth- Night, 1633, the Queen feasted the King at Somerset House, and presented a pastoral, in which she took part. Down to the time of the Civil Wars, the feast was observed with great splendour, not only at Court, but at the Inns of Coui't, and the Univer- sities (where it was an old custom to choose the king by the bean in a cake), as well as in private mansions and smaller households. Then, too, we read of the English nobility keeping Twelfth-Night otherwise than with cake and characters, by the diversion of blowing up pasteboard castles ; letting claret flow like blood, out of a stag made of paste ; the castle bombarded from a pasteboard ship, with cannon, in the midst of which the company pelted each other with egg-shells filled with rose-water ; and large pies were made, filled with live frogs, which hopped and flew out, upon some curious person lifting up the lid. Twelfth-Night grew to be a Court festival, in wliich gaming was a costly feature. Evelyn tells us that on Twelfth-Night, 1662, according to custom, his Majesty [Charles II.] opened the revels of that night by throwing the dice himself in the Privy Chamber, where was a table set on purpose, and lost his £100. [The year before * Strickland's Lives of the Queens of Scotland, iv. 20. 63 TWELFTH-DAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. TWELFTH-DAY. he won £1500.] The ladies also played very deep. Evelyn came awav when the Duke of Orniond had won aboiit ilOOO. and left them still at passas^e, eards, &e., at other tables. The Eev.^ Henry Teonue. chaplain of one of Charles's ships-of-war, describes TwelFth-Isight on board: '\Vee had a great kake made, in Avhich was put a beane for the kint;, a pease for the queen, a cloave for the knave, &c. The kake was cut into several pieces in the threat cabin, and nil put into a napkin, out of which every one took his piece as out of a lottery ; then each piece is broaken to see what was in it, which caused much laughter, and more to see us tumble one over the other in the cabin, by reason of the ruir weather.' The celebrated Lord Peterborough, then a youth, was one of the party on board this ship, as Lord Mordaunt. The Lord INIayor and Aldermen and the guilds of London iised to go to St Paul's on Twelfth- Day, to hear a sermon, which is mentioned as an old custom in the early part of Elizabeth's reign. A century ago, the king, preceded by heralds, pursuivants, and the Knights of the Garter, Thistle, and Bath, in the collars of their respective orders, went to the Eoyal Chapel at St James's, and otFered gold, myrrh, and frankincense, in imitation of the Eastern Magi offering to our Saviour. Since the illness of George III., the procession, and even the personal appearance of the monarch, have been discontimxed. Two gen- tlemen from the Lord Chamberlain's office now appear instead, attended by a box ornamented at top with a spangled star, from which they take the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and place them on an alms-dish held forth by the officiat- ing^ priest. in the last century, Ticclfth-Kir/Iit Cards re- presented ministers, maids of honour, and other attendants of a court, and the characters were to be supported throughout the night. John Britton, in his Auiohiograjjhy, tells us he 'sug- gested and wrote a series of Twelfth-Night Characters, to be printed on cards, placed in a bag, and drawn out at parties on the memor- able and merry evening of that ancient festival. They were sold in small packets to pastrycooks, and led the way to a custom which annually grew to an extensive trade. For the second year, mj' pen-and-ink characters were accompanied by prints of the different personages by Cruikshank (father of the inimitable George), all of a comic or ludicrous kind.' Such characters are still printed. The celebration of Twelfth-Day with the costly and elegant Twelfth-cake has much declined within the last half-century. Formerly, in Lon- don, the confectioners' shops on this day were entirely filled with Twelfth-cakes, ranging in price from several guineas to a few shillings ; the shops were tastefully illuminated, and decorated with artistic models, transparencies, &c. We remember to have seen a huge Twelfth-cake in tlie form of a fortress, with sentinels and flags ; the cake being so large as to fill two ovens in baking. One of the most celebrated and attractive displays was that of Birch, the confectioner, 64 No. 15, Cornhill, probably the oldest shop of its class in the meti-opolis. This business was established in the reign of King George I., by a Mr Horton, who Avas succeeded by Mr Lucas Birch, who, in his turn, was succeeded by his son, Mr Samuel Birch, born in 1757 ; he was many years a member of the Common Council, and was elected alderman of the ward of Candlewick. He was also colonel of the City Militia, and served as Lord Mayor in 1815, the year of the battle of Waterloo. In his mayoralty, he laid the first stone of the London Institution ; and when Chan- trey's marble statue of George III. was inaugu- rated in the Council Chamber, Guildhall, the in- scription was written by Lord Mayor Birch. He possessed considerable literary taste, and wrote poems and musical dramas, of which the Adopted C/(/W remained a stock piece to our time. The alderman used annually to send, as a present, a Twelfth-cake to the Mansion House. The upper J_^ II n If " r- 3;; XO. 15, COnXIIILL. portion of the house in Cornhill has been rebuilt, but the ground-floor remains intact, a curious spe- cimen of the decorated shop-front of the last cen- tury, and here are preserved two door-plates, inscribed, ' Birch, Successor to Mr Horton,' which are 140 years old. Alderman Birch died in 1840, having been succeeded in the business in Cornhill in iSSG by the present proprietors. Ring and Brymer. Dr Kitchiner extols the soups of Birch, and his skill has long been famed in civic banquets. We have a Twelfth-Night celebration recorded in theatrical history. Baddeley, the comedian (who had been cook to Foote), left, by will, money to provide cake and wine for the performers, in the green-room at Drury-lane Theatre, on Twelfth- Night; but the bequest is not now observed in this manner. THE CARNIVAL. JANUARY 6. RnYTHMICAL PUNS. CTIjc C'lmubul. The period of Carnival — named as beincj car- vivale, a farewell to llesli — is well known ns a time of merry-making and pleasure, indnlgod in in Roman Catliolic countries, in anticipation of the abstemious period of Lent: it begins at Epiphany, and ends on Ash "Wednesday. Selden remarks : ' '\\Tiat the Church debars one day, slie gives us leave to take out in another. First, we fast, then we feast ; first, there is a Carnival, then a Lent.' In these long revels, we trace some of the licence of the Saturnalia of the Christian Romans, who could not forget their pagan festivals. Milan, Rome, and Naples Mere celebrated for their carnivals, but they were carried to their highest perfection at Venice. Bishop HaU, in his Triumphs of Home, thus describes the Jovial Carnival of that city : ' Every man cries Seiolta, letting himself loose to the maddest of merri- ments, marching wildly up and down in all forms of disguises ; each man striving to outgo others in strange pranks of humorous debauchedness, in which even those of the holy order are wont to be allowed their share ; for, howsoever it was by some sullen authority forbidden to clerks and votaries of any kind to go masked and misguised in those seemingly abusive solemnities, yet more favourable construction hath offered to make them believe it was chiefly for their sakes, for the refreshment of their sadder and more restrained spirits, that this free and lawless festivity was taken up.' In modern Rome, the masquerading in the streets and all the out-of-door amusements are limited to eight days, during which the gro- tesque maskers pelt each other with, sugar- plums and bouquets. These are poured from baskets from the balconies down upon the maskers in carriages and afoot ; and they, in their turn, pelt the company at the windows : the confetti are made of chalk or flour, and a hundredweight is ammunition for a carriage-full of roisterers. The Races, however, are one of the most strik- ing out-of-door scenes. The horses are without riders, but have spurs, sheets of tin, and all sorts of things hung about them to urge them onward ; across the end of the Piazza del Popolo is stretched a rope, in a line with which the horses are brought up ; in a second or two, the rope is let go, and away the horses fly at a fearful rate down the Corso. which is crowded with people, among whom the pli;nging and kicking of the steeds often produce serious damage. Meanwhile, there is the Church's Carnival, or the Carnivale Sandificato. There are the regular spiritual exercises, or retreats, which the Jesuits and Passionists give in their respective houses for those who are able to leave their homes and shut themselves up in a monasteiy during the whole ten days ; the Via Crucis is practised in the Coliseum every afternoon of the Carnival, and this is followed by a sermon and benediction ; and there arc similar devotions in the churches. In the colleges are given ])lays, the scenery, drops, and acting being better than the average of public performances ; and between the acts 5 are ])layed solos, duets, and overtures, by the students or their friends. The closing revel of the Carnival is the Mocco- leiti, when the sport consists in the crowd carry- ing lighted tapers, and trying to put out eacli other's taper with a handkerchief or towel, and shouting Sens moccolo. M. Dumas, in his Count of Monte Christo, thus vividly describes this strange scene : ' The moccolo or moecoletti are candles, which vary in size from the paschal taper to the rushlight, and cause the actors of the great scene which terminates the Carnival two different subjects of anxiety : 1st, how to preserve their moecoletti lighted ; secondly, how to extinguish the moeco- letti of others. The moccolo is kindled by ap- proaching it to a light. But who can describe the thousand means of extinguishing the moeco- letti ? The gigantic bellows, the monstrous extin- guishers, the superhuman fans ? The night was rapidly approaching : and, already, at the shrill cry of Moecoletti ! repeated by the shrill voices of a thousand vendors, two or three stars began to twinkle among the crowd. This was the signal. In about ten minutes, fifty thousand lights fluttered on every side, descending from the Palais de Venise to the Plaza del Popolo, and mounting from the Plaza del Popolo to the Palais de Venise. It seemed ike fete of Jack-o'-Lanterns. It is impossible to form any idea of it without having seen it. Suppose all the stars descended from the sky, and mingled in a wild dance on the surface of the earth ; the whole accompanied by cries such as are never heard in any other part of the world. The facchino follows the prince, the transtavere the citizen: every one blowing, extinguishing, re-lighting. Had old iEolus appeared at that moment, he would have been proclaimed king of the moccoli, and Aquilo the heir-presumptive to the throne. This flaming race continued for two hours : the Rue du Cour was light as day, and the features of the spectators on the third and fourth stories were plainly visible. Suddenly the bell sounded which gives the signal for the Carnival to close, and at the same instant all the moecoletti were extin- guished as if by enchantment. It seemed as though one immense blast of wind had extin- guished them all. No sound was audible, save that of the carriages which conveyed the masks home ; nothing was visible save a few lights that gleamed behind the windows. The Carnival was over.' In Paris, the Carnival is principally kept on the three days preceding Ash Wednesday ; and upon the last day, the procession of the Ba;uf-ffra.i, or Government prize ox, passes through the streets ; then all is quiet until the Thursday of Mid-Lent, or Mi-eareme, on which day only the revelry breaks out wilder than ever. KIIYTKMICAL PUNS ON NAMES. One of the best specimens of this kind of com- position is the poem said to have been addressed by Shaks])eare to the AVarwickshire beauty, Ann liatliaway, whom he afterwards married. Though his biographers assert that not a fragment of the G5 KIlYTUillCAL rUXS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EnYTHUICAL PUNS. Bai-d of Avon's poetry on tliis lady lias been res- cued from oblivion, yet, that Shalcspcare had an early disposition to write sueli verses, may be reasonably concluded from a passage m Love s Labour Lost, in uhleh lie says : ' Never durst poet teach a pen to write,^ _ ^ Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs. The lines, whether Avritten by Shalcspeare or uot, exhibit a clever play upon words, and are inscribed : 'TO THE IDOL OF MY EYE, AND DELIGHT OF MY HEART, ANX HATHAWAY. Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng. With love's sweet notes to grace your song, To pierce the heart \ni\\ thrilling lay, Jjisteu to mine Ann Hathaway ! She hath a way to sing so clear, Phoebus might wondering stop to hear. To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, And Nature charm, Ann hath a Avay ; She hath a way, Ann Hathaway ; To breathe delight. Aim hath a way. When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth Do soil and bite fair worth and truth. And merit to distress betray. To soothe the heart Ann hath a Avay. She hath a Avay to chase despair. To heal all grief, to cure all care. Turn fonlesl night to fairest day. Thou know'st, fond heart. Aim hath a way ; She hath a way, Ann Hathavay ; To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way. Talk not of gems, the orient list. The diamond, topaze, amethyst. The emerald mild, the ruby gay ; Talk of my gem, Ann Hathaway ! She hath a way, with her bright eye, Their various lustre to defy, — The jewels she, and the fod they. So sweet to look Ann hath a way ; She hath a way, Ann Hathaway ; To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way. But were it to my fancy given To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven ; For though a mortal made of clay, Angels must love Ann HathaAvay; She" hath a way so to control. To rapture the imprisoned soul. And sweetest heaven on earth cbsplay, That to be heaven Ann hath a way ; She hath a Avay, Ann HathaAvay ; To be heaven's self, Ann hath a way ! ' When James I. visited the house of Sir Thomas Pope in Oxfordshire, the knight's in- fant daughter was presented to the king, with a piece of paper in her hands, bearing these lines : ' See ! this little mistress here Did never sit in Peter's chair. Neither a triple crown did wear ; And yet she is a Pope ! No benefice she ever sold, Nor did cbspense Avith sin for gold ; She hardly is a fortnight old. And yet she is a Pope ! 66 No king her feet did ever kiss. Or liad from her Avorse looks than tliis ; Nor (lid she CA^er hope To saint one with a rope, And yet she is a Pope ! ' ' A female Pope ! " you '11 say — " a second Joan ! " No, sm-e — she is Pope Innocent, or none. ' The following on a lady rejoicing in the name of Eain is not unworthy of a place here : ' Whilst shivering beaux at weather rail, Of frost, and suov/, and Avind, and hail, And heat, and cold, complain, My steadier mind is always bent On one sole object of content — I ever wish for Ptain ! Hymen, thy votary's prayer attend. His anxious hope and suit befriend, Let him not ask in vain ; His thirsty soul, his parched estate, His glowing breast commiserate — In pity give him Ilain ! ' Another amorous rhymester thus Avrites : ' ON A YOUNG LADY NAMED CARELESS. Careless by name, and Careless by nature ; Careless of shape, and Careless of feature. Careless in di-ess, and Careless in air ; Careless of riding, in coach or in chair. Careless of love, and Careless of hate ; Careless if crooked, and Careless if straight. Careless at table, and Careless in bed ; Careless if maiden, not Careless if Aved. Careless at church, and Careless at play ; Careless if company go, or they stay. E'en Careless at tea, not minding chit-chat ; So Careless ! she's Careless for this or for that. Careless of all love or Avit can propose ; She's Careless — so Careless, there's nobody knows. Oh ! how I coidd love thee, thou dear Careless thing ! (Oh, happy, thrice happy ! I 'd envy no king.) Were you Carefid for once to return me my love, I 'd care not hoAV Careless to others you 'd prove. I then should be Careless how Careless you were ; And the more Careless you, still the less I shoidd care.' Thomas Longfellow, landlord of the ' Golden Lion ' inn at Brecon, must have pulled a rather long face, when he observed the following lines, written on the mantelshelf of his coffee-room : ' Tom Longfellow's name is most justly his due : Long his neck, long his bid, Avhich is very long too ; Long the time ere your horse to the stable is led. Long before he 's rubbed down, and much longer till fed; Long indeed may you sit in a comfortless room, Tni'from kitchen long dirty yom- dinner shall come : Long the often-told tale that your host wiU relate, Long his face Avhde complaining how long people eat ; Long may Longfellow long ere he see me again — Long 'twiU be ere I long for Tom Longfellow's inn.' Nor has the House of Lords, or even the Church, escaped the pens of irreverent rhyming punsters. When Dr Goodenough preached before the Peers, a wag wrote : ' 'Tis well enough, that Goodenough Before the Lords should preach ; For, sure enough, they're bad enough He undertakes to teach. ' iMiYTniiiCAL ruxs. JANUAEY FENELON. Again, when Arclibishop Moore, djnng, was succeeded by Dr Manners Sutton, the following lines were circulated : ' What say you ? the Archbishop 's dead ? A loss indeed ! — Oh, on his head May Heaven its blessings pour I But if with such a heart aud mind. In Manners we his equal liud. Why shoidd we wish for M-ore ? ' Our next example is of a rather livelier descrij)- tiou : ' At a tavern one night, Messrs More, Sti-auge, and Wright Met to driidc and their good thoughts exchange. Says More, "Of us three, The whole will agree, There's only one knave, and that's Strange." "Yes," says Strange, rather sore, " I 'ni siu'e there 's one More, A most terrible kuave, and a bite. Who cheated his mother. His sister, and brother." " Oh yes," repHed More, " that is Wright." ' Wright again comes in very appropriately iu these lines written ' ON MEETING AN OLD GENTLEMAN" NAMED WRIGHT. What, Wright alive ! I thought ere this That he was in the realms of bliss ! Let us not say that Wright is -wTong, Merely for holding out so long ; But ah ! 'tis clear, though we 're bereft Of many a friend that Wright has left. Amazing, too, in such a case. That Wright aud left should thus change place ! Not that I 'd go such lengths as quite To tliink him left because he 's Wright : But left he is, we plainly see. Or Wright, we know, he could not be : For when he treads death's fatal shore, We feel that Wright will be no more. He 's, therefore, Wright whde left ; but, gone, Wright is not left : and so I 've done. ' When Sir Thomas More was Chancellor, it is said that, by his unremitting attention to the duties of his high office, all the litigation in the Court of Chancery was brouglit to a conclusion in his lifetime ; giving rise to the following epigram : ' When More some years had Chancellor been. No more suits did remain. The same shall never more be seen, Till More be there again.' More has always been a favourite name with the punsters — they have even followed it to the tomb, as is shown in the following epitaph in St Ijcnet's Churchyard, Paul's AVJiarf, London : ' Here lies one More, and no more than he. One More and no more ! how can that be ? Why, one More and no more may well lie here alone ; But here lies one More, and that's more than one.' Punning epitaphs, however, arc not altogether rarities. Tlie following was in8cril:)cd in Peter- borough Cathedral to the memory of Sir llichard Worme : ' Does worm eat Worme ? Knight Wonne this truth couhrms ; For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. Does Worme eat worm ? Sure Worme will this deny ; For worms with Worme, a dish for Worme don't lie. 'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms 'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.' In the churchyard of Barro-upon-Soar, in Leicestershire, there is another punning epitaph on one Cave : ' Here, in this grave, there lies a Cave : We call a cave a grave. If cave be grave and grave be Cave, Then, reader, judge, I crave. Whether doth Cave lie hero in grave, Or grave here lie iu Cave : If grave in Cave here buried lie. Then, grave, where is thy victory ? Go, reader, and report, here lies a Cave, Who conquers death, and buries his own grave.' JANUARY r. St Luclan, of Antioch, priest and martyr, 312. St Cedd, bishop of London, 7th century. St Thillo, 702. St Ken- tigerna, widow, 728. St Aldric, bishop of ]\Ians, 856. St Canut, 1171. St Lucian, whose name occurs in the calendar of the Church of England on the 8th of January, being the fii'st lloman priest who occurs and is retained there, was a learned Syrian who busied himself in revising the Holy Scriptures — was for a while disaffected to ortliodox doctrine, but after- wards conformed to it, and finally died at Nico- media, after a long imprisonment. St Cedd was an Anglo-Saxon saint, who took a prominent part in Christianising his hitherto heathen countrymen in the midland districts of England. He long served God in the monastery of Lindisfarne, and afterwards was appointed bishop of the East Saxons. Amongst his noted acts was the building of a monastery at Tilbury, near the mouth of the Thames. Born.— Robert Nicoll, poet, 1814. 2>/c(^.— Fenelou de la Motlie, 1715 ; Allan Eamsay, the Scottish poet, 1757 ; J. H. Frere, poet, 184G. FENELON. Francois dc Salignac de la Mothe Fenelon was born at Perigord, in 1651. He preached a sermon at the early age of fifteen, before a select assem- bly at Paris • but his uncle, the Marquis de Fenelon, fearing that the jn-aises of the world would make the boy vain, caused him to enter the seminary of St Sulpice, where he remained several years and took orders. He was sent by Louis XIV. to Poitou, to convert the Protestants, when he nobly refused the aid of dragoons, relying solely on his powers of persuasion. He was appointed tutor to the young Duke of Burgundy, and in five years Louis made him Archbishop of Cambray. Thence began his troubles : he was suspected of favouring the doctrines of the 67 ST DISTAFF S DAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST DISTAFF S DAT. Qiiiotists, aucl upon his refusing to condemn them, ]5ossuet denounced him to the kiiig us a heretic, and he was eventually banished irom the court ; he, however, signed a recavilalion, and would have been restored to roj'al favour, had not his celebrated romance of Tch'maquc, which he had written some j-ears before, been published against his will, through the treachery of a servant. Louis suspected several passages in this work to be directed against himself; it was suppressed in France, but rapidly circulated in Holland ; and perha]is there is no book in the French language which has been more read. It is. at this daj% a class-book in almost every Euro- pean school. His work on Female Education, published in 1GS8, pi'oceeds upon the imiformly indulgent theory, — teaching without tears. He wrote his DiaJogacs of the l)cad for the use of his pupil, the Duke of Burgundy : his noble zeal in not sparing the vices of kings shines through- out the Avork. Ilis political opinions were liberal ; and his acts of benevolence were munificent : in the j^ear 1709 he fed the French army at his own expense. SI Jitslnff's JlajT. As the first free day after the twelve by which Christmas was formerly celebrated, the 7th of January was a notable one among our ancestors. They jocularly called it St Distaff" s Daj/, or JSoci- Day, because by women the rock or distaff was then resumed, or proposed to be so. The duty seems to have been considered a dubious one, and when it was complied with, the plough- men, who on their part scarcely felt called upon on this day to resume work, made it their sport to set the flax a-burning ; in requital of which prank, the maids soused the men from the water-pails. Herrick gives us the popular ritual of the day in some of his cheerful stanzas : ' ST distaff's day ; OR, THE JIOEROW AFTKR TWELFTH-DAY. Partly work and partly play You must on St Distaff's Day : From the plough soon free yt)iir team ; Then come home and fotlier them : If the maids a-sjiinuing go, Bm-n the flax and fire the tow. Bring in pails of water then, Let the maids hewash the men. Give St Distaff all the right : Then bid Christmas sport good uight, And next morrow every one To his own vocation.' This mirthful observance recalls a time when spinning was the occupation of almost all women who had not anything else to do, or during the intervals of other and more serious work— a cheering resource to the solitary female in all ranks of life, an cnlivcnment to every fireside scene. To spin — how essentially was the idea at one time associated with the female sex ! even to that extent, that in England spinster was a recog- nised legal term for an unmarried woman— the spear side and the distaff side were legal terms to distinguish the inheritance of male from that of female children— and the distaff became a 68 -^ s3nionym for woman herself : thus, the French proverb was : ' The crown of France never falls to the distaff.' Now, through the change wrought by the organised industries of Manchester and Glasgow, the princess of the fairy tale who was destined to die by a spindle piercing her hand, might wander from the Land's End to John o' Groat's House, and never encounter an article of the kind, unless in an archaeological museum. Mr .Tohn Yonge Akerman, in a paper read before the Society of Antiquaries, has carefully traced the memorials of the early use of the dis- tafl' and spindle on the monuments of Egypt, in ancient mytJiology and ancient literature, and everywhere shews these implements as the in- signia of womanhood. We scarcely needed such proof for a fact of which Ave have assurance in the slightest refiection on human needs and means, and the natural place of woman in human society. The distaff and spindle must, of course, have been coeval with the first efforts of our race to frame textures for the covering of their persons, for they are the very simplest arrange- ment for the formation of thread : the distaff, whereon to hang the flax or tow — the spindle, a loaded pin or stick, whereby to effect the twist- ing ; the one carried under the arm, the other dangling and turning in the fingers below, and forming an axis round Avhicli to Avind parcels of the thread as soon as it was made. Not wonder- ful is it that Solomon should speak of woman as laying her hands to the distafl (Prov. xxxi. 19), that the implement is alluded to by Homer and Herodotus, and that one of the oldest of the my- thological ideas of Greece represented the Three Fates as spinning the thread of human destiny. Not A^ery surprising is it that otir OAvn Chaucer, five hundred years ago, classed this art among the natural endowments of the fair sex in his ungallaut distich : ' Deceit, Avcepiug, spinning, God hath given To Avomeu kindly, Avhile they may live. ' It was admitted in those old days that a woman could not quite make a livelihood by spinning ; but, says Anthony Fitzliei'bert, in his Bolcc of Siishandrie, ' it stoppeth a gap,' it saveth a woman from being idle, and the product , was needful. No rank was above the use of the spindle. Homer's princesses only had them gilt. The lady carried her distaff in her gemmed girdle, and her spindle in her hand, when she Avent to spend half a day Avith a neighbouring friend. The farmer's Avife had her maids about her in the evening, all spinning. So lately as Burus's time, Avhen lads and lasses came together to spend an evening in social glee, each of the latter brought her spinning apparatus, or ruck,* and the assemblage Avas called a rochincj : ' On Fasteu's eve we had a roctinr/.^ It Avas doubtless the same with Horace's t(xor Sahina, perusta solihus, as with Burns's bonnie Jean. The ordinary spindle, throughout all times, Avas a turned pin of a fcAv inches in length, having a nick or hook at the small and iipper end, by which to fasten the thread, and a load of * From the German, rocken. ST DISTAFF S DAY. JANIIAEY 7. ST DISTAFF S DAY some sort at the lower eud to make it hang rightly. In very early times, and in such rude nations as the Laps, till more recent times, the load was a small perforated stone, many examples of which (called whorls) are preserved in anti- quarian museums. It would seem from the ]^]gyptian monuments as if, among those people, the whorl had been carried on the top. Some important improvements apiiear to have been made in the distaft" and spindle. In Stow's Chronicle, it is stated : ' About the 20th year of Henry VIII., Anthony Bonvise, an Italian, came to this land, and taught English people to spin with a distaff, at which time began the making of Devonshire kersies and Coxall clothes.' Again, Aubrey, in his NaturallLifitorij of WiUshirc, says : ' The art of spinning is so much improved within these last forty years, that one pound of wool makes twice as much cloath (as to extent) as it did before the Civill Warres.' SPIXXIXG WITH THE DISTAFI'". It is hard to say when the spinning-whccl superseded the simpler process of the distalF and spindle. The Avheel is stated, in the Dictionnaire des Orifjines, to have been invented by a citizen of Brunswick in 1533 ; three years bei'ore was printed the Dictionary of Palsgrave, wherein we find the phrase, 'I spynnc upon a rock,' rendered ' Je file au rouet.' We have, however, evidence, in a manuscript in the British Museum, written early in the four- teenth century, of the use of a spinning-wheel at that date : herein are several representations of a woman spinning with a wheel : she stands at her work, and the wheel is moved with her i-ight hand, while with her left she twirls the spindle : this is the wheel called a torn, the term for a spinning-wheel still used in some districts of England. The spinning-wheel said to have been invented in 1533 was, doubtless, that to which women sat, and which was worked with the feet. Spinning with the wheel was common with the recluses in England : Aubrey tells us that Wilt- shire was full of religious houses, and that old Jacques ' could see from his house the nuns of Saint Mary's (juxta Kington) come forth into the Nym])h Hay with their rocks and wheels to spin, and with their sewing work.' And in his MS. Natural History of Wiltshire, Aubrey says : ' In the old time they used to spin with rocks ; in Staffordshire, they use them still.' The change from the distaff and spindle to the spinning-wheel appears to have been almost coincident with an alteration in, or modification of, our legal phraseology, and to have abrogated the use of the word spinster when applied to single women of a certain rank. Coke says : ' Generosus and Gcnerosa are good additions : and, if a gentlewoman bo named spinster in any original writ, etc., appeale, or indictmente, she may abate and quash the same ; for she hath as good right to that addition as Baronesse, Vis- countesse, Marchionesse, or Dutchesse have to theirs.' Blount, in his Law Dictionary, saj^s of spinster : ' It is the addition usually given to all unmarried women, from the Viscount's daughter downward.' In his GlossograpMa, he says of spinster: 'It is a term or addition in our law dialect, given in evidence and writings toafenwie sole, as it were calling her spinner : and this is the only addition for all immarried women, from the Viscount's daughter downward.' ' I am unable ' (says Mr Akerman) ' to trace these distinctions to their source, but they are too remarkable, as indicating a great change of feeling among the upper classes in the sixteenth century, to be passed unnoticed. May we sup- pose that, among other causes, the artof j)riuting had contributed to bring about this change, affording employment to women of condition, who now devoted themselves to reading instead of applying themselves to the primitive occupa- tion of their graudmothcrs ; and that the wheel and the distaif being left to humbler hands, the time-honoured name of spinster was at length considered too homely for a maiden above the common rank. Before the science of the moderns banished the spinning-wheel, some extraordinary feats were accomplished with it. Thus, in the year 1745, a woman at East Dereham, in JSTorfolk, spun a single pound of wool into a thread of 8-i,000 yards in length, wanting only 80 yards of 48 miles, which, at the above period, was considered a circumstance of suilicient curiosity to merit a place in the Proceedings of the Ivoyal Society. Since that time, a young lady of jSTorwich has spun a pound of combed wool into a thread of 108,000 yards ; and she actually produced from the same weight of cotton a thread of 203,000 yards, eciual to upwards of 115 miles : this last Ihread, if woven, would produce about 20 yards of yard-wide muslin. The spinning-wheel has almost left us — with the lace-pillow, the hour-glass, and the horn- book ; but not so on the Continent. ' The art of spinning, in one of its simplest and most primitive forms, is yet pursued in Italy, where the country- women of Caia still turn the sjiindle, unrestrained by that ancient rural law which forbade its use without doors. The distaff has outlived the consular fasces, and survived the conquests of the Goth and the Uun. But rustic hands alone now sway the sceptre of Tanaquil, and all but the peasant disdain a practice which once beguiled the leisure of high-born dames.' (39 SERMON TO THE JEWS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. ^cvmou ia .the Ictus. 7tli Januaiy IG 15, Mr Jolm Evclj^n Aras pre- sent at !i ]ieculiar coromoiiy wliich sccnv^s to luivc boini of annual occurrence at llorac. It was a sermon preacliecl to a compulsory con,s;rcgation of Jews, with a view to their convci'sion. Mr ]"]velyn says : ' They are constrained to sit till the hour is done, but it is with so much malice in their countenances, spittino', liummincf, cou'j^h- inj^, and motion, that it is almost impossible tlicy shoidd hear a word from the ]3i'eachcr. A con- version is very rare.' * (Ealtlc iit |[auuariT. Worthy Thomas Tusser, who, in Queen Mary's time, wrote a doifgrcl code of agriculture under the name of Five Jlnndrccl Points of Good Hits- handrt/,\ recommends the farmei", as soon as Christmas observances are past, to begin to attend carefully to his stock. ' T^Tio Loth liy his calf aud liis lamb will be known, ^lay well kill a ueat and a sheep of his own ; And he that can rear up a pig in his house, Hath cheaper his bacon and sweeter his souse. ' He urges the gatliering up of dung, the mending of hedges, and the storing of fuel, as employ- ments for this month. The scarcity in those days of fodder, especially when frost lasted long, he reveals to us by his direction that all trees should be pruned of their superfluous boughs, that the cattle might browse upon them. The myrtle and ivy were the wretched fare he pointed to for the sheep. The homely verses of this old poet give us a lively idea of the difficul- ties of carrjnng cattle over the winter, before the days of field turnips, and of the miserable expedients which were had recourse to, in order to save the poor creatures from absolute starva- tion : ' From Christmas till ]\Iay be well entered in. Some cattle wax faint, and look poorly and thin ; And chiefly when prime grass at first doth appear, Then most is the danger of all the whole year. Take verjuice and heat it, a pint for a cow, Buy salt, a haudfid, to rub tongue ye wot how : That done with the salt, lot hei- drink off the rest ; This many times raiseth the feeble up beast.' CoumdioiT of ^isfant gigcs bjr tbc "^'xk^ of Inbibibuals. The shortness at once and speed of human life are brought strongly before our minds when Ave cast the simplest look back upon our own career, find ourselves grandfathers so long before what appears the proper time, and finally discover that we are about to leave the world with not half of our plans and wishes accomplished. The matter IS also very pointedly illustrated by the great changes which every one finds in the personnel of his surrounding world every ten years or so ; * Evelyn's Diary, i. p. 136. t Reprint by Lackington, Allen and Co., 1812. 70 the boys become men, the little girls now reckon- ing each their two or three babies, the matronly hostesses aa'Iio used to sit at the heads of hospit- able tables now retired into (piiet dowagerhood, the vigorous mature men now becoming shaky and unfit for business, the old and venerable now to be found only in the clmrchj-ard ! On the other hand, one sometimes get an exhilaration as to human life and his own individual pros- pects, by instances of lives at once remarkably protracted and attended by singular health and vigour. To find a Brougham at eighty -two heading a great social gathering like that which took place at Glasgow in September 1860, or a Lyndhurst at eighty-eight pouring out the words of experience and sagacity in the House of Lords for four hours at a time, is felt by all younger persons as a moral glass of champagne. The day looks brighter by our even hearing such a fact alluded to. And the reason obviously is that we get from such facts a conviction of pleasant possi- bilities for ourselves. We all feel that such may, in favouring circumstances, be our own case. It seems to imply that Time is, after all, not so deadly an enemy to us as he is generally repre- sented : if Ave use him well, he will use us Avell. There is, moreover, a spirit in man which gives him the desire and the power to resist the influ- ence of sui-rounding agencies. We delight to brave cold, hunger, fatigue, and danger. The unconquerable Avill joyfully hardens itself to throAV off the common eifects of life's many evils. It is a joy to this spirit to find that some valorous souls can and do live on, and on, and on, so long, seeming as if they had acquired some mastery over fate itself — that Power — ' nil miser antis Orci,' — before which, alas, we must all fall sooner or later. There is, we must admit, a limit to this satis- faction ; for when life becomes in any instance protracted to a decidedly extraordinary extent, the individual necessarily feels himself amongst strangers — perhaps helplessly dependent on them — the voice of every youthfid companion hushed — AA-ife, perhaps even children, removed from his side — ncAV things in Avhich he has no i>art or vocation all around him. Then, indeed, it were better for him to follow those who have gone before. Yet, while the spectacle of such a super- fluous relic of past ages gives us, of course, little pleasure in the contemplation, and can inspire us with no ]deasant anticipations, it may become a matter of considerable interest to a mind which dwells upon time Avith a regard to cither its historical or its sentimental relations. For example, whde no one could wish to imi- tate the recently deceased American, Ilalph Farnhara, in length of days — the fact being that he lived to 107 — no one could see him, as the Prince of Wales did in November 18G0, and reflect that here was still in the body one of the little civic band Avhicli defended Bunker Hill in 1775, without feelings of extreme interest. Such a man, thus so long surviving the multitude amongst whom he once acted, becomes to us as one returned from the dead. He ought to be a shadow and a recollection, and behold he is a reality ! The whole story of the War of American Independence is now so far removed into the CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. JANUAEY 7. CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. region of history, that any living link between it and the present time is necessarily heard of with extreme surprise. Yet Lord Lyndhurst, who stiU (1862) takes a part in our public affairs, was born in 13oston, a British subject, the State of Massachusetts being then and for some years later a British province. The affair of the Forty-five precedes the sti'ug- gle for American independence by thirty years ; yet even that event is brought into apparent closeness to us by many surprising connections. There were still one or two Culloden men living when George IV. was king : one came to see him at Holyrood in 1822, and greeted him as ' the last of his enemies.' It is worth noting that an uncle of the present Lord Torphichen (1862) was an officer in the royal army in 174-5, was present at the battle of Prestonpans, and is noted by Dr Carlyle in his Aidohiograpliif as the only wounded man on the king's side who was carried to Bankton House, all the other wounded people taken there being Highlanders. [Lord Torphi- chen, however, had another nncle, who, when a boy in 1720, was supposed to be bewitched, and thus was the cause of a fast being held in Calder parish, and of three or four poor persons being imprisoned under suspicion of sorcery !] That there should be now moving in society in Edin- burgh, a lady whose father-in-law attended the Prince in his wanderings, does not call for parti- cular remark. It becomes more startling to hear Mr Andrew Coventry, of Edinburgh, a gentleman in the vigour of life, speak of having dined with the mother-in-laut of the gaUaut Charles Edward. He did so in 1823, at the house of Mr Bethmann in Frankfort. This lady was the Princess Stol- berg, then ninety years of age. Her daughter, the Princess Louisa de Stolberg, had married the Prince about fifty years before. It appears from a note in Earl Stanhope's History of England, that his lordship also was introduced to the Princess at Frankfort. He states that she was 'still lively and agreeable,' and that she lived till 1826. ' It is singular,' his lordship very naturally adds, ' that a man born eighty-five years after the Chevalier, should have seen his mother-in-law.' When George IV. acceded to the throne in 1820, he had occasion to remark a very curious circumstance connecting his reign with one which we are accustomed to consider as remote. The decorations of the Order of the Garter, which then returned to the king from his deceased father, had only been worn by two persons since the reign of Cliarlcs II. ! By that monarch they had been conferred upon tlie Duke of Somerset — lie wlio was commonly called the Proud Duke — and by him they had been retained till his death in 1748, Avhen they were conferred upon the young Prince of Wales, subsequently George III. The entire time embraced by the two tenures of tlie honour was about a hundred and forty years. It was remarkable of the Duke of Somerset, that lie figured in the pageants and politics of six reigns. ' At the funeral of Charles II., he was one of the supporters of the chief mourner, Prince George of Denmark. He carried the orb at the coronation of James II. ; at the coronation of William and Mary, he bore the queen's crown. At the funeral of King William, he was again one of the supporters of the chief mourner. Prince George ; and at the coronations of Queen Anne, George I., and George II., he carried the orb.' Mr Jesse, in relating these circumstances a few years ago, makes the remark, that there might be individuals still living, who had con- versed with the Duke of Somerset, who had con- versed with Charles II.* Lord Campbell quotes, in his Lives of the Chief Justices, the statement of the Earl of Mansfield to Mr Murray of Henderland, about 1787, that 'he had conversed with a man who was present at the execution of the Blessed Martyr.' Mr Murray, who died a very few years ago, accompanies his report of this statement witli the remark, ' How wonderful it seems that there should be only one person between me and him who saw Charles's head cut off !'t Perhaps this is scarcely so wonderful as that the mother of Sir Walter Scott, who survived 1820, had seen a person who had seen CromweU make his entry into Edinburgh in 1650; on which occasion, by the way, the individual in question remarked nothing in the victor of Dunbar but the extraordinary mag- nitude of his nose 1 It was also quite as singular that Charles James Fox, who might have lived to attend the levees of Queen Victoria without being much older than Lord Lyndhurst now is, had an uncle in office as joint paymaster of the forces in 1679 ! This last person was a son of Sir Stephen Fox by his first marriage. All Sir Stephen's first family having predeceased him, he wedded in his old age, in Queen Anne"s time, a healthy young woman, the daughter of a Lin- colnshire clergyman, and by her left two sons, one of whom was the father of Charles James. Dr Eouth, who died December 22, 1854, Pre- sident of Magdalen College, Oxford, in tlie hundredth year of his age, ' knew Dr Theophilus Leigh, Master of Baliol, the contemporary of Addison, who had pointed out to him the situa- tion of Addison's rooms : and he had been told by a lady of her aunt, who had seen Charles II. walking round the parks at Oxford (when the parliament was held there during the plague of London) with his dogs, and turning by the cross path to the other side when he saw^the heads of horses coming.' — Times, Dec. 25, 1854. One more such case may be noticed in refer- ence to the reign of Charles II. Dr John JNIac- keuzie, who had been Burns's medical attendant at Mauchline, and who died in Edinburgh in 1841 at no very advanced age, had attended * It would appear tliat George IV. could not, with strict truth, sav tliat his father succeeded in the order of the Garter to Charles Duko of Somerset. He in reality succeeded to John first Earl of Poulett, who died 28lh May 1743. lUit, the Duke of Somerset dying 2nd December 1748, John Earl Granville was invested as his grace's successor on the same day with Prince George, along with four other knights. t A Mr Evans, who died October 9, 1780, at the age of 139, in the fuU possession of his faculties, 'could well remember the execution of Charles I., being seven years old at the time.'— Z)a47e)/'s Records ofjMxcjmhj. If this be a true statement, IMr Evans was probably the last person iu life who remembered the Blessed Martyr's death. 71 CONNECTIOM OF DISTANT AGES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONNECTION OP DISTANT AG IS. profossionallv a ladv of vanlc who was bora cio-lit voars l.otoro" the death of ilu- IMevry iMoiiairli. Tliis was iho Counloss of Loudon, widow of the third KaH. She was born in 1077 and died in 1777. having attained the venerable age of ;i hundred. t ■ ^ Elizabeth. Countess Powager of ITardwielce, who died :\Iay 20. 1858. was daughter of a person who had been a naval ollieer of Queen Anne and a rebel at the battle of Shcriilniuir, namely, James, fifth Earl of Balearres. This venerable lady eoidd have said that at her grandfather's first marriage King Charles gave away the bride; an event wliieh took place nearly a hundred and ninety years before her own death. This "marriage, by the way, was a remarkable one. The young Colin Earl of Balearres was obtaining for his bride, a young Dutch lady, Mauritia do Nassau, daughter of a natural son of ^Maurice Prince of Orange. ' The Prince of Orange, afterwards William III., presented his fair kinswoman on this joyful occasion with a, pair of magnificent emerald ear-rings, as his wcdding-^ift. The day arrived, the noble party were assembled in the church, and the bride was at the altar ; but, to the dismay of the company, no bridegroom appeared! The volatile Colin had forgotten the day of his marriage, and was dis- covered in his night-gown and slippers, quietly eating his breakfast ! Thus far the tale is told with a smile on the lip, but many a tear was shed at the conclusion. Colin hurried to the church, but in his haste left the ring in his writing-case ; — a friend in the company gave him one, — the ceremony went on, and, without looking at it, he placed it on the finger of his fair young bride : — it was a mourning ring, with the mort-head and cross-bones. On perceiving it at the close of the ceremony, she fainted away, and the evil omen had made such an impression on her mind, that, on recovering, she declared she shoiild die Avithin the year, and her presentiment was too truly fulfilled.' * When Mr and Mrs S. C. Dall in IS 10 made a tour in Ireland, in order to prepare the beauti- ful book regarding that country which they after- wards published, they were startled one day by finding themselves in the company of a gentleman of the county of Autrim.f who could tell them that his fivther had been at the battle of the Boyue, fought exactly a hundred and fifty years before. The latter wa's fifteen at the time of the battle. He lived a bachelor life till, on approaching old age, he overheard one day some young col- lateral relations talking rather too freely of what they would do with his property after his death ; whereupon, in disgust, he took an early opportunity of marrying, and became the father of the gentleman in question. It is even more * Lives of the LinJscij/n, ii. 120. Rings bearing a deatli's head were in great favour in tlie grim religious times then not long past. In a will dated 1G48, occurs this clause : ' Also 1 (lo will and appoint ten rings of gold to be made of the value of twenty i^lJi^ings a-piece sterling, with a death's head upon some of them.' — UaUiwdVs Shakspenre, V. 318. + Sir Edmund jracnaghten, of Eush !Mills ; lie was father of Sir William Macnagliten, political agent at Caubul. and who fell in the massacre at that place. 72 remarkable that Maurice O'Connell of Derry- naue, who died in 1825 at the age of 99, knew j)aniel M'Carlhy, who had been at the battle of Auglirim (duly" 12, 1091), — who Avas indeed the first man to run away from it, — but who, being 108 at his death in 1710, might have equally well remembered Cromwell's massacre at Drogheda in 1(51.9. The gentleman Avho relates this fact in the Notes anil Queries*- says : ' I remember being told in the county of Clare, about 1828, of an individual then lately deceased, who remembered the siege of Limerick by General Ginkle, and tlui ne\vs of the celebrated Treaty of Limerick (October 3, 1091).' If we go back to any former period of British history, we shall find precisely similar linkings of remote ages by the lives of individuals. Lettice Countess of Leicester, who died in 103 1, was born about 1539 ; consequently might have remembered Henry VIII., whose queen, Anne Boleyn. was her great aunt. To pursue the remarks of a contemiwrary writer, f ' during the rcigu of Edward VI.. the young Lettice was still a girl; but Sir Francis Knollys, her father, was about the court, and Lettice no doubt saw and was acquainted with the youth- ful sovereign. The succession of Mary threw the family of Lettice into the shade. As a relative of the Boleyns, and the child of a Puritan, she could expect no favour from the daughter of Catherine of Arragon ; but Mary and Philip were dovibtless personally known to her. At Elizabeth's succession, Lettice was in her eighteenth year, and in all the beauty of opening womanhood. About 1566, at the age of twenty- six, she was married to the young Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford, created Earl of Essex in 1572. He died in 1570, and in 1578 his beautiful Countess was secretly married to Eobert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. The great favourite died in 1588, and within the year of her weeds Lettice was again married to an unthrifty knight of doubtful character. Sir Christopher Blount. In 1001, Lettice became a widow for the third time : her husband was a party to the treason- able madness of her son, and both suffered on the scaffold. Such accumulated troubles would have sufficed to kill an ordinary woman ; Init Lettice retired to Drayton Bassett, and lived on in spite of her sorrows. In James's time her connections were in favour. She came up to London to share the smiles of the new dynasty, and to contest for her position as Countess of Leicester against the base-born son of her prede- cessor in the l^^arl's aflections. At James's death she had attained the age of eighty-five, with faculties unimpaired. AVe may imagine that she was introduced to the new sovereign. The grandmother of the Earls of Holland and War- w'wk, and the relation of half the court, would naturally attract the attention and share the courtesies of the lively Henrietta and the grave, stately, formal Charles. He was the sixth 'Eng- lish sovereign ( or the seventh if Philip be counted) whom she had seen. The last few years of her life were passed at Drayton : * April 12, 1851. ■\ Julin Bruce, Nulcs and Queries, 2nJ ser. iii. 13. CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. JANUARY 8. STE GUDUr-A. ' " Wlicre she spent her days so wtll, That to her the better sort Came as to an holy court, And the poor that lived near Doartli nor famine could not fear Whilst she lived." ' Until a year or two of licr cleatli, we are told that she " could yet walk a mile of a morning." She died on Christmas Day iu lG3i, at the age of ninety-four. ' Lattice was one of a long-lived race. Her father lived till 159G, and one of licr brothers attained the age of eiglity-six, and another that of ninety-nine. ' There is nothing incredible, nor even very extraordinary, in tlie age attained by the Countess Lettice ; but even her years will produce curious results if applied to the subject of possible trans- mission of knowledge through few links. I will give one example : I)r Johnson, who was born iu 1709, might have known a person who had seen the Countess Lettice. If there are not now, there were, amongst us, within the last three or four years, persons who knew Dr Johnson. There might therefore be only two links between ourselves and the Countess Lettice who saw Henry VIII.' Even these cases, remarkable as they are when viewed by themselves, sink into comparative unimportance before some others now to be adverted to. The first gives us a connection between the time of Cromwell and tliat of Queen Victoria by only two lives. William Horrocks, born in 1657, one year before the death of the Protector, was married at the usual time of life, and had a family. His wife was employed as a nurse in the family of the Cliethams at Castleton Hall, near Rochdale. In 1711, when eighty-four years of age, he married for a second wife a Avoman of twenty-six, who, as his housekeeper, liad treated him with a remarkable degree of kindness. The circumstance attracted some share of public at- tention, and the Chetham family got portraits of the pair painted, to be retained iu their man- sion as a curiosity ; Avhich portraits were not long ago, and probably still are, in existence. To ■VVilliam liorrocks in 1741 there was born a son, named James, who lived down to the year 1841, on a small farm at Ilarwood, about three miles from Bolton. This remarkable centenarian, who could say that he had a brother born in the reign of Charles II., and that his father first drew breath as a citizen of the Commonwcaltli, is described as having been wonderfully well- preserved down almost to the last. vVt ninety, he had one day walked twenty-one miles, return- ing from Newton, where he had been recording his vote at an election.* The second case we have in store for tlie reader is a French one, and quite as remarkable as the preceding. It may first be stated in this form : a lady, who might be described as a niece of Mary Queen of Scots, died so lately as 1713. She was the widow of the Due d'Angouleme, a natural son of Charles IX., king of France, who * Sec a full account of Horrocks, quoted from the Mandiesler Guardian, in Notes and Queries, 2ud scr. iii. 475. died in 1574, so that she survived her father-in- law a hundred and thirty-nine years.* At the time when she left the world, a sixth generation of tlie posterity of Maiy (Prince Frederick, father of George III. ) Avas a boy of five years. A third case may be thus stated : A man residing in Aberdeenshire, within the recollec- tion of people still living there, not only liad witnessed some of the transactions of the Civil War, but he had seen a man who was connected with the battle of Flodden, fought in September 1513. The person in question was Peter Garden, who died at Aiichterless in 1775, aged 131. When a youth, he had accompanied his master to London, and there saw Henry Jenkins, who died in 1G70, at the extraordinary age of IGt). Jenkins, as a boy, had carried a horse-load of arrows to Northallerton, to be employed by the English army in resisting the invasion of James IV. of Scotland, and which were in reality soon after used at the battle of Flodden. Here two lives embraced events extending over two hun- dred and sixty-two years ! JANUARY 8. St Apollinaris, the apologist, bishop, 175 ; St Lucian, of Beauvais, martyr, 290 ; St Natlialau, bisliop, confessor, 452 ; St Severinus, abbot, 482 ; St Gudula, virgin, 712 ; St Pega, virgin, about 719 ; St Yulsiu, bishop, confessor, 973. STE GUDULA is regarded with, veneration by Roman Catholics as tiic patroness saint of the city of Brussels. She was of noble birth, her mother having been niece to the eldest of the Pepins, who was Maire of the Palace to Dagobert I. Her father was Count Witger. She was educated at Nivelle, under the care of her cousin Ste Gertrude, after whose death iu 664, she returned to her father's castle, and dedicated her life to the service of religion. She spent her future years in prayer and abstinence. Her revenues were expended on the poor. It is related of her, that going early one morning to tlie church of St Morgelle, two miles from "her father's mansion, witli a female servant bearing a lantern, the wax taper havingbcen accidentally extinguished, she lighted it again by the efficacy of her prayers. Hence she is usually represented in pictures with a lantern. Slie died January 8th, 712, and was buried at Ham, near Villcvord. Her relics were transferred to Brussels in 978, and deposited in tlie churcli of St Gery, but in 1047 were removed to the collegiate church of Michael, since named after her the cathedral of Ste Gudula. This ancient Gothic structure, commenced in 1010, still continues to be one of the architectural orna- ments of the city of Brussels. Her Life w;is written by Hubert of Brabant not long after the removal of her relics to the church of St Michael. * Francis II., the elder brother of Charles IX., was first husband of Mary of Scotland ; conseipicntly this uiil'ortuuate princess was by marriage aunt of tho Duchess d'AnsoulCuie. 73 GALILKO GALILEI. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN, FIRST EAKL OF STATE. X),V(/._Galilco Galilei, 1642 ; John Earl of Stair, 1707; Sir Thomas Burnet, 1753; John 15askerville, printer, 1773; Sir William Draper, 17S7; Lieutenant Tliomas Waghorn, 1850. GALILEO G.VLILEI. Such (tliouf^li little known) was tlie real full name of the famous Italian in-ofessor, wlio first frametl and used a telescope for tlie observation of the heaveulv bodies, and who may be said to have first i^ivcii stability and force to the theory which places the sun iii the centre of the planet- ary system. In April or May 1609, Galileo heard at A^-'nice of a little tubular instrument lately made by one Hans Lippershey of Middleburg, which made distant objects appear nearer, and he immediately applied himself to experiment- in;^ on the means by which such an instrument could be produced. Procuring a couple of spec- tacle glasses, each plain on one side, but one convex and the second concave on the other side, he put these at the diflferent ends of a tube, and applying his eye to the concave glass, found that objects were magnified three times, and brought apparently nearer. Soon afterwards, having made one whicii could magnify thirty times, Galileo commenced observations on the surface of the moon, which he discovered to be irregular, like that of the earth, and on Jupiter, which, in January 1610, he ascertained to be attended by four stars, as he called them, which after- i wards proved to be its satellites. To us, who calmly live in the knowledge of so much that the telescope has given us, it is inconceivable with what wonder and excitement the first discoveries of the rude tube of Galileo were received. The first eflects to himself were such as left him nothing to desire ; for, by the liberality of his patron, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he was en- dowed with a high salary, independent of all his former professional duties. The world has been made well aware of the opposition which Galileo experienced froni the ecclesiastical authorities of his age ; but it is re- markable that the first resistance he met with came from men who were philosophers like him- self. As he went on with his brilliant discove- ries — the crescent form of Venus, the spots on the sun, the peculiar form of Saturn — he was met with a storm of angry opposition from the adherents of the old Aristotelian views ; one of whom, Martin Horky, said he would ' never grant that Italian his new stars, though he should die for it.' The objections made by these persons were clearly and triumphantly refuted by Galileo : he appealed to their own senses for a sufficient refutation of their arguments. It was all in. vain. The fact is ec[ually certain and important that, while he gained the admiration of many men of high rank, he was an object of hostility to a vast number of his own order. It was not, after all, by anything like a general movement of the Church authorities that Galileo was brought to trouble for his doctrines. The Church had overlooked the innovations of Coper- nicus : many of its dignitaries were among the friends of Galileo. Perhaps, by a little discreet management, he might have escaped censure. He was, however, of an ardent disposition ; and 74 being assailed by a preacher in the pulpit, he was tempted to bring out a pam]5hlet defending his views, and in reality adding to the offence he liad already given. He was consequently brought before the Inquisition at Eome, February 1615, and obliged to disavow all his doctrines, and solemnlyengage never again to teach them. From this time, Galileo became manifestly less active in research, as if the humiliation had withered his faculties. Many years after, reco- vering some degree of confidence, he ventured to publish an account of his System of the World, under the form of a dialogue, in which it was sim- ply discussed by three persons in conversation. He had thought thus to escape active opposition ; but he was mistaken. He had again to appear before the Inquisition, April 1633, to answer for the offence of publishing what all educated men now know to be true ; and a condemnation of course followed. Clothed in sackcloth, the vener- able sage fell upon his knees before the assembled cardinals, and, with his hands on the Bible, ab- jured the heresies he had taught regarding the earth's motion, and promised to repeat the seven penitential psalms weekly for the rest of his life. He was then conveyed to the prisons of the In- quisition, but not to be detained. The Church was satisfied with having brought the philoso- pher to a condemnation of his own opinions, and allowed him his liberty after only four days. The remaining years of the great astronomer were spent in comparative peace and obscurity. That the discoverer of truths so certain and so important should have been forced to abjure them to save his life, has ever since been a theme of lamentation for the friends of truth. It is held as a blot on the Romish Church that she persecuted 'the starry Galileo.' But the great difficulty as to all new and startling doctrines is to say whether they are entitled to respect. It certainly was not wonderful that the cardinals did not at once recognise the truth contained in the heliocentric tlicory, when so mauy so-called philosophers failed to recognise it. And it may be asked if, to this day, the promulgator of any new and startling doctrine is well treated, so long as it remains unsanctioned by general ap- probation, more especially if it appears in any degree or manner inconsistent with some point of religious doctrine. It is strongly to be sus- pected that many a man has spoken and written feelingly of the persecutors of Galileo, who daily acts in the same spirit towards other reformers of opinions, with perhaps less previous inquiry to justify him in what he is doing. JOHX, FIRST EARL OF STAIR. The Earl of Stair above cited was eldest son of James Dalrymple, Viscount Stair, the Presi- dent of the Court of Session in Scotland, and the greatest lawyer whom that country has pro- duced. This first earl, as Sir John Dalrymple, was one of three persons of importance chosen to offer the crown of Scotland to William and Mary at the licvolution. As Secretary of State for Scotland, he was the prime instrument in causing the Massacre of Glencoe, which covered his name with infamy, and did not leave that of his royal master untarnished. He was greatly LIEUTENANT WAGHORN. JANUAEY 8. BI-CENTENAEY OF NEWSPAPEKS. instrumental in brinpjing about tlie union of Scotland with. England, though he did not live to see it effected. His son, the second earl, as ambassador to France in the time of the regency of Orleans, was of immense service in defeating the intrigues of the Stuarts, and preserving the crown for the Hanover dynasty. The remarkable talents and vigour of three generations of one family on the Wliig side, not to speak of sundry offshoots of tlie tree in emi- nent official situations, rendered the Dalrymples a vexation of no small magnitude to the Tory party in Scotland. It appears to have been with reference to them, that tlie Nine of Diamonds got the name of the Curse of Scotland; this card bearing a resemblance to the nine lozenges, or, arranged saltire-wise on their armorial coat.* — -_ y. Various other reasons ^^1 ,j^ f^ have, indeed, been sug- gested for this expres- sion — as that, the game of Comete being intro- duced by Mary of Lor- raine (alternatively by James, Duke of York) into the court at Holy- rood, the Nine of Dia- monds, being the win- ning card, got this name in consequence of the number of courtiers ruined by it ; that in the game of Pope Joan, the Nine of Diamonds is the Pope — a personage whom the Scotch Presbyterians considered as a curse : that diamonds imply royalty, and every ninth king of Scotland was a ci;rse to his country: all of them most lame and unsatisfactory sug- gestions, in comparison with the simple and obvious idea of a witty reference to a set of detested but powerful statesmen, through the medium of their coat of arms. Another suppo- sition, that the Duke of Cumberland wrote his inhuman orders at CuUoden on the back of the Nine of Diamonds, is negatived by the fact, that a caricature of the earlier date of October 21, 1745, represents the young chevalier attempting to lead a herd of bulls, laden with papal curses, excommunications, &c., across the Tweed, with the Nine of Diamonds lying before them. LTEUTEXAXT WAGHORN. This name will be permanently remembered in connection with the great improvements which have been made of late years in the postal com- munications between the distant parts of the British Empire and the home country. Waghoru was a man of extraordinary energy and resolu- tion, as well as intelligence ; and it is sad to think that his life was cut short at about fifty, before he had reaped the rewards due to his public services. In the old days of four-montb passages round Cape Horn, a quick route for the Indian mail was generally felt as in the highest degree desir- able. It came to be more so when the Australian colonies began to rise into importance. A pas- * In the arms of the Earl of Stair, this bearing stands first and fourth, for Dalrymple. The bearings in the second and third quarters are derived from marriages. sage by the Euphrates, and the 120 miles of desert between that river and the Mediterranean, Avas favourably thought of, was experimented upon, but soon abandoned. Wagliorn then took up the plan of a passage by Egypt and the Red Sea. which, after many dililculties, was at length realized in 1838. Such was his energy at this time, that, in one of his early journe3's, when charged with important dispatches, coming one winter's day to Suez, and being disappointed of the steamer which, was to carry liim to Bom- bay, lie embarked in an open boat to sail along the six hundred miles of the Eed Sea, without chart or compass, and in six days accomplished the feat. A magnificent steam fleet was in time established on this route by the Peninsidar and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and has, we need scarcely say, proved of infinite service in facilitating personal as well as postal commu- nications with the East. ni-CEXTEXAllY OF NEWSPAPERS. There are several newspapers in Europe which have lived two hundred years or more — papers that have appeared regularly, with few or no interruptions, amid wars, tumults, plagues, fa- mines, commercial troubles, fires, disasters of innumerable kinds, national and private. It is a grand thing to be able to point to a complete series of such a newspaper ; for in it is to be found a record, however humble and imperfect, of the history of the world for that long period. The proprietors may well make a holiday-festival of the day when such a bi-centenary is completed. A festival of this kind was held at Haarlem on the 8th of Januarj', 1856, when the Haarlem Courant completed its 200th year of publication. The first number had appeared on the 8th of January, 1656, under the title of De Weelcelycl-e Courant van Eiiropa ; and a fac-simile of this ancient number was produced, at some expense and trouble, for exhibition on the day of the festival. Lord Macaulay, when in Holland, made much use of the earlier numbers of this newspaper, for the purposes of his History. The first number contained simply two small folio pages of news. The Continent is rather rich in old newspapers of this kind. 'On the 1st of January, I860, the Gazette of Rostoclc celebrated its 150th anniver- sary, and the Gazette of Leipsic its 200th. The proprietors of the latter paper distributed to their subscribers, on this occasion, fac-similes of two old numbers, of Jan. 1, 1660, and Jan. 1, 1760, representing the old typogi-aphical appearance as nearly as they could. It has lately been said that Russian newspapers go back to the year 1703, when one was established which Peter the Great helped both to edit and to correct in proof. Some of the proof sheets are still extant, with Peter's own corrections in the margin. The Imperial Library at St Petersburg is said to contain the only two known copies of the first year complete. The UoUandsche Mercuriits was issuedmore than two centuries ago, a small quarto exactly in size like our Notes and Queries; we can there see how the news of our civil war was from time to time received among the people of Holland, who were generally well affected to the royalist cause. At the assumption of power b}' BI-CENXENAKY OF NEWSPAPEKS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. BI-CENTENAKY OP NEWSPAPEES. Croinw-oU in 1053. the paper hoisted a •n-ood-cut title reprosentinj;: various English matters, in- eluding Orouiweil seated in council ; and this, as ail historical curiosity, we have caused to be hero reproduced. In the original, there is a copy of verses hy some Dutch poet, describing the subjects of the various designs on this carved page. lie tells xis that the doors of Westminster ■were opened to Oliver ; that both the council and the camp bowed to him ; and that London, frantic rnOXTISPIECE OF A DUTCH NEWSPAPER, 1G53. with joy, solicited his good services in connection with peace and commerce. The Jlollandsche Mcrcurius was, after all, a sort of Dutch ' An- nual Ecgistcr,' rather than a newspaper : there are many sucli in various countries, much more 76 than 200 years old. Old newspapers have boon met with, printed at Niirnberg in 1571, at Dil- lingen in 1509, at Ivatisbon in 1528, and at Vienna even so early as 1524. There may be others earlier than this, for aught that is at presentknown. BI-CENTENAEY OF NEWSPAPEES. JANUAEY 8. BI-CENTENARY OF NEW8PAPEES. Modem investigators of this subject, liowevcr, have found it previously necessary to apjree upon an answer to the question, ' Wiiat is a newspaper?' Many small sheets were issued in old days, each containini^ an account of some one event, but havinf^ neither a preceding nor a following number under the same title. If it be agreed that the word 'newspaper' shall be applied only to a publication which has the following characteristics — a treatment of news from various parts of the world, a common title for every issue, a series of numbers a])plied to them all, a date to each number, and a regular period between the issues — tJien multitudes of old publications which have hitJierto been called newspapers must be expelled from tJie list. It matters not what we call them, provided there be a general agreement as to the scope of the word used. A very unkind blow was administered to our national vanity somewhat moi*e than twenty years ago. We fancied we possessed in our great National Library at the British Museum, a real printed English newspaper, two centuries and a half old. Among the Sloane MSS. is a volume containing what purport to be three numbers of the Engluih Mercurie, a newspaper published in 1588 : they profess to be Nos. 50, 51, and 51 of a series : and they give numerous particulars of the Spanish Armada, a subject of absorbing interest in those days. Each number consists of four pages somewhat shorter and broader than that which the reader now holds in his hand. Where they had remained for two centuries nobody knew ; but they began to be talked about at the close of the last century — first in Chalmers' Life of Ituddiman, then in the Gentleman s Magazine, then in Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, then in D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, then in the English edition of JjccTcmann, then in various English and Foreign Cyclopasdias, and then, of course, in cheap popular periodicals. So the public faith remained firm that the English Mercurie was the earliest English newspaper. The fair edifice was, however, thrown down in 1839. Mr Thomas Watts, the able Assistant Librarian at the British Museum, on subjecting the sheets to a critical examination, found abundant evidence that the theory of their antiquity was not ten- able. Manuscript copies of three numbers are bound up in the same volume ; and from a scrutiny of the paper, the ink, the handwriting, the type (which he recognised as belonging to the Caslon foundry), the literary style, the spell- ing, the blunders in fact and in date, and the corrections, Mr AVatts came to a conclusion that tlic so-called English Mercurie was printed in the latter half of the last century. The evidence in support of this opinion was col- lected in a letter addressed to Mr Panizzi, after- wards printed for private circulation. Eleven years later, in 1850, Mr Watts furnished to the C-ienilenuui s Magazine the reasons which led him to think that the fraud liad been perpetrated by Philip Yorke, second Earl of Hardwicke : in other words, that the Earl, for some purpose not now easy to surmise, had written certain para- graphs in a seemingly Elizabethan style, and caused them to be printed as if belonging to a newspaper of 1588. Be this as it may, concern- ing the identity of the Avriter, all who 'now look at the written and printed sheets agree that they are not what they ]n'ofess to be ; and thus a pretty bit of national complacency is set aside ; for we have become ashamed of our English 3Iercurie. Mr Knight Hunt, in his Fourth Estate, gives us credit, however, for a printed newspaper con- siderably more than two centuries old. lie says : ' There is now no reason to doubt that the puny ancestor of the myriads of broad sheets of our time was published in 1G22 ; and that the most prominent of the ingenious speculators who oflered the novelty to the world was Nathaniel Butter. His companions in the work appear to have been Nicholas Bourne, Thomas Archer, Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheppard, Bar- tholomew Donncr, and Edward Allde. All these different names appear in the imprint of the early numbers of the first newspaper, the Weekly Neics. What appears to be the earliest sheet bears the date 23d of May 1622." Al^out 1663, there was a newspaper called Kingdonis Lntel- ligencer, more general and useful than any of its predecessors. Sir Eoger L'Estrange was connected with it ; but the publication ceased when the London Gazette (first called the Oxford Gazette) was commenced in 1665. A few years before this, during the stormy times of the Commonwealth, newspapers were amazingly nu- merous in England ; the chief writers in them being Sir John Birkenhead and ]\Iarchmo:it Need- ham. If it were any part of our purpose here to mention the names of newspapers which have existed for a longer period than one century and a half, we should have to make out a pretty large list. Claims have been put forward in this respect for the Lincoln, Eutland, and Stamford Mercury, the Scotch Postman, the Scotch Mer- cury, the Duhlin News-Letter, the Dublin Gazette, Pue's Occurrences, Faulkner's Journal, and many others, some still existing, others extinct. The Edinburgh Evening Courant has, we believe, never ceased to appear thrice a week (latterly daily) since the 15th of December 1718; and its rival, the Caledonian Mercury, is but by two years less venerable. Saunders's News-Letter has had a vitality in Dublin of one hundred and eighteen years, during eighty of which it has been a daily paper. In connection with these old newspapers, it is curious to observe the original meaning of the terms Gazette and News-Letter. During the war between the Venetians and the Turks in 1563, the Venetian Government, being desirous of communi- cating news on public allairs to the people, caused sheets of military and commercial intelligence to be written : these sheets were read out pviblicly at certain places, and the fee paid for hearing tliem was a small coin called a gazzetta. By degrees, the name of the coin was transferred to the writ- ten sheet ; and an official or government news- paper became known as a Gazzetta or Gazetta. For some time afterwards, the Venetian Govern- ment continued the practice, sending several written copies to several towns, where they were read to those who chose to listen to them. This 77 BI-CEXTKXAEY OF NEWSPAFERS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST FILLAN. rude systoiii. however, was not calculated to be of lonlj duratiou : the printing-press speedily superseded sueli written sheets. The name, however, survives; the ollieial newspapers of several European countries being called Ga- zettes. Concerning ycirs-Lci/crs, they were the pre- cursors of newspapers generally. They were really letters, written on sheets of writing-paper. Long after the invention of printing, readers were too few ill number to pay for the issue of a regu- lar periodically-printed newspaper. IIow, then, could the wealthy obtain informationof what was going on in the world ? By written newspapers or news-letters, for Avhich they paid a high price. There were two classes of news-writers in those days— such as wrote privately to some particular person or family, and such as wrote as many copies as they could dispose of. Whitaker, in his Histo)')/ of Craven, says that the Cliflbrd family prcserves'a record or memorandum to the follow- ing eflect : ' To Captain llobiuson, by my Lord's commands, for writing letters of newes to his Lordship for half a year, five pounds.' In or about the year 1711, the town-council of Glasgow kept a news-writer for a weekly 'letter.' A collection of such letters was afterwards found in Glammis Castle. During the time of Ben Jonson, and down to a later period, there were many news-writers living in London, some of them unemployed military men, who sought about in every quarter for news. Some would visit the vicinity of the Court, some the Exchange, some Westminster Hall, some (old) St Paul's — the nave of which was, in those days, a famous resort for gossips. All that they could pick up was carried to certain offices, where they or other writers digested the news, and made it sufficient to fill a sheet of certain size. The number of copies of this sheet depended on the number of subscribers, most of whom were wealthy families residing in the country. Ben Jonson frequently satirizes these news-writers, on account of the unscrupulous way in which the news was often collected. Even in the days of Queen Anne, when mails and posts were more numerous, and when the printing-press had superseded the written news-letter, the caterers for the public were often suspected of manufacturing the news which they gave. Steele, in No. 42 of the Tatler, represents a news-writer as excusing him- self and his craft in the following way : ' Hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to. Our readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind, blowing for a fortnight together, generally fills every paper with an order of battle ; when we shew our mental skill in every line, and according to the space we have to fill, range our men in squad- rons and battalions, or draw out company by company, and troop by troop : ever observing that no muster is to be made but when the wind is in a cross-point, which often happens at the end of a campaign, when half the men are de- serted or killed. The Courant is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close ; the Postboy is generally in files, for greater exactness ; and the Postman comes down upon you rather after the Turkish way, sword in hand, pell-meU, without form or discipline; but sure to bring men enough into 78 the field ; and wherever they are raised, never to lose a battle for want of numbers.' GETTING INTO A SCRArE, This jihrase, involving the use of an English word in a sense quite diflcrent from the proper one, appears to be a mystery to English lexico- graphers. Todd, indeed, in his additions to Johnson, points to shrap, Swedish, and quotes from Lye, ' Draga en in i scraeper — to draw any one into difficulties.' But it may be asked, what is the derivation of the Swedish phrase ? It is as likely that the Swedes have adopted our phrase as that we have adopted theirs. It may be suspected that the phrase is one of those which are puzzling in consequence of their hav- ing originated in special local circumstances, or from some remarkable occurrence. There is a game called golf, almost peculiar to Scotland, though also frequently played upon Blackheath, involving the use of a small, hard, elastic ball, which is driven from point to point with a variety of wooden and iron clubs. In the north, it is played for the most part upon downs (or linlcs) near the sea, where there is usually abundance of rabbits. One of the troubles of the golf-player is the little hole which the rabbit makes in the sward, in its first elTorts at a bur- row ; this is commonly called a rabbit's scrape, or simply a scrape. When the ball gets into a scrape, it can scarcely be played. The rules of most golfing fraternities, accordingly, include one indicating what is allowable to the player when he gets into a scrape. Here, and here alone, as far as is known to the writer, has the phrase a direct and intelligible meaning. It seems, there- fore, allowable to surmise that this phrase has originated amongst the golfing societies of the north, and in time si^read to the rest of the public. JANUARY 9. SS. Julian and Basilissa, martyrs, 313. St Peter of Sebaste, bisliop and confessor, about 387. St Marchiana, virgin and martyr, about 305. St Vaneng, confessor, about 088. St Fillan, abbot, 7tli century. St Adrian, abbot at Canterbury, 710. St liritliwald, archbishop of Canterbury, 731. ST FILLAN is famous among the Scottish saints, from his piety and good works. He spent a considerable part of his' holy life at a monastery which he built in Pittenweem, of which some remains of: the later buildings yet exist in a habitable condition. It is stated that, while engaged here in transcribing the Scriptures, his left hand sent forth sufficient light to enable him. at night, to continue his work without a lamp. For the sake of seclusion, he finally retired to a wild and lonely vale, called from him Strathfillan, in Perthshire, where he died, and where his name is still attached to the ruins of a chapel, to a pool, and a bed of rock. 'At Strathfillan, there is a deep pool, called the Holy Pool, where, in olden times, they were wont to dip insane people. The ceremony was performed after sunset on the first day of the ST FILLAN. JANUAHY 9. LORD ST VINCENT. quarter, O.S., and before sunrise next morning. The dipped persons were instructed to take three stones from the bottom of the pool, and, walking three times round each of three cairns on the bank, throw a stone into each. They were next conveyed to the ruins of St Eillan's chapel ; and in a corner called St Fillan's bed, they were laid on their back, and left tied all night. If next morning they were found loose, the cure was deemed perfect, and thanks returned to the saint. The pool is still (1843) visited, not by parishioners, for they have no faith in its virtue, but by people from other and distant places.' — New Statistical Account of Scotland, parish of Killin, 1843. Strange as it may appear, the ancient bell of the chapel, believed to have been St Fillan's bell, of a very antique form, continued till the begin- ning of the nineteenth century to lie loose on a grave-stone in the churchyard, ready to be used, as it occasionally Avas, in the ceremonial for the cure of lunatics. The popular belief was, that it was needless to attempt to appropriate and carry it away, as it was sure, by some mysterious means, to return. A curious and covetous English tra- veller at length put the belief to the test, and the bell has been no more heard of. The head of St Fillan's crosier, called the Quigrich, of silver gilt, elegantly carved, and with a jewel in front, remained at Killin, in the possession of a peasant's family, by the representative of which it was conveyed some years ago to Canada, where it still exists. The story is that this family obtained possession of the Quigrich from King llobert JBruce, after the battle of Bannockburn, on his becoming offended with the abbot of Inchafiray, its previous keeper ; and there is certainly a document proving its having been in their posses- sion in the year 1487. QUIGRICH OF ST FILLAX, FROM WII.SON's 'rEE-IIISTORIC AiNNALS OF SCOTLAND.' A relic of St Fillan figures in Ilector Bocce's account of tlio battle just alluded to. 'King Kobert,' says he, 'took little rest the night before the battle, having great care in his mind for the surety of his army, one while revolving in his consideration this chance, and another while that : yea, and sometimes he fell to devout contempla- tion, making his prayer to God and St Fillan, whose arm, as it was set and enclosed in a silver case, he supposed had been the same time within his tent, trusting the better fortune to follow by the presence thereof. As he was thus making his prayers, the case suddenly opened and clapped to again. The king's chaplain being present, astonished therewith, went to the altar where the case stood, and finding the arm within it, he cried to the king and others that were present, how there was a great miracle wrought, confessing that he brought the empty case to the field, and left the arm at home, lest that relic should have been lost in the field, if anything chanced to the army otherwise than well. The king, very joyful of this miracle, passed the remnant of the night in prayer and thanksgiving.' Born. — John Earl St Vincent (Admiral Jeivis), 1734. Lied. — Bernard de Fontenelle, philosopher, 1757; Thomas Birch, biographical and historical writer, 1766 ; Elizabeth 0. Benger, historian, 1822 ; Caroline Lucretia Herschel, astronomer, 1848. LORD ST VINCENT. In the history of this great naval commander, we have a remarkable iustanceof early difficulties overcome by native hardihood and determination. The son of a solicitor who was treasurer to Green- wich Hospital, he received a good education, and was designed for the law ; but this was not to be his course. To pursue an interesting recital given by himself — ' My father's favourite plan was frustrated by his own coachman, whose con- fidence I gained, always sitting by his side on the coach-box when we drove out. He often asked what profession I intended to choose. I told him I was to be a lawyer, " Oh, don't be a lawyer. Master Jackey," said the old man ; " all lawyers are rogues." About this time young Strachan (father of the late Admiral Sir Kichard Strachan, and a son of Dr Strachan, who lived at Greenwich) came to the same school, and we became great friends. He told me such stories of the happiness of a sea life, into which he had lately been ini- tiated, that he easily persuaded me to quit the school and go with him. We set out accordingly, and concealed ourselves on board of a ship at Woolwich.' After three days' absence, young Jervis returned home, and persisted in not return- ing to school. ' This threw my mother into much perplexity, and, in the absence of her husband, she made known her grief, in a flood of tears, to Lady Archibald Hamilton, mother of the late Sir William Hamilton, and wife of the Governor of Greenwich Hospital. Her ladyship said she did not see the matter in the same light as my mother did, that she thought the sea a very honourable and a very good profession, and said she would xiudertake to procure me a situation in some ship-of-war. In the meantime my mother sent for her brother, Mr John Parker, who, on being made acquainted with my determination, expostulated with me, but to no purpose. I was resolved I would not be a lawyer, and that I would be a sailor. Shortly afterwards Lad}'' 79 FOXTEXELLK. TTTE BOOK OF DAYS. FONTENELLE. Archibalil IlainiUou iutroJiu'Oil mo to Lady Burlini^ton. niul slio to ConmiodorP Townsliend, who was at tliat timo .ijoiiii; out in the Gloiiccsfcr, as Commandor-in-Ohiot'. to .Tamaioa. She reques- ted that he Avould lalce me on his quarter-deck, to whieh the eonunodore readily consented ; and T was forthwitli to be prepared for a sea life. .My eipiipnuMit was what would now be called rather grotesque. ^ly coat was made for me to grow up to ; it reached down to my heels, aiul was full hirge in the sleeves ; I had a dirk, and a gold-laced hat ; and in this costume my uncle caused me to be introduced to my patroness, Lady Burlington. Here I acquitted myself but badly. I lagged behind my nncle, and ht-ld by the skirt of his coat, llor ladyship, liowever, insisted on my coming forward, shook hands with me. and told mc I had chosen a very lionourable profession. She then gave Mr Parker a note to Commodore George 'J'ownshend, who lived in one of the small houses in Charles Street, Berkeley Square, desiring that we should call there early the next morning. This we did; and after waiting some time, the commodore made his appearance in his night-cap and slippers, and in a very rough and uncouth voice asked me how soon I would be ready to join my ship ? I replied, " Directly." " Then you may go to-morrow morning," said he, " and I will give you a letter to the first lieu- tenant." ]\ly uncle, ~Mr Parker, however, replied that I could not be ready quite so soon, and we quitted the commodore. In a few days after this we set off, and my uncle took me to Mr Blanchard, the master-attendant or the boatswain of the dockyard — I forget which — and by him I was taken on board the hulk or receiving-ship the next morning, the Gloucester being in dock at the time. This was in the year 1748. As soon as the ship was ready for sea we proceeded to Jamaica, and as I was always fond of an active life, I voluntered to go into small vessels, and saw a good deal of what was going on. My father had a very large family, with limited means. He gave me twenty pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave me. After I had been a consider- able time at the station, I drew for twenty more, but the bill came back protested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have ever kept, that I would never draw another bill, without a certainty of its being paid. I imme- diately changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I found to be quite sufficient ; washed and mended my own clothes, made a pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed, and, having by these means saved as much money as would redeem my honour, I took up my bill ; and from that time to this ' (he said this with great energy) ' I have taken care to keep within iny means.' FONTENELLE, Fontcnelle stands out amongst writers for hav- ing reached the extraordinary age of a liun(ire-arden. Afterwards he touched them in tlie Banquet ting House.' And again, under the date o( Ain-il 10, lt^.i51, Pepys says : ' Met my lord the duke, and, after a little talk with him, I went to the Banquet House, and there saw the kino- heal. — the first time that ever I saw him do i't.— which he did with great gravity ; and it seemed to mc to be an ugly office aud a simple one.' 1,1 One of Charles II. 's proclamations, dated January 0. 10S3. has been given above. Evelyn, in his 'Dian/, March 28. KkSl, says : ' There Avas so great a concourse of people with their children to be touched for the evil, that six or seven were crushed to death by pressing at the chirurgeon's door for tickets.' The London Gazette, October?, l(iS6. contains an advertisement stating that his IMajesty would heal weekly on Fridays, and com- manding the attendance of the king's physicians and surgeons at the Mews, on Thursdays in the afternoon, to examine cases and deliver tickets. GemeUi, the traveller, states that Louis XI V. touched 1600 persons on Easter Sunday, 16S6. The words he used were : ' Le Eoy te touche, Dieu te guerisse ' ( ' The King touches thee ; mav God "cure thee'). Every Frenchman re- ceived fifteen sous, aud every foreigner thirty. — Barrington's Observations on ike Statutes, p. 107. But Charles II. and Louis XIV. had for a few years a rival in the gift of curing the king's evil by touching. Mr Greatrakes, an Irish gentle- man of the county of Waterford, began, about 1662, to have a strange persuasion in his mind that the faculty of curing the king's evil was bestowed upon him, and upon trial found his touching succeed. He next ventured upon agues, and in time attempted other diseases. In January 1666. the Earl of Orrery invited him to England to attempt the cure of Lady Conway of a head- ache ; he did not succeed ; but during his resi- dence of three or four weeks at Kagley, Lord Conway's seat in Warwickshire, cured, as he states, many persons, while others received bene- fit. From Eagley he removed to Worcester, where his success was so great that he was in- vited to London, where he resided many months in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and performed many cures. — A brief Account of Mr Valentine Grcat- rakes, and divers of the strange cures by him poformed ; written by himself in a Letter ad- dressed to the Hon. RoJiert Boyle, Esq., ivhereunto are annexed the testimonials of several eminent and worthy persons of the chief matters of fact there related. London, 1666. The ceremony of touching was continued by James II. In the Diary of Bishop Cartwright, published by the Camden Society, at the date of August 27, 1687, we read : ' I was at his Ma- jesty's levee ; from whence, at nine o'clock, I attended him into the closet, where he healed 81 TOUCHING FOE THE EVIL. 350 persons.' James touched for the evil while at the French court. Voltaire alludes to it in his Sicclc de Louis XLV. William III. never performed the ceremony. Queen Anne seems to have been the last of the English sovereigns who actually performed the ceremony of touching. Dr Dicken, her Ma- jesty's sergeant-surgeon, examined all the persons who were brought to her, and bore witness to the certainty of some of the cures. Dr Johnson, in Lent. 1712, was amongst the persons touched by the Queen. For this purpose he was taken to London, by the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, then a physician in Lichfield. Being asked if he remembered Queen Anne, Johnson said he had ' a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recol- lection of a lady in diamonds, aud a long black hood.' Johnson was but thirty months old when he was touched. Carte, the historian, appears to have beeu not ouly a believer in the efficacy of the royal touch, but in its transmission in the hereditary royal line ; and to prove that the virtue of the touch was not owing to the consecrated oil used at the coronation, as some thought, he relates an instance wdthin his own knowledge of a person who had been cured by the Pretender. {History of Eng- land, vol. i. p. 357, note.) 'A young man named Lovel, who resided at Bristol, was afflicted with scrofulous tumours on his neck aud breast, and having received no benefit from the remedies applied, resolved to go to the Continent and be touched. He reached Paris at the end of August 1716, and went thence to the place where he was touched by the lineal descendant of a race of kings who had not at that time been anointed. He touched the man, and invested him with a narrow riband, to which a small piece of silver was pendant, according to the office appointed by the Church for that solemnity. The humours dispersed insensibly, the sores healed iip, and he recovered strength daily till he arrived in perfect health at Bristol at the beginning of January following. There I saw him without any remains of his complaint.' It did not occur to the learned historian that these facts might all be true, as probably they were, and yet might form no proof that an unanointed but hereditarily rightful king had cured the evil. The note had a sad effect for him, in causing much patron- age to be withdrawn from his book. A form of prayer to be used at the ceremony of touching for the king's evil was originally printed on a separate sheet, but was introduced into the Book of Common Praj^er as early as 1684. It appears in the editions of 1707 and 1709. It was altered in the folio edition printed at Oxford in 1715 by Baskett. Previous to the time of Charles II., no parti- cular coin appears to have been executed for the purpose of being given at the touching. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the small gold coin called an angel seems to have been used. The touch-pieces of Charles II. are not uncommon, and specimens belonging to his reign and of the reigns of James II. and of Queen Anne may be seen in the British Museum. They have figures of St Michael and the dragon on one side, and a THE ' DAVY ' AND THE ' GEOEDY.' JANUAEY 9. THE 'DAVY* AND THE ' GEOEDY.* sliip on the other. A piece in the British Museum has on one side a hand descending from a cloud TOUCU-PIECE (time OF CHARLES II.). TOUCH-PIECE (time OF QUEEN ANNE). towards four heads, with * He touched them ' round the margin, and on the other side a rose and thistle, with ' And they were healed.' We hare engraved a gold touch-piece of Charles II., obverse and reverse; and the identical touch- piece, obverse and reverse, given by Queen Anne to Dr Johnson, preserved in the British Museum. THE 'DAVY' and the ' GEORDY.' On this day, in the year 1816, Davy's safety lamp, for the first time, shed its beams in the dark recesses of a coal-pit. The Eev. John Hodgson, rector of Jarrow, near Newcastle,- — a man of high accomplishment, subsequently known for his laborious History of Northumberland, — had on the previous day received from Sir Humphry Davy, two of the lamps which have ever since been known by the name of the great phi- losopher. Davy, although he felt well-grounded reliance in the scientific correctness of his new lamp, had never descended a coal-pit to make the trial : and Hodgson now determined to do this for him. Coal mines are wont to give forth streams of gas, which, when mixed in certain proportions with atmospheric air, ignite by con- tact with an open flame, producing explosion, and scattering death and destruction ai-ound. Till this time, miners were in the habit, when work- ing in foul air, of lighting themselves by a steel mill — a disk of steel kept revolving in contact with a piece of flint : such an arrangement being safe, though certainly calculated to afford very little light. Davy found the means, by enclosing the flame in a kind of lantern of wire-gauze, of giving out light without inviting explosion. Armed with one of these lamps, Mr Hodgson descended Hebburn pit, walked about in a ter- rible atmosphere o^ fire-dam}), or explosive gas, held his lamp high and low, and saw it become fuU of blazing gas without producing any explo- sion. He approached gradually a miner working by the spark light of a steel mill ; a man who had not the slightest knowledge that such a wonder as the new lamp was in existence. No notice had been given to the man of what was about to take place. He was alone in an atmosphere of great danger, ' in the midst of life or death,' when he saw a light approaching, apparently a candle burning openly, the effect of which he knew would be instant destruction to him and its bearer. His command was instantly, 'Put out the light!' The light came nearer and nearer. No regard was paid to his cries, w'hich then became wild, mingled with imprecations against the comrade (for such he took Hodgson to be) who was tempting death in so rash and certain a way. Still, not one word was said in reply ; the light continued to approach, and then oaths were turned into prayers that his request might be granted ; until there stood before him, silently exulting in his success, a grave and thoughtful man, a man whom he well knew and respected, holding up in his sight, with a gentle smile, the triumph of science, the future safe- guard of the pitmen.* The clergyman after- wards acknowledged that he had done wrong in subjecting this poor fellow to so terrible a trial. Great and frequent as had been the calamities arising from fire-damp, it was not tdl after an unusually destructive explosion in 1812, that any concentrated eff"ort was made to obtain from science the means of neutralising it. In August 1815, Sir Humphry Davy was ti^a- velliug through Northumberland. In conse- quence of his notable discoveries in chemistry, Dr Gray, rector of Bishopwearmouth. begged him to make a short sojourn in Newcastle, and see whether he could suggest anj'thing to cure the creat danger of the mines. Mr Hodgson and Mr Buddie, the latter an eminent coUiery engineer, explained all the facts to Davy, and set his acute mind thinking. He came to London, and made a series of experiments. He found that flame will not pass through minute tubes ; he considered that a sheet of wire-gauze may be regarded as a series of little tubes placed side by side ; and he formed a plan for encircling the flame of a lamp with a cylinder of such gauze. Inflammable air can get through the meshes to reach the flame, but it cannot emerge again in the form of flame, to ignite the rest of the air in the mine. He sent to Mr Hodgson for a bottle of fire- damp : and with this he justified the results to which his reasoning had led him. At length, at the end of October, Davj^ wrote to Hodgson, telling all that he had done and reasoned upon, and that he intended to have a rough 'safety lamp ' made. This letter was made public at a meeting in Newcastle on the 3d of November ; and soon afterwards Davy read to the Eoyal Society, and published in the Philoso-phical Trans- actions, those researclies in flames which have contributed so much to his reputation. There can be no question that his invention of the safety lamp was due to his love of science and his wish to do good. He made the best lamp he could, and sent it to Mr Hodgson, and read with intense interest that gentleman's account of the * Raine's Life of the Eev. John Hodgson. 85 THE ' DAVY AXD THE 'GEOEDT.' THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST WILLIAM. eventful experiences of tlic 9tH of Januaiy. It is pleasant, to know that tliat identical lamp is pre- served in the Museum of Practical Geology in Jerniyn Street. Mr Buddie advised Sir Humphry to take out a patent for his invention, which ho was certain would realise £'5000 to £10,000 a year. But Paw would have none of this ; he did not want to be paid for saving miners' lives. ' It might,' he replied, 'undoubtedly enable me to ]iut four horses to my carriage ; but what could it avail me to have it said that Sir Humphry drives his carriage and four? ' AVhile the illustrious philosopher was thus eflecting his philanthropic design by a strictly scientitic course, a person then of little note, but afterwards the equal of Davy in fame, — George Stephenson, engine-wright at Killingworth Col- liery, near Newcastle, — was taxing his extra- ordinary genius to effect a similar object by means more strictly mechanical. In August 1815, he devised a safety lamp, which was tried with success on the subsequent 21st of October. Accompanied by his son Eobert, then a boy, and Mr Nicholas Wood, a superintendent at KiUing- worth, Stephenson that evening descended into the mine. ' Advancing alone, with his yet untried lamp, in the depths of those underground work- ings — calmly venturing his own life in the deter- mination to discover a mode by which the lives of many might be saved and death disarmed in these fatal caverns — he presented an example of intrepid nerve and manly courage, more noble even than that which, in the excitement of battle and the impetuosity of a charge, carries a man up to the cannon's mouth. Advancing to the place of danger, and entering within the foviled air, his lighted lamp in hand, Stephenson held it lirmlj^ out, in the full current of the blower, and within a few inches of its mouth. Thus exposed, the flame of the lamp at first increased, and then flickered and went out ; but there was no explo- sion of gas. . . . Such was the result of the tirst experiment with the first practical miner's safety lamp ; and such the daring resolution of its inven- tor in testing its valuable qualities !'* Stephenson's first idea was that, if he could establish a current within his lamp, by a chimney at its top, the gas would not take fire at the top of the chimney ; he was gradually led to connect with this idea, an arrangement by a number of small tubes for admitting the air below, and a third lamp, so constructed — being a very near approach to Davy's plan — was tried in the Kil- lingworth pit on the 30th of November, where to this day lamps constructed on that principle — and named the ' Geordy' — are in regular use. No one can noiv doubt that both Davy and Stephenson really invented the safety lamp, quite independently of each other: both adopted the same principle, but applied it difierently. To this day some of the miners prefer the ' Geordy ; ' others give their vote for the ' Davy ; ' while others again approve of lamps of later construc- tion, the result of a combination of improvements. In those days, however, the case was very differ- ent. A fierce lamp-war raged throughout 1816 and 1817. The friends of each party accused the other of stealing fame. Davy having the advantage * Smiles's Life of George Stephenson. 86 of an established reputation, nearly aU the men of science sided with him. They affected superb disdain for the new claimant, George Stephen- son, whose name they had never before heard. Dr Paris, in his Life of Davy, says : ' It wUl here- after be scarcely believed that an invention so eminently philosophic, and which could never have been derived but from the sterling treasury of science, should have been claimed on behalf of an engine-wright of KUlingworth, of the name of Stephenson — a person not even professing a knowledge of the elements of chemistry.' There were others, ckiefly men of the district, who de- feuded the rights of the ingenious engine-wright, whose modesty, however, prevented him from ever taking up an offensive position towards liis illustrious rival. MARRIAGE OF MR ABERNETHY. January 9, 1800, Mr Abernethy, the eccentric surgeon, was married to Miss Ann Threlfall. ' One circumstance on the occasion was very character- istic of him ; namely, his not allowing it to inter- rupt, even for a day, his course of lectures at the hospital. Many years after this, I met him coming into the hospital one day, a little before two (the hour of lecture), and seeing him rather smartly dressed, with a white waistcoat, I said, "You are very gay to-day, sir?" "Ay," said he; " one of the girls was married this morning." " Indeed, sir," I said. " You should have given yourself a holiday on such an occasion, and not come down to the lecture." "Nay," returned he ; " egad ! I came down to lecture the day I was married myself!" On another occasion, I recollect his being sent for to a case just before lecture. The case was close in the neighbour- hood, and it being a question of time, he hesitated a little ; but being pressed to go, he started off". He had, however, hardly passed the gates of the hospital before the clock struck two, when, all at once, he said: "No, I'll be if I do! " and returned to the lecture-room.' — Macilvain's Me- moirs of Abernethy, JANUARY 10. St Marcian, priest, fifth century. St Agatho, pope, 682. St Williata, archbishop of Bourges, confessor, 1209. St William was deemed a model of monastic perfection. ' The universal mortification of his senses and passions laid in him the foundation of an admirable purity of heart and an extraordinary gift of prayer ; in which he received great heavenly lights and tasted of the sweets which God has reserved for those to whom he is pleased to communicate himself. The sweetness and cheerfulness of his countenance testified the un- interrupted joy and peace that overflowed his soul, and made a virtue appear with the most engaging charms in the midst of austerities. . . . He always wore a hair shirt under his religious habit, and never added, nor diminished, anything in his clothes either winter or summer.' — Butler. Born. — Dr George Birkbeck, 1776. Bied. — Archbishop Laud (beheaded), 1645; Edward Cave, 1754; Admiral Boscawen, 1761 ; Linnxus, natu- ralist, 1778; Mary Kussell Mitford, authoress, 1855, DE BIEKBECK. JAISrUAEY 10. ABCnSISHOP LAUD. DR BIRKBECK. lu inquiring into the origin of that movement for popular instruction which has occupied so broad a space during this century, we are met by the name of George Birkbeck standing out in conspicuous characters. The son of a banker at Settle, in Yorkshire, and reared as a medical practitioner, he was induced at an early period of life to accept a professorship in what was called the Andersonian Institution of Glasgow, — a kind of popular university which had just then started into being, under circumstances which will be elsewhere adverted to. Here Birkbeck found great difficulty in getting appa- ratus made for a course of lectures on Natural and Experimental Philosophy ; and this suggested to him the establish- ment of popular lec- tures to working men, with a view to the spread of knowledge in various matters re- lating to the applica- tion of science to the practical arts. This was the germ from which Mechanics' In- stitutions afterwards sprang. The trustees of the Andersonian Institution had not Birkbeck's enthusi- asm ; they deemed the scheme visionary, and refused at fu'st to support it. In the autumn of 1800 he went to Yorkshire for a vacation, and there digested a plan for forming a class ' solely for persons engaged in the prac- tical exercise of the mechanical arts, men whose education in early life had pre- cluded even the pos- sibility of acquiring the smallest portion of scientific knowledge.' This mechanics' class was to be held in one of the rooms of the Andersonian Institution. On his return to Glasgow he opened communications with the chief owners of manufacturing estab- lishments, offering to the more intelligent woi'k- men free admission to his class. The first lecture was attended by 75 artisans ; it excited so much interest that 200 came to the second lecture, 300 to the third, and 500 to the fourth. His grateful pupils presented him with a silver cup at the close of the course, as a token of their appreciation of his disinterested kindness. He repeated these labours year after year till 1801, when he resigned his position at Glasgow to Dr TJre, who, like him, was at that time struggling into fame. Birkbeck married, came to London, and settled down as a physician. DR BIRKBECK, Many years elapsed, during which Dr Birk- beck was wholly absorbed in his professional duties. He did not, however, forget his early schemes ; and, as he advanced in life, he found or made opportunities for developing them. In 1820 he gave a gratuitous course of seventeen lectures at the London Institution. Gradually a wish spread in various quarters to put in operation the plan which had so long occupied the thoughts of Birkbeck — viz., to give instructions in science to working men. In 1821 a School of Arts was established at Edinburgh, chiefly through the instrumentality of Mr Leonard Horner. In 1823 a Mechanics' Institution was founded at Glasgow, and another in London, of which last Dr Birk- beck was very appropriately elected President, an office he filled till his death eighteen years after- wards. A controversy has recently arisen on the question whether Mr Jiobertson, the first editor of the Mechanics'' Magazine, is not entitled to the honour of being the first proposer of Me- chanics' Institutions ; let it suffice for our purpose to associate the three names of Brougham, Birkbeck, and llobertson in this useful labour, and leave to others the due apportionment of praise. ARCHBISHOP LAUD. The name of Laud \ does not savour agree- ably in the minds of Englishmen ; yet it will be generally ad- mitted that he was unjustly and vindic- tively treated. The career of the man from a humble ori- gin to the primate's throne, which he at- tained in 1G33, need not be detailed. Led by a love of the old ceremonies of the church — though, as he always alleged, with no affection for Rome— he became the principal minister of Charles I., in those imhappy movements for introducing episcopacy in Scotland and checking Puritanism in England, which, in combination with arbitrary political rule, brought on the Great Civil War. He was called to the council of Charles I., according to his own statement, against his will ; yet he devised and executed many unwarrantable revenue schemes : he, doubtless, believed in the divine right of kings, and being opposed, an unhappy infirmity of temper induced him to concur in many cruel and arbitrary schemes, to crush opposition, and render his master indepen- dent of parliaments. These expedients succeeded 87 SIB HENKY TELVEKTOK. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SIR HENKY YELVEKTON. for a while, but. at lonstli failinix. the king was conipeUoa to call his last parliaiuont, JNov. 3, 10 IJ); and earlv next yoixv the Arehbishop was impeac-hed of treasou by the Comnious. iiud sent to the Tower, where ho remained exposed to luanv hardships until his death. In 1613, he was'aeeiised of designs of overtlirowmg parlia- ments, and bringing about union with Ivonie. Prynne. the barrister, who was Laud's personal oneniy. eoUected evidence against him, seized his private papers, and even his prayer-book, and took his Diary by force out of his pocket. Prvnue tampered with the evidence to suit the views of his party, but the proofs were so weak tliat the Peers were disinclined to convict him. He has left a full and, on the whole, faithful account of his trial, in which he defended himself with courage and ability. The Commons then changed the impeachment to an ordinance for Laud's execution, to which the Lords assented ; he had procured a pardon from the king, which was disregarded, and Laud was brought to the block on Tower-hill, mainly, it is alleged, to gratify the extreme Presbyterians of Scotland, and induce them to go heartily on vrith the war, this party having been inspired with bitter feelings regarding the unhappy primate, whom they con- sidered as the main author of the calamities they had been for several years enduring. The last words of Laud were a solemn denial of the charge of aflection for Pome : his chaplain, Dr Sterne, attended him to the scaffold, where, after some minutes spent in prayer, his head was cut off at one blow, in the 72nd year of his age. His body was buried in the church of Allhallows, Barking, near the Tower, but in 1GG3 was removed to his college at Oxford. He had been for several years Chancellor of that University, to which he gave many valuable MSS., and where many other proofs of his munificent patronage of learning yet remain. He employed Inigo Jones to build the picturesque eastern wing of St John's ; here, in 1G36, he entertained at dinner, the King and Queen and Prince Pupert. He restored the painted windows in the chapel at Lambeth, it was alleged, ' by their like in the mass-book,' but this he utterly denied. AYhitelock says : ' Laud was too full of fire, though a just and good man ; and his want of experience in state matters and too much zeal for church ceremonies, if he proceeded in the way he was then in, would set the nation on fire.' Even at the University he had the character of being * at least very popishly inclined.' ' His bigotry and cruelty in the execution of his high olHce ought assuredly not to have gone unpun- ished ; but the sentence against him was, perhaps, the most unjustifiable act of the zealots of the Long Parliament ; and it appears strongly one of the disadvantages of government by a large assembly of men : for the odium of the death of Laud, being divided among so many, has neither brought with it individual infamy, nor was likely to produce individual remorse.' — Westminster lieview, vol. xvii. SIR IIEXIIY YELVEKTON. On the 10th January 1G09-10, Sir Henry Yelverton, Pecorder of Northampton, and a member of Parliament, wrote out an account of the measures he took for regaining the favour of the King and some of his state-oIUcers, which he had forfeited in consequence of the misunder- standing of some parts of his conduct and certain expressions which he had publicly used. Erom this document we get near glimpses of the King and some of his ministers, and it must be con- fessed that they do not suffer by being seen so near ; on the contrary, one becomes rather in- clined to think that they possessed at least the Christian graces of courtesy, patience, and pla- cableness in a creditable degree, and might be much more tolerable personages than they are usually represented to be by modern historians. According to Mr Foss, Sir Henry Yelverton, being returned by Northampton to the first par- liament of King James, ' took an independent, but not a factious part.' * An English parlia- ment Avas then like the Eeichsrath of Austria in our own time : it was expected to deliberate, but not to be very obstinate in thwarting the royal wishes. Yelverton thought rather more of the interest of the public than of the desires of the King. He did not fully and freely concur in granting the subsidy which was desired, but advocated its being graduated over a series of years, that its payment might be more easy. His language was plain and direct, and perhaps did include a few expressions that might have been better omitted. It was reported to James that Sir Henry Yelverton did not act as one of his friends in parliament. Moreover, he was said to have spoken on several occasions disrespectfully of the Scottish nation, and in particular of Sir George Dunbar, the Lord Treasurer of Scotland, and of the Earl of Dunfermline, its Chancellor. He soon learned that the King and these two ministers were deeply offended with him, and that the royal disfavour might prove a serious impediment to his advance in life. If Sir Henry Yelverton had been meaning to act the part of a high-flying patriot, he would, we may hope, have disregarded these hints and wrapped himself in his virtue, as many did in the next reign. But he had no such thing in view, nor was there then any great occasion at this time for a high patriotism. He was a good-natured though honest and sincere man, well-affected to the King, his officers, and nation ; and he saw no reason for remaining on bad terms with them, if a few words of explanation covild restore him to their good graces. He therefore resolved, if possible, to see the persons offended, and i)ut himself right with them. The firsl step he took was to consult aa ith a Scotch gentleman, ' one Mr Drummond,' as to the means of approaching the persons offended. We suspect this to have been AVilliam Drummond, the poet, who was just at this time returning from his legal studies at Paris, and would probably be passing through London on his way homewards ; but we only can speak by conjecture. By ' Mr Drummond ' Yelverton was recommended to use any favour he had with the Lady Arabella Stuart, the King's cousin, in order to make an advance to the Lord Chancellor Dunfermline, * Foss's Judges of England, 1857, vol. vi. p. 391. SIR HEXKY TELVEUTON. JANUAEY 10. THE PEXNY POST. who was then livinfr in London. By Lady Ara- bella's kind intervention, an interview was arranged between Yelverton and the Chancellor, which accordingly took place at the Scottish Secretary of State's house in IVanoirk Lane. This Chancellor, it may be remarked, was a Seton, a man of magnificent tastes, and most dignified and astute character. He frankly told Yelverton that the King had, on being spoken to on the subject, shewn himself grievously dis- pleased, but yet not unwilling to listen to any certain and authentic expression of his regret for the past, if such should be presented to him ; and the Chancellor undertook to lay a petition from Yelverton before his Majesty. The petition sets forth that he, Sir Henry Yelverton, had long been vexed with the grief of his Highness' displeasure, and that it added much to the petitioner's unhappiness that he could not see the way how to make known to his Highness his sorrow and the truth of his subjec- tion ; he adds : ' Pardon, most merciful Sovereign, him who, by misconstruction onljr, hath thus been wrapped and chained in your Highness' dis- pleasure ; for if ever, either by way of compari- son or otherwise, any word did ever slip me either in disgrace or diminution of the state of the Scottish nation, I neither wish mercy from God, nor grace from your Majesty ; yea, vouch- safe, most renowned and noble Sovereign, to credit me thus far, that I never so much as lisped out any word against the Union, which I as heartily seek as any subject can ; neither did ever in Pai-liament so much as whisper against the general naturalisation it seemed your High- ness upon weighty reasons did desire.' The arrangements for the interview being completed, Sir H. Yelverton thus narrates the detads : ' After which, the 6th of .January 1G09, being sent for to court by his lordship, about five of the clock in the afternoon, he brought me into the King's presence, where his Majesty sat alone in his chair in his bedchamber ; but soon after nw coming in, while I was on my knee, and his Majesty having entered into his speech, there came in, besides, my Lord of Dunbar (who was there at first), my Lord Chamberlain, and my Lord of Worcester, and stood all behind me. 'At my first coming in I made three low congees to his Majesty, and being somewhat far from him, stirring his hat, he beckoned his hand, and bade me come near ; so, coming on, the carpet was spread before his Majesty, and I kneeled on my right knee, and spake as foDoweth : ' " I humbly beseech your most excellent Ma- jesty to vouchsafe your gracious pardon for all offences past, which I protest were not wilfully committed, but only out of the error of my judgment, which I ever was and ever will be ready to reform as I shall be taught from your Majesty." * The King paused, and beckoning with his hand, thrice bade Sir Henry stand up, which he then did : stirring his hat again, ' with a mild coun- tenance,' he addressed Sir Henry at considerable length, complaining of his proposing a Bill to naturalise my Lord Kinloss, ' because he was half English, making a hateful distinction between him that was all Scot, and him that was some part of this nation. If he were a mere Scot, away with him ; but if he came from hence of any late time, then dandle him, and welcome him as a home-born : which reason M^as the worse made by you, tJiat knows much and can speak so sourly. For since my title to this crown hath fetched me out of Scotland, and that both nations are my subjects, and 1 their head, would you have the left side so strange from the right, as there should be no embracement nor intercourse between them ? Nay, you should rather have reasoned. We are now become brethren under one governor, and therefore what God hath joined let not us still keep in two.' The King then complained of Sir Henry's opposition to the subsidy, as well as to the union, to the general naturalisation of the Scots, to the commerce desirable between both nations, and to the abolition of the hostile laws. ' After his Majesty's speech. Sir Henry again knelt down, and, in whatsoever his Majesty should condemn him, would not labour to excuse him- self; but humbly desired to purge his offence by his lowliest submission and faithful promise of amendment hereafter.' Sir Henry then touched upon the several points of his Majesty's speech, and the King replied, and concluded with saying, ' I shut up all, and acquit you.' Sir Henry humbly thanked the King, who bade him stand up ; my Lord of Dunbar kneeling, desired that Sir Henry might kiss the king's hand, whereupon the king said, ' With all my heart,' and Sir Henry kissed the royal hand three times, bowed, and retired. On the 10th of January, Sir Henry Yelverton went to the Lord Treasurer at Whitehall, and thanked his lordship for the furtherance of his peace and reconciliation with the King, to which the Lord Treasurer replied, concluding with the friendly assurance : ' " But now all is well, and persuade yourself you have lost nothing by this jar between the King and you, for as by this the world knows you to be honest and sufficient, so the judgment of the King is, that there is good matter in you ; for myself, I will desire your friendship as you do mine, and will promise to do you my best ; whereupon in pledge I give you my hand :" and so, shaking me by the hand, he bid me farewell.' Soon after this reconciliation, viz. in 1G13, Mr Yelverton was made Solicitor-General, and knighted ; and in 1616, Attorney-General. In 1625, he was made one of the Justices of the King's Bench, and afterwards of the Common Pleas : and had not the Duke of Buckingham been suddenly cut off, he would, in aUprobability, have been made Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. THE PENNY POST. The 10th of January 18 10 wiU be a memorable day in the history of civilization, as that on which the idea of a Penny Postage was first exemplified. The practical benefits derived from this reform, are so well known that it is needless to dwell upon them. Let us rather turn attention for a iidv^ moments to the remarkable, yet most modest man, whom his species have to thank for this noble invention. Eowland Hill, born in 1795, 89 THE FKNXY TOST. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE TENNT POST. was devoted through, all his early years, even from boyhood, to tho business of a teacher. At the age of forty, we Jind him engaged in conduct- ing the colonization ol' Soulli Australia upon the plan of Mr. Edward tnbbou AVakefleld, for which his piowers of organization gave him a great ad- vantage, and in which his labours were attended with a high degree of success. It was about the year 1835, that he turned his attention to the postal system of the country, with the conviction that it was susceptible of reform. Under enor- mous ditllculties. he contrived to collect informa- tion upon the subject, so as to satisfy himself, and enable him to satisfy others, that the public might be benefited by a cheaper postage, and yet the revenue remain ultimately undiminished. The leading facts on which he based his conclu- sions have been detailed in an authoritative docu- ment. ' The cost of a letter to the Post-OiBce he saw was divisible into three branches. First, that of receiving the letter and preparing it for its journey, which, under the old regime, was troublesome enough, as the postage varied first in proportion to the distance it had to travel ; and again, according as it was composed of one, two, or three sheets of paper, each item of charge being exorbitant. For instance, a letter from London to Edinburgh, if single, was rated at Is. lid. ; if double, at 2s. 3d. ; and if treble, at 3s. 4kl.; any — the minutest — inclosure being treated as an additional sheet. The duty of taxing letters, or writing upon each of them its SIR EOWL.A.ND HILL. postage, thus became a complicated transaction, occupying much time and employing the labour of many clerks. This, and other duties, which we will not stop to specify, comprised the first of the three branches of expense which each letter imposed on the office. The second was the cost of transit from post-office to post-ofiice. And this expense, even for so great a distance as from London to Edinburgh, proved, upon careful ex- amination, to be no more than the ninth part of a farthing ! The third branch was that of delivering the letter and receiving the postage — letters being for the most part sent away un- paid. Rowland Hill saw that, although a con- siderable reduction of postage might and ought to be made, even if the change rested there, yet that, if he eould cheapen the cost to the Post- 1 90 office, the reduction to the public could be carried very much further, without entailing on the revenue any ultimate loss of serious amount. He therefore addressed himself to the simplification of the various processes. If, instead of charging according to the number of sheets or scraps of paper, a weight should be fixed, below which a letter, whatever might be its contents, should only bear a single charge, much trouble to the office would be spared, while an unjust mode of taxation would be abolished. For, certainly, a double letter did not impose double cost, nor a treble letter three-fold cost upon the Post-office. But, if the alteration had rested there, a great source of labour to the office would have remained; because postage would still have been augmented upon each letter in proportion to the distance it THE PENNY POST. JANUARY 11. ST THEODOSIUS, THE CCENOBIAECH. had to travel. In the absence of knowledge as to the very minute cost of mere transit, such an arrangement would appear just ; or, to place the question in another light, it would seem unjust to charge as much for delivering a letter at the distance of a mile from the office at which it was posted as for delivering a letter at Edinburgh transmitted from London. But when Rowland Hill had, by his investigation, ascertained that the diflference between the cost of transit in the one instance and the other was an insignificant fraction of a farthing, it became obvious that it was a nearer approximation to perfect justice to pass over this petty inequ.ality than to tax it even to the amount of the smallest coin of the realm. With regard to the third head, all that could be done for lessening the cost attendant on delivering the letters from house to house, was to devise some plan of pre-payment which should be acceptable to the public (so long accustomed to throw the cost of correspondence on the receiver of a letter instead of the sender), and which, at the same time, should not transfer the task of collection to the receiving-office, while it relieved the letter-carriers attached to the distributing office; otherwise comparatively little would have been gained by the change. This led to the proposal for pre-payment by stamped labels, whereby the Post-office is alto- gether relieved from the duty of collecting post- age. Thus, one by one, were the impediments all removed to the accomplishment of a grand object — uniformity of postage throughout the British Isles.' * It necessarily followed, from the economy thus proposed, that the universal rate might be a low one, which again might be expected to react favourably on the new system, in enabling a wider public to send and receive letters. A brother of Mr Hill had, a few years before, suggested the Fenny Magazine. Perhaps this was the basis of Mr Rowland Hill's conception, that each letter of a certain moderate weight should be charged one penny. The idea was simple and intelligible, and, when announced in a pamphlet in 1837, it was at once heartily em- braced by the public. Neither the government nor the opposition patronised it. The Post-office authorities discountenanced it as much as possible. Nevertheless, from the mere force of piiblic sen- timent, it was introduced into parliament and ratified in 1839. The Whig ministry of the day were so far just to Mr Hill, that they gave him a Treasury ap- pointment to enable liim to work out his plan, and this he held till the Conservative party came into power in 1841. Having been by them bowed out of office, on the allegation that his part of the business was accomplished, he might have shared the fate of many other public benefactors, if the community had not already become profoundly impressed with a sense of the value of his scheme. They marked their feeling towards him by a subscription which amounted to fifteen thousand pounds. On the replacement of the Whigs in 1846, he was brought back into office as Secretary to the Postmaster- * Our Exemplars, Poor and Rich. Edited by Matthew D. IliU. Loudon, 18G1, p. 317. General; in which position, and as Secretary to the Post-Office (to which honour he attained in 3854), he has been duly active in effecting im- provements having the public convenience in view. Of these the chief has been the organiza- tion of the Money-Order Office, by which up- wards of thirteen millions sterling are annually transmitted from hand to hand at an insignificant expense. Twenty-one years have now fnlly proved the virtues of the Penny Postage, under favour of which the number of letters transmitted by the Office annually has advanced from 77 to 545 millions, with an addition of outlay or cost on the part of the public amounting only to fifty per cent. Nor has England alone to thank Rowland HiU, for there is no civilised country which has not adopted his scheme. It was surely by a most worthy exercise of the royal power that the inventor of Penny Postage received in 1860 the dignity of Knight Commander of the Bath. JANUARY 11. St Hyginus, pope and martyr, 142. St Theodosius, the Ccenobiarch, 529. St Salvius or Sauve, bishop of Amiens, 7th century. St Egwin, bishop, confessor, 717. ST THEODOSIUS, THE CCENOBIARCH. St Theodosius died in 529, at the age of 104. He was a native of Cappadocia, but when a young man removed to Jerusalem, in the vicinity of which city he resided during the remainder of his life. ISe is said to have lived for about thirty years as a hermit, in a cave, but having been joined by other saintly persons, he finally established a monastic community not far from Bethlehem. He was enabled to erect a suitable building, to which by degrees he added churches, infirmaries, and houses for the reception of strangers. The monks of Palestine at that period were called Coenobites ; and Sallustius, bishop of Jei'usalem, having appointed Theodosius superintendent of the monasteries, he received the name of Cceno- biarch. He was banished by the Emperor Anastasius about the year 513, in consequence of liis opposition to the Eutychian heresy, but was recalled by the Emperor Jxistinus. ' The first lesson which he taught his monks was, that the continiial remembrance of death is the foundation of religious perfection ; to imprint this more deeply in their minds, he caused a great grave or pit to be dug, which might serve for the common burial-place of the Avhole community, that by the presence of this memorial of death, and by continually meditating on that object, they might more perfectly learn to die daily. The burial-place being made, the abbot one day, when he had led his monks to it, said: " The grave is made ; who will first perform the dedication ?" Basil, a priest, who was one of the number, fall- ing on his knees, said to St Theodosius : " I am the pei'son ; be pleased to give me your blessing." Tlic al)bot ordered the prayers of the Church for the dead to be offered up for him, and on the fortieth day, Basil wonderfully departed to our Lord in peace, without any apparent sickness.' — JButler. 91 HENKT DUKE OF NOEFOLK. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SIR nANS SLOANE. It may not bo superfluous, in all reverence, to remark that, -while a remembrance of our mor- tality is an cssent ial part of religion, it is not neces- sary to be continually thinking on that siibject. Life has active duties calling for a diilcrent exer- cise of our thoughts from day to day and through- out the hours of the day, and which ^YOuld necessarily be neglected if vre ■were to be obedient to the mandate of the Cccnobiarch. Generally, our activity depends on the hopes of living, not on our expectation of dying ; and perhaps it v-ould not be very dillicult to shew that the fact of our not being naturally disposed to dwell on the idea of an end to life, is one to be grateful for to the Author of the Universe, seeing that not merely our happiness, but in some degree our virtues, depend upon it. Born. — Francesco Mazzuoli rarmigitino, painter, Parma, 1503 ; Henry Duke of Norfolk, 1G54. Died. — Sir Hans Sloaue, M.D., 17.i3 ; Francois Rou- biliiic, sculptor, 1762 ; Dominic Cimarosa, musician, 1801; F. Schlegel, German critic, 1829. HEXllY DUKE OF NORFOLK. ]\Ir E. Browne (son of Sir Thomas Browne) tells us in his journal {Sloane MSS.) of the cele- bration of the birthday of Mr Henry Howard (afterwards Dukeof JN'orfolk) at Norwich, January 11. lGG-1, when they kept tip the dance till two o'clock in the morning. The festivities at Christ- mas, in the ducal palace there, are also described by Mr Browne, and we get an idea from them of the extravagant merry-makings which the national joy at the Eestoratiou had made fashionable. ' They had dancing every night, and gave enter- tainments to all that would come ; he built up a room on purpose to dance in, very large, and hung with the bravest hangings I ever saw ; his candlesticks, snuifers, tongs, fire- shovels, and andirons, were silver ; a ban- quet was given every night after dancing ; and three coaches were employed to fetch ladies every afternoon, the greatest of which would hold fourteen persons, and cost five hundred pound, without the harness, which cost six score more. 'January 5, Tuesday. I dined with Mr Howard, where we drank out of pure gold, and had the music all the while, with the like, answerable to the grandeur of [so] noble a per- son : this night I danc'd with him also. 'January 6. I din'dat my aunt Bendish's, and made an end of Christmas, at the duke's palace, with dancing at night, and a great banquet. His gates were open'd, and such a number of people tlock'd in, that all the beer they could set out in the streets could not divert the stream of the multitudes, till very late at night.' SIR HANS SLOANE. Sir Hans Sloane, Bart., the eminent physician and naturalist, from whose collections originated the British Museum, born at Killeleagh, in the north of Ireland, April 16, 1G60, but of Scotch extraction— his father having been the head of a colony of Scots settled in Ulster imder 92 James I. — gives us something like the model of a life perfectly useful in proportion to powers and opportunities. Having studied medicine and natural history, he settled in London in 168i, and was soon after elected a EeUow of the lioyal Society, to which he presented some curiosities. In 1G87 he Mas chosen a Fellow of the College of Physicians, and in the same year sailed for Jamaica, and remained there sixteen months, when he returned with a collection of 800 species of plants, and commenced publishing a Natural IlUtovt/ of Jamaica, the second volume of which did not appear until nearly twenty years subsequent to the first ; his collections in natural history, &c., then comprising 8,226 specimens in botany alone, besides 200 volumes of dried sam- ples of plants. In 1716 George I. created Sloane a baronet — a title to which no English physician had before attained. In 1719 he was elected President of the College of Physicians, which office he held for sixteen years ; and in 1727 he was elected President of the Iloyal Society. He zealously exercised all his official duties until the age of fourscore. He then retired to an estate which he had purchased at Chelsea, where he continued to receive the visits of scientific men, of learned foreigners, and of the Iloyal Family ; and he never refused admittance nor advice to rich or poor, though he was so infirm as but rarely to take a little air in his garden in a wheeled chair. He died after a short illness, bequeathing his museum to the public, on con- dition that £20,000 should be paid to his family ; which sum scarcely exceeded the intrinsic value of the gold and silver medals, and the ores and precious stones in his collection, which lie de- clares, in hia will, cost at least £50,000. His library, consisting of 3,556 manuscripts and 50,000 volumes, was included in the bequest. Parliament accepted the trust on the required conditions, and thus Sloane's collections formed the nucleus of the British Museum. Sir Hans Sloane was a generous public bene- factor. He devoted to charitable purposes every shilling of his thirty years' salary as physician to Christ's Hospital ; he greatly assisted to establish the Dispensary set on foot by the Col- lege of Physicians ; and he presented the Apo- thecaries' Company with the freehold of their Botanic Gardens at Chelsea. Sloane also aided in the formation of the Foundling Hospital. His remains rest in the churchyard of St Luke's, by the river-side, Chelsea, where his monument has an urn entwined Avith serpents. His life was protracted by extraordinary means : when a youth he was attacked by spitting of blood, which in- terrupted his education for three years ; but by abstinence from wine and other stimulants, and continuing, in some measure, this regimen ever afterwards, he was enabled to prolong his life to the age of ninety-three years;* exemplifying the truth of his favourite maxim — that sobriety, * Sir Edward Wilmot, the pbysician, was, when a youth, so far gone in consumption, that Dr. Rddcliffe, whom he consulted, gave his friends no hopes of his recovery, yet he lived to the age of ninety-three ; and Dr Heberden notes : " This has been the case with some others, who had many symptoms of consumption in youth." L0TTEEIE8. JANUARY 11. L0TTEEIE8. temperance, and moderation are tlie best pre- servatives that nature has granted to mankind. Sir Hans Sloane was noted for his hospitality, but there were three things he never had at his table — salmon, champagne, and burgundy. LOTTERIES. The first lottery in England, as far as is ascer- tained, began to be drawn on the 11th of January, 1569, at the west door of St Paul's Cathedral, and continued day and night till the 6th of May. The scheme, which had been announced two years before, shews that the lottery consisted of forty thousand lots or shares, at ten shillings each, and that it comprehended ' a great number of good prizes, as well of ready money as of plate, and certain sorts of merchandize.' The object of any profit that might arise from the scheme was the reparation of harbours and other useful public works. Lotteries did not take their origin in England ; they were known in Italy at an earlier date ; but from the year above named, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, down to 1826, (excepting for a short time following upon an Act of Queen Anne.) they continued to be adopted by the English government, as a source of revenue. It seems strange that so glaringly immoral a project should have been kept up with such sanction so long. The younger people at the present day may be at a loss to believe that, in the days of their fathers, there were large and imposing offices in London, and pretentious agencies in the provinces, for the sale of lottery tickets ; while flaming advertisements on walls, in new books, and in the public journals, proclaimed the prefex-ablenessofsuchand such 'lucky' offices — this one having sold two-sixteenths of the last twenty thousand pounds prize ; that one a half of the same ; another having sold an entire thirty thou- sand pound ticket the year before ; and so on. It was found possible to persuade the public, or a portion of it, that where a blessing had once lighted it was the more likely to light again. The State lottery was framed on the simple principle, that the State held forth a certain sum to be repaid by a larger. The transaction was usually managed thus. The government gave £10 in prizes for every share taken, on an average. A great many, blanks, or of prizes under £10, left, of course, a surplus for the creation of a few magnificent prizes wherewith to attract the un- wary public. Certain firms in the city, known as lottery -office-keepers, contracted for the lottery, each taking a certain number of shares ; the sum paid by them was always more than £10 per share ; and the excess constituted the government profit. It was customary, for many years, for the con- tractors to give about £16 to the government, and then to charge the public from £20 to £22. It was made lawful for the contractors to divide the shares into halves, quarters, eighths, and six- teenths ; and the contractors always charged relatively more for these aliquot parts. A man with thirty shillings to spare could buy a six- teenth ; and the contractors made a large portion of their profit out of such customers. The government sometimes paid the prizes in terminable annuities instead of cash ; and the loan system and the lottery system were occa- sionally combined in a very odd way. Thus, in 1780, every subscriber of £1000 towards a loan of £12,000,000, at four per cent., received a bonus of four lottery tickets, the value of each of which was £10, and any one of which might be the fortunate number for a twenty or thirty thousand pounds prize. Amongst the lottery offices, the competition for business was intense. One firm, finding an old woman in the country named Goodluck, gave her fifty pounds a year on condition that she would join them as a nominal partner, for the sake of the attractive effect of her name. In their ad- vertisements each was sedulous to tell how many of the grand prizes had in former years fallen to the lot of persons who had bought at his shop. Woodcuts and copies of verses were abundant, suited to attract the uneducated. Lotteries, by creating illusive hopes, and supplanting steady industry, wrought immense mischief. Shopmen robbed their masters, servant girls their mis- tresses, friends borrowed from each other under false pretences, and husbands stinted their wives and children of necessaries — all to raise the means for buying a portion or the whole of a lottery ticket. But, although the humble and ignorant were the chief purchasers, there were many others who ought to have known better. In the interval between the purchase of a ticket and the drawing of the lottery, the speculators were in a state of unhealthy excitement. On one oc- casion a fraudulent dealer managed to sell the same ticket to two persons ; it came up a five hundred pound prize ; and one of the two went raving mad when he found that the real ticket was, after all, not held by him. On one occasion circumstances excited the public to such a degree that extravagant biddings were made for the few remaining shares in the lottery of that year, until at length one hundred and twenty guineas were given for a ticket on the day before the drawing. One particular year was marked by a singular incident : a lottery ticket was given to a child inihorn, and was drawn a prize of one thousand pounds on the day after his birth. In 1767 a lady residing in Holborn had a lottery ticket presented to her by her husband ; and on the Sunday preceding the drawing her success was frayed fur in the parish church, in this form : ' The prayers of this congregation are desired for the success of a person engaged in a new under- taking.' In the same year the prize (or a prize) of twenty thousand pounds fell to the lot of a tavern-keeper at Abingdon. We are told, in the journals of the time — 'The broker who went from town to carry him the news he compli- mented with one hundred pounds. All the bells in the town were set a ringing. He called in his neighbours, and promised, to assist this with a capital sum, that with another ; gave away plenty of liquor, and vowed to lend a poor cobbler money to buy leather to stock his stall so full that he should not be able to get into it to work ; and lastly, he promised to buy a new coach for the coachman who brought him down the ticket, and to give a set of as good horses as could be bought for money.' The theory of ' lucky numbers' was ia great 03 LOTTERIES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. PLOUGH MONDAY. favour in tlie days of lotteries. At the drawing, papers were put into ii lioUow wheel, inscribed with, as many different numbers as there were shares or tickets ; one of these was drawn out (usually by a Blue-coat boy, who had a holiday and a "present on sucli occasions), and the num- ber audibly announced; another Blue-coat boy then drew out of another wheel a paper denoting either ' blank' or a ' prize' for a certain sum of money ; and the purchaser of that particular num- ber was awarded a blank or a prize accordingly. "With a view to lucky numbers, one man would select his own age, or the age of his wife ; another would select the date of the year ; another a row of odd or of even numbers. Persons who went to rest with their thoughts full of lottery tickets were very likely to dream of some one or more numbers, and such dreams had a fearful influ- ence on the wakers on the following morning. The readers of the Spectator will remember an amusing paper (No. 191, Oct. 9th, 1711), in which the subject of lucky numbers is treated in a manner pleasantly combining banter with useful caution. The man who selected 1711 because it was the year of our Lord ; the other who sought for 134, because it constituted the minority on a celebrated bUl in the Hoixse of Commons ; the third who selected the ' mark of the Beast,' 666, on the ground that wicked beings are often lucky ^these may or may not have been real instances quoted hj the Spectator, but they serve well as types of classes. One lady, in 1790, bought No. 17090, because she thought it was the nearest in sound to 1790, which was already sold to some other applicant. On one occasion a tradesman bought four tickets, consecutive in numbers : he thought it foolish to have them so close together, and took one back to the ofHce to be exchanged ; the one thus taken back tiu'ned up a twenty thousand pounds prize ! The lottery mania brought other evils in its train. A species of gambling sprang up, re- sembling time-bargains on the Stock Exchange ; in which two persons, A and B, lay a wager as to the price of Consols at some future day ; neither intend to buy or to sell, although nominally they treat for £10,000 or £100,000 of stock. So in the lottery days ; men who did not possess tickets nevertheless lost or won by the failure or success of particular numbers, through a species of in- surance which was in effect gambling. The mat- ter was reduced almost to a mathematical science, or to an application of the theory of probabilities. Treatises and Essays, Tables and Calculations, were published for the benefit of the speculators. One of them, Painter s Guide to the Lottery, published in 1787, had a very long title-page, of which the following is only a part : — ' The whole business of Insuring Tickets in the State Lottery clearly explained ; the several advantages taken by the office keepers pointed out ; an easy method fiven, whereby any person may compute the 'robability of his Success upon purchasing or in- suring any particular number of tickets ; with a Table of the prices of Insurance for every day's drawing in the ensuing Lottery ; and another Table, containing the number of tickets a person ought to purchase to make it an equal chance to have any particular prize.' 94 ' This being in 1864 the first Monday after Twelfth Day, is for the year Plough Monday. Such was the name of a rustic festival, hereto- foi-e of great account in England, bearing in its first aspect, like St Distaff's Day, reference to the resumption of labour after the Christmas holidays. In Catholic times, the ploughmen kept lights burning before certain images in churches, to obtain a blessing on their work ; and they were accustomed on this day to go about in procession, gathering money for the support o?t)ie?ie plough- lights, as they were called. The [Reformation pxit out the lights ; but it could not extinguish the festival. The peasantry contrived to go about in procession, collecting money, though only to be spent in conviviality in the public-house. It was at no remote date a very gay and rather pleasant- looking affair. A plough was dressed up with ribbons and other decorations — the Fool Plough. Thirty or forty stalwart swains, with their shirts over their jackets, and their shoulders and hats flaming with ribbons, dragged it along from house to house, preceded by one in the dress of an old woman, but much bedizened, bearing the name of Bessy. There was also a^Eool, in fantastic attire. In some parts of the country, morris- dancers attended the procession ; occasionally, too, some reproduction of the ancient Scan- dinavian sword-dance added to the means of per- suading money out of the pockets of the lieges. A Correspondent, who has borne a part (cow- horn blowing) on many a Plough Monday in Lincolnshire, thus describes what happened on these occasions under his own observation : — ' Eude though it was, the Plough procession threw a life into the dreary scenery of winter, as it came winding along the quiet rutted lanes, on its way from one village to another ; for the ploughmen from many a surrounding tliorpe, hamlet, and lonely fai-m-house united in the cele- bration of Plough Monday. It was nothing mw- usual for at least a score of the " sons of the soil" to yoke themselves with ropes to the plough, having put on clean smock-frocks in honour of the day. There was no limit to the number who joined in the morris-dance, and were partners with " Bessy," who carried the money-box ; and all these had ribbons in their hats and pinned about them wherever there was room to display a bunch. Many a hardworking country Molly lent a helping hand in decorating out her Johnny for Plough Monday, and finished him with an admiring exclamation of — " Lawks, John ! thou does look smart, surely." Some also wore small bunches of corn in their hats, from which the wheat was soon shaken out by the ungainly jumping which they called dancing. Occasionally, if the winter was severe, the procession was joined by threshers carrying their flails, reapers bearing their sickles, and carters with their long whips, which they were ever cracking to add to the noise, while even the smith and the miller were among the number, for the one sharpened the plough-shares and the other ground the corn ; and Bessy rattled his box and danced so high that he shewed his worsted stockings and corduroy breeches ; and PLOUGH MONDAY. JANUAEY 11. PLOUGH MONDAY. very often, if there was a thaw, tucked up his gown skirts under his waistcoat, and shook the bonnet off his head, and disarranged the long ringlets that ought to have concealed his whiskers. For Betsy is to the procession of Plough Monday what the leading Jiff urante is to an opera or bal- let, and dances about as gracefully as the hippo- potami described by Dr Livingstone. But these rough antics were the cause of much laughter, andrarely do we ever remember hearing any coarse PROCESSION OF THE PLOUGH ON PLOUGH MONDAY. jest that would call up the angry blush to a modest cheek. ' No doubt they were called " ploiigh bullocks," through drawing the plough, as bullocks were formerly used, and are stdl yoked to the plough in some parts of the country. The rubbishy verses they recited are not worth preserving beyond the line which graces many a public-house sign of " God speed the plough." At the large farm-house, besides money they obtained re- freshment, and through the quantity of ale they thus drank during the day, managed to get what they called " their load" by night. Even the poorest cottagers dropped a few pence into Bessy's bo.x. ' But the great event of the day was when they came before some house which bore signs that the owner was well-to-do in the world, and nothing was given to them. Bessy rattled his box and the ploughmen danced, while the country lads blew their bullocks' horns, or shouted with all their might ; but if there was still no sign, no coming forth of either bread-and-cheese or ale, then the word was given, the ploughshare driven into the ground before the door or window, the whole twenty men yoked pulling like one, and in a minute or two the ground before the house was as brown, barren, and ridgy as a newly-ploughed field. But this was rarely done, for everybody gave something, and were it but little the men never murmured, though they might talk about the stinginess of the giver afterwards amongst themselves, more especially if the party was what they called " well off in the world." Vi'e are not aware that the ploughmen were ever summoned to answer for such a breach of the law, for they believe, to use their own expressive language, " they can stand by it, and no law in the world can touch 'em, 'cause it's an old charter;" and we are sure it would spoil their " folly to be wise." ' One of the mummers generally wears a fox's skin in the form of a liood ; but beyond the laughter the tail that hangs down his back awakens by its motion as he dances, we are at a loss to find a meaning. Bessy formerly wore a bullock's tail behind, under his gown, and which he held in his hand while dancing, but that appendage has not been worn of late. • Some writers believe it is called White Plough Monday on account of the mummers having worn their shirts outside their other gar- ments. This they may have done to set off the gaudy-coloured ribbons ; though a clean white smock frock, such as they are accustomed to wear, would shew off their gay decorations quite as well. The shirts so worn we have never seen. Others have stated that Plough Monday has its origin from ploughing again commencing at this season. But this is rarely the case, as the ground is generally too hard, and the ploughing is either done in autumn, or is rarely begun until February, and very often not until the March sun has warmed and softened the ground. Some again argue that Plough Monday is a festival held in remembrance of " the plough having ceased from its labour." After weighing all these arguments, we have come to the conclusion that the true light in which to look at the origin 95 DUTIES OF A DAV. THE BOOK OF DAYS. crXIES OF A DAT. of this ancient cnstoni is that thrown upon the subjeet by the plouj^hman's caudk\ burnt in the church at the slu-ine of some saint, and that to maintain this lic;ht contributions were collected and sanctioned bv the Church, and that the priests were the oriijinators of riou^h Monday.' At AVhitbv. in Yorkshire, according to its his- torian, the liev G. Young, there was usually an extra band oi' six to dance the sword-dance. With one or nu^re musicians to give them music on the violin or ilute, they first arranged them- selves in a ring with tlieir swords raised in the air. Then tliey went through a series of evolu- tions, at first slow and simple, afterwards more rapid and complicated, but always graceful. ' Towards the close each one catches the point of his neighbour's sword, and various movements take place in consequence ; one of which consists in joining or plaiting the swords into the form of an elegant hexagon or rose, in the centre of the ring. Avhifh rose is so firmly made that one of them holds it up above their heads without un- doing it. The dance closes with taking it to pieces, each man laying hold of his own sword. During the dance, two or three of the company called"To;«5 or Cloiois, dressed up as harlequins, in most fantastic modes, having their faces painted or masked, are making antic gestures to amuse the spectators ; while another set called Madgies or Madgy Pegs, clumsily dressed in •women's clothes, and also masked or painted, go from door to door rattling old canisters, in which they receive money. Where they are well paid they raise a huzza ; where they get nothing, they shout " hunger and starvation ! " ' Domesticlife in old times, however rude and comfortless compared with what it now is, or may be, was relieved by many little jocularities and traits of festive feeling. When the day came for the renewal of labour in earnest, there was a sort of competition between the maids and the men which should be most prompt in rising to work. If the ploughmen were up and dressed at the fire- side, with some of their held implements in hand, before the maids could get the kettle on, the latter party had to furnish a cock for the men next Shrovetide. As an alternative upon this statute, if any of the ploughmen, returning at night, came to the kitchen hatch, and cried ' Cock in the pot,' before any maid could cry ' Cock on the dunghill 1' she incurred the same forfeit. DL'TIES OF A DAY IX JANUARY FOR A PLOUGH- MAN IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Gervase Markham gives an account of these in his Fareicell to Kushandry, 1653 ; and he starts with an allusion to the popular festival now under notice. ' We will,' says he, ' suppose it to be after Christmas, or about Plow Day, (which is the first Betting out of the plow,) and at what time men either begin to fallow, or to break up pease- earth, which is to lie to bait, according to the custom of the country. At this time the Plow- man shall rise before four o'clock in the morning, and after thanks given to God for his rest, and the success of his labours, he shall go into his stable or beast-house, and first he shall fodder his cattle, then clean the house, and make the booths 96 [stalls?] clean ; rub down the cattle, and cleanse their skins from all filtii. Then he shall curry his horses, rub them with cloths and wisps, and make both them and the stable as clean as may be. Tlien lie shall water both his oxen and horses, and housing them again, give them more fodder and to his liorse by all means provender, as chaff and dry pease or beans, or oat-hulls, or clean garbage (which is the hinder ends of any grain but rye), with the straw chopped small amongst it, according as the ability of the husbandman is. ' And wliile they arc eating their meat, he shall make ready his collars, hames, treats, lialters. mullers, and plow-gears, seeing everything fit and in its due place, and to these labours I will also allow two liours ; that is, from four of the clock till six. Then he shall come in to breakfast, and to that I allow him half an hour, and then another half hour to the yoking and gearing of his cattle, so that at seven he may set forth to his labours ; and then he shall plow from seven o'clock in the morning till betwixt two and three in the after- noon. Then he shall unyoke and bring home his cattle, and having rubbed them, dressed them, and cleansed them from all dirt and filth, he shall fodder them and give them meat. Then shall the servants go in to their dinner, which allowed half an hour, it will then be towards four of the clock ; at what time he shall go to his cattle again, and rubbing them down and cleansing their stalls, give them more fodder ; which done, he shall go into the barns, and provide and make ready fodder of all kinds for the next day ' This being done, and carried into the stable, ox-house, or other convenient place, he shall then go water his cattle, and give them more meat, and to his horse provender; and by this time it will draw past six o'clock; at what time he shall come in to supper, and after supper he shall either sit by the fireside, mend shoes both for himself and their family, or beat and knock hemp or flax, or pick and stamp apples or crabs for cider or vinegar, or else grind malt on the querns, pick candle rushes, or do some husbandly THE QUERN. oiUce till it be fully eight o'clock. Then shall he take his lanthorn and candle, and go see his cattle, and having cleansed his stalls and planks, litter them down, look that they are safely tied, and then fodder and give them meat for all night. Then, giving God thanks for benefits received that day, let him and the whole household go to their rest tdl the next morning.' ST BENEDICT BISCOP. JANUARY 12. GBEAT EATEE8. It is rather surprising to find the quern, the hand-mill of Scripture, continuing in use in Eng- land so late as the time of the Commonwealth, though only for the grinding of malt. It is uotv obsolete even in the Highlands, but is still used in the Faroe Islands. The stone mill of Bible times appears to have been di'iven by two women ; but in Western Europe it was fashioned to be driven by one only, sometimes by a fixed handle, and sometimes by a moveable stick inserted in a hole in the circumference. JANUARY 12. St Arcadius, martyr. St Benedict, commonly called Bennet, 690. St Tygrius, priest. St jElred, 1166. ST BENEDICT BISCOP. Biscop was a Northumbrian monk, who paid several visits to Home, collecting relics, pictures, and books, and finally was able to found the two monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow. Lam- barde, who seems to have been no admirer of ornamental architecture or the fine arts, thus speaks of St Benedict Biscop : ' This man laboured to Rome five several tymes, for what other thinge I find not save only to procure pope-holye privi- leges, and curious ornaments for his monasteries, Jarrow and Weremouth; for first he gotte for theise houses, wherein he nourished 600 monks, great liberties ; then brought he them home from Rome, painters, glasiers, free-masons, and singers, to th' end that his buildings might so shyne with workmanshipe, and his churches so sounde with melodye, that simple souls ravished there- withe should fantasie of theim nothinge but heavenly holynes. In this jolitie continued theise houses, and other by theire example em- braced the like, tiU Hinguar and Hubba, the Danish pyrates, a.d. 870, were raised by God to abate their pride, who not only fyred and spoyled them, but also almost all the religious houses on the north-east coast of the island.' Born. — George Fourth Earl of Clarendon, 1800. Died. — The Emperor Maximilian I., 1519 ; the Duke of Alva, Lisbon, 1583 ; John C. Lavater, 1801, Zurich. THE DUKE OF ALVA. This great general of the Imperial army and Minister of State of Charles v., was educated both for the field and the cabinet, though he owed his promotion in the former service rather to the caprice than the perception of his sove- reign, who promoted him to the first rank in the army more as a mark of favour than from any consideration of his military talents. He was undoubtedly the ablest general of his age. He was principally distinguished for his skill and prudence in choosing his positions, and for main- taining strict discipline in his troops. He often obtained, by patient stratagem, those advantages which would have been thrown away or dearly acquired by a precipitate encounter with the enemy. On the Emperor wishing to know his opinion about attacking the Turks, he advised 7 him rather to build them a golden bridge than offer them a decisive battle. Being at Cologne, and avoiding, as he always did, an engagement with the Dutch troops, the Archbishop urged him to fight. ' The object of a general,' an- swered the Duke, ' is not to fight, but to conquer ; he fights enough who obtains the victory.' Dur- ing a career of so many years, he never lost a battle. While we admire the astute commander, we can never hear the name of Alva without horror for the cruelties of which he was guilty in his endeavours to preserve the Low Countries for Spain. During his government in Holland, he is reckoned to have put 18,000 of the citizens to death. Such were the extremities to which fanaticism could carry men generally not defi- cient in estimable qualities, during the great controversies which rose in Europe in the six- teenth and seventeenth centuries. GREAT EATERS. Under January 12, 1722-3, Thomas Hearne, the antiquary, enters in his Diary, what he had learned regarding a man who had been at Oxford not long before, — a man remarkable for a morbid appetite, leading him to devour large quantities of raw, half-putrid meat. The common story told regarding him was, that he had once at- tempted to imitate the Saviour in a forty days' Lent fast, broke down in it, and ' was taken with this unnatural way of eating.' One of the most remarkable gluttons of modern times was Nicholas Wood, of Harrison, in Kent, of whom Taylor, the Water Poet, wrote an amusing account, in which the follow- ing feat is described : ' Two loynes of mutton and one loyne of veal were but as three sprats to him. Once, at Sir Warham St Leger's house, he shewed himself so violent of teeth and sto- mach, that he ate as much as would have served and sufficed thirty men, so that his belly was like to turn bankrupt and break, but that the serving- man turned him to the fire, and anointed his paunch with grease and butter, to make it stretch and hold ; and afterwards, being laid in bed, he slept eight hours, and fasted all the while; which, when the knight understood, he com- manded him^ to be laid in the stocks, and there to endui'e as long as he had laine bedrid with eating.' In a book published in 1823, under the title of Points of Humour, having illustrations by the unapproachable George Cruikshank, there is a droll anecdote regarding an inordinate eater : 'When Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden, was besieging Prague, a boor of a most extra- ordinary visage desired admittance to his tent; and being allowed to enter, he offered, by way of amusement, to devour a large hog in his presence. The old General Kojnigsmark, who stood by the King's side, hinted to his royal master that the peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. " Sir," said the fellow, irritated at the remark, " if your Majesty will but make that old gentleman take off his sword and spurs, I wiU eat him before I begin the pig." General Koenigsmark, who, at the head of a body of Swedes, performed ^ 97 EAKLY RISING IK WINTEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ETTNNING FOOTMEIT. wonders a£;ainst tlio Austrians, could not stand tliis proposal, espeeiallj' as it was accompanied by a most hideous expansion of tlie jaws and mouth. Without uttering a word, the veteran turned pale, and suddenly ran out of the tent ; nor did he think himself safe till he arrived at his quarters.' E.VRLY EISING IN WINTER. Lord Chatham, writing to his nephew, January 12. 175-i, says: — ' Vitanda est improha S>/ren, Desidia, I desire may be affixed to the curtains of your bedchamber. If you do not rise early, you can never make any progress worth mention- ing. If you do not set apart your hours of reading ; if you suffer yourself or any one else to break in upon them, your days will slip through 3'our hands unprofitably and frivolously, unpraised by all you wish to please, and reaUy unenjoyed by yourself.' It must, nevertheless, be owned that to rise earl}- in cold weather, and in the gloomy dusk of a January morning, requires no small exertion of virtuous resolution, and is by no means the least of life's trials. Leigh Hunt has described the trying character of the crisis in his Indicator : ' On opening my eyes, the first thing that meets them is my own breath rolling forth, as if in the open air, like smoke out of a cottage- chimney. Think of this symptom. Then I turn my eyes sideways and see the window all frozen over. Think of that. Then the servant comes in. "It is very cold this morning, is it not?" — " Very cold, sir."- — " Very cold indeed, isn't it ?" — " Very cold indeed, sir." — " More than usually 80, isn't it, even for this weather?" (Here the servant's wit and good nature are put to a con- siderable test, and the inquirer lies on thorns for the answer.) " Why, sir, .... I think it is." (Good creature ! There is not a better or more truth-telling servant going.) " I must rise, how- ever. Get me some warm water." — Here comes a fine interval between the departure of the ser- vant and the arrival of the hot water ; during which, of course, it is of "no use" to get up. The hot water comes. " Is it quite hot ?" — " Yes, sir." — " Perhaps too hot for shaving : I must wait a little ?"-— " No, sir ; it will just do." (There is an over-nice propriety sometimes, an ofiicious zeal of virtue, a little troublesome.) " Oh— the shirt — you must air my clean shirt : — linen gets very damp this weather." — "Yes, sir." Here another delicious five minutes. A knock at the door. " Oh, the shirt — very well. My stockings — I think the stockings had better be aired too." — " Very well, sir." — Here another interval. At length everything is ready, except myself. I now cannot help thinking a good deal — who can ? — upon the unnecessary and villanous custom of shaving ; it is a thing so unmanly (here I nestle closer) — so efi'eminate, (here I recoil from an unlucky step into the colder part of the bed.)— Ko wonder, that the queen of France took part with the rebels against that degenerate king, her husband, who first aSronted her smooth visage with a face like her own. The Emperor Julian never showed the luxuriancy of his genius to better advantage than in reviving the flowing beard. Look at Cardinal Bembo's picture — at Michael Angelo's— at Titian's— at Shakspeare's — at Fletcher's — at Spenser's — at Chaucer's — at Alfred's — at Plato's. I could name a great man for every tick of my watch. Look at the Turks, a grave and otiose people — Think of Haroun AI Easchid and Bed-ridden Hassan — Think of Wortley Montague, the worthy son of his mother, a man above the prejudice of his time — Look at the Persian gentlemen, whom one is ashamed of meeting about the suburbs, their dress and appearance are so much finer than our own— Lastly, think of the razor itself — how totally opposed to every sensation of bed — how cold, how edgy, how hard ! how utterly different from anything like the warm and circling ampli- tude which Sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. Add to this, benumbed fingers, which may help you to cut yourself, a quivering body, a frozen towel, and an ewer full of ice ; and he that says there is nothing to oppose iu all this, only shews, at any rate, that he has no merit in opposiag it.' Down to the time of our grandfathers, while there was less conveniency in the world than now, there was much more state. The nobHity lived in a very dignified way, and amongst the particulars of their grandeur was the custom of keeping running footmen. All great people deemed it a necessary part of their travelling equipage, that one or more men should run in front of the carriage, not for any useful purpose, unless it might be in some instances to assist in lifting the carriage out of ruts, or helping it through rivers, but principally and professedly as a mark of the consequence of the traveller. Roads being generally bad, coach travelling was not rapid in those days ; seldom above five miles an hour. The straiu required to keep up with his master's coach was accordingly not very severe on one of these officials ; at least, it was not so till towards the end of the eighteenth century, when, as a consequence of the acceleration of travelling, the custom began to be given up. Nevertheless, the running footman required to be a healthy and agile man, and both in his dress and his diet a regard was had to the long and comparatively rapid journeys which he had to perform. A light black cap, a jockey coat, white linen trousers, or a mere linen shirt coming to the knees, with a pole six or seven feet long, con- stituted his outfit. On the top of the pole was a hollow ball, in which he kept a hard-boiled egg, or a little white wine, to serve as a refreshment in his journey ; and this ball-topped pole seems to be the original of the long silver-headed cane which is still borne by footmen at the backs of the carriages of the nobility. A clever runner in his best days would undertake to do as much as seven miles an hour, when necessary, and go three-score miles a day; but, of course, it was HUNNINa FOOTMEN. JANUAEY 12. ETTNNINO FOOTMEN. not possible for any man to last long who tasked himself in this manner. The custom of keeping running footmen sur- vived to such recent times that Sir Walter Scott remembered seeing the state-coach of John Earl of Hopetoun attended by one of the fraternity, ' clothed in white, and bearing a staff.' It is believed that the Duke of Queensberry who died in 1810, kept up the practice longer than any other of the London grandees : and Mr Thorns tells an amusing anecdote of a man who came to be hired for the duty by that ancient but far from venerable peer. His grace was in the habit of trying their paces by seeing how they could run up and down Piccadilly, he watching and timing them from his balcony. They put on a livery before the trial. On one occasion, a candidate presented himself, dressed, and ran. At the conclusion of his performance he stood before the balcony. ' You will do very well for me,' said the duke. 'And your livery will do very weU for me,' replied the man, and gave the duke a last proof of his ability as a runner by then running away with it.* Eunning footmen were employed by the Aus- trian nobility down to the close of the last cen- tury. Mrs St George, describing her visit to Vienna at that time,t expresses her dislike of the custom, as cruel and unnecessary. ' These un- happy people,' she says, 'always precede the carriage of their masters in town, and sometimes even to the suburbs. They seldom live above * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., i. 9. t Journal kept during a visit to Germany, in 1799, 1800. Privately printed. 1861, three or four years, and generally die of con- sumption. Fatigue and disease are painted in their pallid and drawn features ; but, like victims, they are crowned with flowers, and adorned with tinsel.' The dress of the official abroad seems to have been of a very gaudy character. A contri- butor to the Notes and Queries describes in vivid terms the appearance of the three footmen who preceded the King of Saxony's carriage, on a road near Dresden, on a hot July day in 1845 : ' Pirst, in the centre of the dusty chaussee, about thirty yards ahead of the foremost horses' heads, came a tail, thin, white-haired old man ; he looked six feet high, about seventy years of age, but as lithe as a deer ; his legs and body were clothed in drawers or tights of white linen ; his jacket was like a jockey's, the colours blue and yellow, with lace and fringes on the facings ; on his head a sort of barret cap, slashed and orna- mented with lace and embroidery, and decorated in front with two curling heron's plumes ; round his waist a deep belt of leather with silk and lace fringes, tassels, and quaint embroidery, which seemed to serve as a sort of pouch to the wearer. In his right hand he held, grasped by 99 KUNNING FOOTMEN. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST VERONICA. tlie niiddlo. a stafF about two feet long, carved and pointed witli a silver head, and something like bells or metal drops hung round it, that gingled as he ran. liehind him, one on each side of the road, dressed and accoutred in the same style, came his two sons, liaudsome, tall young fellows of from twenty to twenty-five years of age ; and so the king passed on.' In our country, the running footman was occa- sionally employed upon simple errands when un- usual dispatch was required. In the neighbourhood of various great houses in Scotland, the countrj^ people still tell stories illustrative of the singular speed which these men attained. For example : the Earl of Home, residing at Hume Castle in Berwickshire, had occasion to send his foot- man to Edinburgh one evening on important business. Descending to the hall in the morning, he found the man asleep on a bench, and, think- ing he had neglected his duty, prepared to chas- tise him, but found, to his surprise, that the man had been to Edinburgh (thirty-five miles) and back, with his business sped, since the past even- ing. As another instance : the Duke of Lauder- dale, in the reign of Charles II., being to give a large dinner-party at his castle of Thirlstane, near Lauder, it was discovered, at the laying of the cloth, that some additional plate would be required from the Duke's other seat of Lething- ton, near Haddington, fuUy fifteen miles distant across the Lammermuir hills. The running footman instantly darted off, and was back with the required articles in time for dinner ! The great boast of the running footman was that, on a long journey, he could beat a horse. ' A tra- ditional anecdote is related of one of these fleet messengers (rather half-witted), who was sent from Glasgow to Edinburgh for two doctors to come to see his sick master. He was interrupted on the road with an inc[uiry how his master was now. " He's no dead yet," was the reply ; " but he'll soon be, for I'm fast on the way for twa Edinburgh doctors to come and visit him." ' * Langham, an Irishman, who served Henry Lord Berkeley as running footman in Elizabeth's time, on one occasion, this noble's wife being sick, ' carried a letter from Callowdon to old Dr Fryer, a physician dwelling in Little Britain in London, and returned with a glass bottle in his hand, compounded by the doctor, for the reco- very of her health, a journey of 148 miles per- formed by him in less than forty-two hours, notwithstanding his stay of one night at the physician's and apothecary's houses, which no one horse could have so well and safely per- formed; for which the Lady shall after give him a new suit of clothes.' — Berkeley Manu- scripts, 4to, 1821, p. 204. The memory of this singular custom is kept alive in the ordinary name for a man-servant — a footman. In Charles Street, Berkeley Square, London, there is a particular memorial of it in the sign of a public-house, caUed The Bimning Footman, much used by the servants of the neighbouring gentry. Here is represented a tall, agile man in gay attire, and with a stick having a metal ball at top ; he is engaged in running. 100 Notes and Queries, 2nd ear., i. 121. Underneath is inscribed, 'I am the only Bunning Footman.' Of this sign a transcript is presented on the preceding page. JANUARY 13. new-year's day, o. s. St Kentigern (otherwise St Mungo), of Glasgow, 601 ; St Veronica of Milan, 1497. The 13th of January is held as St Hilary's day by the Church of England. On this day, accordingly, begins the Hilary Term at Cambridge, though on the 14th at Oxford ; concluding respectively on the Friday and Saturday next before Palm Sunday. ST VERONICA. St Veronica was originally a poor girl working in the fields near Milan. The pious instructions of her parents fell upon a heart naturally sus- ceptible in a high degree of religious impres- sions, and she soon became an aspirant for conventual life. Entering the nunnery of St Martha in Milan, she in time became its supe- rioress ; in which position her conduct was most exemplary. Some years after her death, which took place in 1497, Pope Leo X. allowed her to be honoured in her convent in the same manner as if she had been beatified in the usual form. Veronica appears as one whose mind had been wholly subdued to a religious life. She was evan- gelical perfection according to the ideas of her Church and her age. Even under extreme and lin- gering sickness, she persisted in taking her share of the duties of her convent, submitting to the greatest di'udgeries, and desiring to live solely on bread and water. ' Her silence was a sign of her recollection and continual prayer ; in which her gift of abundant and almost continual tears was most wonderfid. She nourished them by constant meditation on her own miseries, on the love of God, the joys of heaven, and the sacred passion of Christ. She always spoke of her own sinful life, as she called it, though it was most inno- cent, Avith the most profound compunction. She was favoured by God with many extraordinary visits and comforts.' — Butler. The name Veronica conducts the mind back to a very curious, and very ancient, though obscure legend of the Romish Church. It is stated that the Saviour, at his passion, had his face wiped with a handkerchief by a devout female attend- ant, and that the cloth became miraculously im- pressed with the image of his countenance. It became Veea Iconica, or a true portrait of those blessed features. The handkerchief, being sent to Abgarus, king of Odessa, passed through a series of adventures, but ultimately settled at Home, where it has been kept for many centuries in St Peter's Church, under the highest veneration. There seems even to be a votive mass, ' de Sancta Veronica seu vultu Domini,' the idea being thus personified, after a manner peculiar to the ancient Church. From the term Vera Iconica has come the name Veronica, the image being thus, as it were, personified in the character of a ST VERONICA. JANUAEY 13. ST VEEONICi. female saint, who, however, remains without bio- graphy and date. As a curiosity amongst ancient religious ideas, a picture of the revered handker- chief is here given. From a series of papers contributed to the Art Journal for 1861, by Mr Thomas Heaphy, artist, London, entitled Ati Examination of the Antiquity of the Likeness of our Blessed Lord, it appears that the legendary portrait of Christ can be traced Avith a respectable amount of evidence, much farther back than most persons ai'e aware of. In the early days of the Christian Church at Eome, before it received the protection of the empire, the worshippers, rendered by their hopes of resurrection anxious to avoid burning the bodies of their friends, yet living amongst a people who burnt the dead and considered any other mode of disposing of them as a nuisance, were driven to the necessity of making subterranean excava- tions for purposes of sepulture, generally in secluded grounds belonging to rich individuals. Hence the famous Catacombs of Home, dark pas- sages in the rock, sometimes three above each other, having tiers of recesses for bodies along their sides, and all wonderfully well preserved. In these recesses, not imfrequently, the remains of bodies exist ; in many, there are tablets telling who was the deceased ; in some, there arc recesses 101 TJRPATJY ST VERONICA. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST KENTIGEEN. containing laclirymatories, or tear-vials, and little glass vessels, the sacramental cups of the primi- tive church, on which may still be traced pictures of Christ and his principal disciples. A vast number, however, of these curious remains have been transferred to the Vatican, where they are guarded with the most jealous care. Mr Heaphy met with extraordinary difficulties in Ilia attempts to examine the Catacombs, and scarcely less in his endeavours to see the stores of reliques in the Vatican. He has nevertheless placed before us a very interesting series of the pictures found, generally wrought in gold, on the glass cups above adverted to. Excepting in one instance, where Christ is represented in the act of raising Lazarus from the dead (in which case the face is an ordinary one with a Brutus crop of hair), the portrait of Jesus is invariably repre- sented as that peculiar oval one, with parted hair, with which we are so familiar ; and the fact be- comes only the more remarkable from the con- trast it presents to other faces, as those of St Peter or St Paul, which occur in the same pictures, and all of which have their own characteristic forms and expressions. Now, TertuUian, who wrote about the year 160, speaks of these por- traits on sacramental vessels as a practice of the first Christians, as if it were, eveii in his time, a thing of the past. And thus the probability of their being found very soon after the time of Christ, and when the tradition of his personal appearance was still fresh, is, m Mr Heaphy's opinion, established. We are enabled here to give a specimen of these curious illustrations of early Christianity, being one on which Mr Heaphy makes the fol- lowing remarks : ' An instance of what may be termed the transition of the type, being ap- parently executed at a time when some informa- tion respecting the more obvious traits in the true likeness had reached Eome, and the artist felt no longer at liberty to adopt the mere conventional type of aKoman youth, but aimed at giving such distinctive features to the portrait as he was able from the partial information which had reached him. We see in this instance that our Saviour, 102 who is represented as giving the crown of life to St Peter and St Paul, is delineated with the hair divided in the middle (distinctly contrary to the fashion of that day) and a beard, being so far an approximation to the true type One thing to be specially noticed is, that the portraits of the two apostles were at that time already depicted under an easily recognised type of character, as will be seen by comparing this picture with two others which will appear hereafter, in all of which the short, curled, bald head and thick-set features of St Peter are at once discernible, and afford direct evidence of its being an exact portrait likeness, [while] the representation of St Paul is scarcely less characteristic' ST KENTIGERN. Out of the obscurity -which envelopes the his- tory of the northern part of our island in the fifth and sixth centuries, when aU of it that was not provincial Roman was occupied by Keltic tribes under various denominations, there loom before us three holy figures, engaged in planting Christianity. The first of these was Ninian, who built a church of stone at Whithorn, on the pro- montory of Wigton ; another was Serf, who some time after had a cell at Culross, on the north CHAELES JAMES POX. JAITUAEY 13. CHAELES JAMES FOX. shore of the Firth of Forth ; a third was Kenti- gern, pupil of the last, and more notable than either. He appears to have flourished through- out the sixth century, and to have died in 601. Through his mother, named Thenew, he was con- nected with the royal family of the Cumbrian Britons — a rude state stretching along the west side of the island between "Wales and Argyle. After being educated by Serf at Culross, he returned among his own people, and planted a small religious establishment on the banks of a little stream which falls into the Clyde at what is now the city of Glasgow. Upon a tree beside the clearing in the forest, he hung his bell to summon the savage neighbours to worship ; and the tree with the bell stiU figures in the arms of Glasgow. Thus was the commencement made of what in time became a seat of population in con- nexion with an episcopal see ; by and by, an in- dustrious town ; ultimately, what we now see, a magnificent city with half a million of inhabitants. Kentigern, though his amiable character pro- cured him the name of Mungo, or the Beloved, had great troubles from the then king of the Strathclyde Britons ; and at one time he had to seek a refuge in "Wales, where, however, he employed himself to some purpose, as he there founded, under the care of a follower, St Asaph, the religious establishment of that name, now the seat of an English bishopric. Resuming his residence at Glasgow, he spent many years in the most pious exercises — for one thing reciting the whole psalter once every day. As generally happened with those who gave themselves up entirely to sanctitude, he acquired the reputation of being able to effect miracles. Contemporary with him, though a good deal his junior, was Columba, who had founded the cele- brated monastery of I-colm-kill. It is recorded that Columba came to see St Eentigern at his little church beside the Clyde, and that they interchanged their respective pastoral staves, as a token of brotherly affection. For a time, these two places were the centres of Christian mis- sionary exertion in the country now called Scotland. St Kentigern, at length dying at an advanced age, was buried on the spot where, five centuries afterwards, arose the beautiful cathedral which stUl bears his name. Born. — Charles James Fox, statesman, 1748. Died. — George Fox, founder of the sect of Quakers, 1690; Dr James Macknight, 1800; Earl of Eldon (formerly Lord Chancellor of England), 1838. CHART,ES JAMES FOX. Of Charles James Fox, the character given by his friends is very attractive : 'He was,' says Sir James Mackintosh, ' gentle, modest, placable, kind, of simple manners, and so averse from parade and dogmatism, as to be not only unosten- tatious, but even somewhat inactive in conversa- tion. His superiority was never felt, but in the in- struction which he imparted, or in the attention which his generous preference usually directed to the more obscure members of the company. His conversation, when it was not repressed by modesty or indolence, was delightful. The pleasantry, perhaps, of no man of wit had so unlaboured an appearance. It seemed rather to escape from his mind than to be produced by it. His literature was various and elegant. In classical erudition, which, by the custom of England, is more peculiarly called learning, he was inferior to few professed scholars. Like aU CHARLES JAMES FOX. men of genius, he delighted to take refuge in poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation of busi- ness. His own verses Avere easy and pleasing, and might have claimed no low place among those which the French call vers de societe. He dis- liked political conversation, and never willingly took any part in it From these qualities of his private as well as from his public character, it probably arose that no English statesman ever preserved, during so long a period of adverse fortune, so many affectionate friends, and so many zealous adherents.' The shades of Fox's history are to be found in his extravagance, his gambling habits (which re- duced him to the degradation of having his debts paid by subscription), and his irregular domestic life ; but how shall the historian rebuke one whose friends declared that they found his faults made him only the more lovable ? Viewing the unreasonableness of many party movements and doings, simply virtuous people sometimes feel inclined to regard, part)/ as wholly opposed in spirit to truth and justice. Hear, however, the defence put forward for it by the great "V\^hig leader : ' The question,' says he, ' upon the solution of which, in my opinion, prin- cipally depends the utility of party, is, in what situations are men most or least likely to act corruptly — in a party, or insulated ? and of this I think there can be no doubt. There is no man so pure who is not more or less influenced, in a doubtful case, by the interests of his fortune or his ambition. If, therefore, a man has to decide upon every new question, this influence will have so many frequent opportunities of exerting itself that it wiU in most cases ultimately prevail ; whereas, if a man has once engaged in a party, the occasions for new decisions are more rare, and consequently these corrupt influences operate less. This reasoning is much strengthened when you consider that many men's minds are so framed that, in a question at all dubious, they are inca- pable of any decision ; some, from narrowness of understanding, not seeing the point of the ques- tion at aU; others, from refLnement, seeing so 103 DR MACK.NIGHT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. A SEEMON BY THE POPE. nuicli on both sides, that they ck") not know how to bahmce the account. Snch persons will, in nine cases out of ten. be iuilueneed by interest, even without their being conscious of their cor- ruption. In short, it appears to me that a party spirit is the only substitute that has been found, or can be found, for public virtue and compre- hensive understanding ; neither of which can be reasonably expected to be found in a very great number of people. Over and above all this, it appears to me to be a constant incitement to everything that is right : for, if a party spirit prevails, all power, aye, and all rank too, in the liberal sense of the word, is in a great measure elective. To be at the head of a party, or even high in it, you must have the confidence of the party ; and confidence is not to be procured by abilities alone. In an Epitaph upon Lord Eock- ingham, written I believe by Burke, it is said, " his virtues were Ms means ,-" and very truly ; and so, more or less, it must be with every party man. Whatever teaches men to depend upon one another, and to feel the necessity of con- ciliating the good opinion of those with whom they live, is surely of the highest advantage to the morals and happiness of mankind ; and what does this so much as party ? Many of these which I have mentioned are only collateral ad- vantages, as it were, belonging to this system; but the decisive argument upon this subject ap- pears to me to be this : Is there any other mode or plan in this country by which a rational man can hope to stem the power and influence of the Crown ? I am sure that neither experience nor any well-reasoned theory has ever shewn any other. Is there any other plan which is likely to make so great a number of persons resist the temptations of titles and emoluments ? And if these things are so, ought we to abandon a system from which so much good has been de- rived, because some men have acted incon- sistently, or because, from the circumstances of the moment, we are not likely to act with much eflfect?' , Mr Fox was the third son of Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, and of Lady Georgina Caroline Fox, eldest daughter of Charles, second Duke of Eichmond. As a child he was remarkable for the quickness of his parts, his engaging disposi- tion, and early intelligence. ' There's a clever little boy for you !' exclaims his father to Lady Caroline Fox, in repeating a remark made a lyroioos by his son Charles, when hardly more than two years and a half old. ' I dined at home to-day,' he says, in another letter to her, ' tete-a-tete with Charles, intending to do business, but he has found me pleasanter employment, and was very sorry to go away so soon.' He is, in another letter, described as 'very pert, and very argumentative, all life and spirits, motion, and good humour ; stage- mad, but it makes him read a good deal.' That he was excessively indulged is certain : his father had promised that he should be present when a garden wall was to be flung down, and having forgotten it, the wall was built up again— it was said, that he might fulfil his promise. DR MACKNIGHT. Dr James Macknight, born in 1721, one of the 104 ministers of Edinburgh, wrote a laborious work on the Apostolical Epistles, which was published in 1795, in four volumes 4to. He had worked at it for eleven hours a day for a series of years, and, though well advanced in life, maintained tolerable health of body and mind through these uncommon labours ; but no sooner was his mind relieved of its familiar task, than its powers, particularly in the department of memory, sen- sibly began to give way; and the brief remainder of his life was one of decline. Dibdin recommends the inviting quartos of Macknight, as containing 'learning without pedantry, and piety without enthusiasm.' A SERMON BY THE POPE. It is a circumstance not much known in Pro- testant countries, that the head of the Eonian Catholic Church does not ascend the pulpit. Whether it is deemed a lowering of dignity for one who is a sovereign prince as well as a high priest to preach a sermon like other priests, or whether he has not time — certain it is that priests cease to be preachers when they become popes. One single exception in three hundi-ed years tends to illustrate the rule. The present pope, Pius IX., has supplied that exception. It has been his lot to be, and to do, and to see many things that lie out of the usual path of pontiflTs, and this among the number. On the 2nd of June 1846, Pope Gregory XVI. died. Fifty - one cardinals assembled at the palace of the Quirinal at Eome, on Sunday the 14th, to elect one of their body as a successor to Gregory. The choice fell on Giovanni Maria Mastai Ferretti, Cardinal-Archbishop of Imola ; and he ascended the chair of St Peter as Pope Pius IX. He was a liberal man, who had won much popular esteem by his general kindness, especially to the poor and afflicted. While yet an archbishop, he occupied the pulpit one day in an unexpected manner ; the officiating priest was taken ill during his sermon, and the cardinal, who was present, at once took his place, his text, and his line of argument. It was equally an un- foreseen incident for him to preach as a pope. The matter is thus noticed in Count de Liancoiirt's Pius the Ninth: the First Year of his Fontiji- cate, under the date January 13th, 1847 : ' This circumstance has been noticed in the chronologi- cal tables of the year as an event which had not occurred before for three hundred years. But it is as well that it should be known that it was not a premeditated design on the part of his Holiness, but merely the result of accident. On the day in question, the Octave of the Epiphany, the celebrated preacher Padre Ventura, whose eloquence attracted crowds of eager listeners, had not arrived at the church (de Santa Andrea della Valle, at Eome) ; and the disappointed con- gregation, thinking indisposition was the cause of his absence, were on the point of retiring, when suddenly the bells rang, and announced the unexpected arrival of the Sovereign Pontiff. It is impossible to describe the feelings of the congregation, or the deep interest and excite- ment which were produced in their minds when they saw Pius IX. advance towards the pulpit, or the profound silence with wliich they listened CHANGE OF STYLE IN BRITAIN. JANUAEY 13. EECOVEKED KINGS. to liis dLscoursc' It was a simple, good, plain Bermon, easily intelligible to all. This was a day to be remembered, for Pius IX. was held almost in adoration at that time by the excitable Italians. He was a reforming pope, a liberal pope. He offended Austria and all the petty despots of Italy by his measures as an Italian prince, if not as the head of the Church. He liberated political prisoners ; gave the first sign of encouragement to the construction of railways in the papal dominions ; gave increased freedom to the press ; encouraged scientific meetings and researches ; announced his aj)- proval of popular education; surrounded him- self with liberal ministers ; and purified the papal household. It was hard work for liim to contend against the opposition of Lambruschini and other cardinals ; but he did so. Alas ! it was all too good to be permanent. The year 1848 arrived, and with it those convulsions which agitated almost every country in Europe. Pope Pius became thoroughly frightened. He either reaUy believed that nations are not fitted for so much liberty and liberalism as he had hitherto been willing to give them, or else the power brought to bear against him by emperors, kings, princes, grand - dukes, cardinals, and arch- bishops, was greater than he could withstand. He changed his manners and proceedings, and became like other popes. What followed all this, belongs to the history of Italy. THE CHANGE OF THE STYLE IN BRITAIN. The Act for the change of the style (24 Geo. II. cap. 23) provided that the legal year in England 1752 should commence, not on the 25th of March, but on the 1st of January, and that after the 3rd of September in that year, the next ensuing day should be held as the 14th, thus dropping out eleven days. The Act also included provi- sions regarding the days for fairs and markets, the periods of legal obligations, and the future arrangements of the calendar. A reformed plan of the calendar, with tables for the moveable feasts, &c. occupies many pages of the statute. The change of the style by Pope Gregory in the sixteentli century was well received by the people of the Catholic world. Miracles which took place periodically on certain days of the year, as for example the melting of the blood of St Gennaro at Naples on the 19th of September, observed the new style in the most orthodox manner, and the common people hence concluded that it was aU right. The Protestant populace of England, equally ignorant, but without any such quasi-religious principle to guide them, were, on the contrary, violently inflamed against the statesmen who had carried through the bill for the change of style ; generally believing that they had been defrauded of eleven days (as if eleven days of their destined lives) by the trans- action. Accordingly, it is told that for some time afterwards, a favourite opprobrious cry to unpopular statesmen, in the streets and on the hustings, was, ' Who stole the eleven days ? Give VTS back the eleven daj's ! ' Near Malwood Castle, in Hampshire, there was an oak tree which was believed to bud every Christmas, in honour of Him who was born on that day. The people of the neighbourhood said they would look to this venerable piece of tim- ber as a test of the propriety of the change of style. They would go to it on the new Christ- mas Day, and see if it budded : if it did not, there could be no doubt that the new style was a monstrous mistake. Accordingly, on Christmas Day, new style, there was a great flocking to this old oak, to see how the question was to be determined. On its being found that no bud- ding took jnace, the opponents of the new style triumphantly proclaimed that their view was approved by Divine wisdom — a point on which it is said they became still clearer, when, on the 5th January, being old Christmas Day, the oak was represented as having given forth a few shoots. These people were unaware that, even although there were historical grounds for be- lieving that Jesus was born on the 25th of De- cember, we had been carried away from the observance of the true day during the three centuries which elapsed between the event and the Council of Nice. The change of style has indeed proved a sad discomfiture to aU ideas connected with particu- lar days and seasons. It was said, for instance, that March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb ; but the end of the March of which this was said, is in reality the 12th of April. Still more absurd did it become to hold All Saints' Eve (October 31) as a time on which the powers of the mystic world were in particular vigour and activity, seeing that we had been observing it at a wrong time for centuries. We had been continually for many centuries gliding away from the right time, and yet had not perceived any difference — a pretty good proof that the assumedly sacred character of the night was all empty delusion. In the Acta Sanctortun a curious legend is re- lated in connexion with the life of Kentigern, as to the fijiding of a lost ring. A queen, having formed an improper attachment to a handsome soldier, put upon his finger a precious ring which her own lord had conferred upon her. The king, made aware of the fact, but dissembling his anger, took an opportunity, in hunting, while the soldier lay asleep beside the Clyde, to snatch off the ring, and throw it into the river. Then returning home along with the soldier, he de- manded of the queen the ring he had given her. She sent secretly to the soldier for the ring, which could not be restored. In great terror, she then dispatched a messenger to ask the assistance of the holy Kentigern. He, who knew of the affair before being informed of it, went to the river Clyde, and having caught a salmon, took from its stomach the missing ring, which he sent to the queen. She joyfully went with it to the king, who, thinking he had wronged her, swore he would be revenged upon her accusers ; but she, affecting a forgiving temper, besought him to pardon them as she had done. At the same time, she confessed her error to Kentigern, and 105 EECOVEEED KINGS. THE BOOE OF DAYS. RECOVEEED KINGS. solemnly vowed to be more careful of lier con- duct in future.* In the armorial bearings of tlie see oi Glasgow, and now of the city. St Kentigern's tree with its bell forms the principal object, while its stem is crossed by the salmon of the legend, bearing m its mouth the ring so miraciilously recovered. GLASGOW ARMS. Fabulous as this old church legend may ap- pear, it does not stand quite alone in the annals of the past. In Brand s History of Neiocastle, we find the particulars of a similar event which occurred at that city in or about the year 1559. A gentleman named Anderson — called in one account Sir Francis Anderson — fingering his ring as he was one day standing on the bridge, dropped the bauble into the Tyne, and of course gave it up as lost. After some time a servant of this gentleman bought a fish in Newcastle market, in the stomach of which the identical lost ring was found.f An occurrence remarkably similar to the above is related by Herodotus as happening to Poly- crates, after his great success in possessing him- self of the island of Samos. Amasis, king of Egypt, sent Polycrates a friendly letter, ex- pressing a fear for the continuance of his singular prosperity, for he had never known such an in- stance of felicity which did not come to calamity in the long run ; therefore advising Polycrates to throw away some favourite gem in such a way that he might never see it again, as a kind of charm against misfortune. Polycrates conse- quently took a valuable signet-ring — an emerald set in gold — and sailing away from the shore in a boat, threw this gem, in the sight of all on board, into the deep. ' This done, he returned home and gave vent to his sorrow. ' Now it happened, five or six days afterwards, that a fisherman caught a fish so large and beau- tiful that he thought it well deserved to be made a present of to the king. So he took it with him to the gate of the palace, and said that he wanted to see Polycrates. Then Polycrates allowed him to come in, and the fisherman gave him the fish with these words following — " Sir king, when I took this prize, I thought I would not carry it to market, though I am a poor man who live by *Acta Sanctorum, i. 820. f Brand's Newcastle, i. 45. 106 my trade. I said to myself, it is worthy of Poly- crates and his greatness ; and so I brought it here to give it you." The speech pleased the king, who thus spoke in reply : " Thou didst well, friend, and I am doubly indebted, both for the gift and for the speech. Come now, and sup with me." So the fisherman went home, esteeming it a high honom* that he had been asked to sup with the king. Meanwhile, the servants, on cut- ting open the fish, found the signet of their master in its beUy. No sooner did they see it than they seized upon it, and hastening to Poly- crates with great joy, restored it to him, and told him in what way it had been found. The king, who saw something providential in the matter, forthwith wrote a letter to Amasis, telling him all that had happened. . . . Amasis . . . perceived that it does not belong to man to save his fellow- man from the fate which is in store for him ; likewise he felt certain that Polycrates would end iU, as he prospered in everything, even finding what he had thrown away. So he sent a herald to Samos, and dissolved the contract of friend- ship. This he did, that when the great and heavy misfortune came, he might escape the grief which he would have felt Lf the suflferer had been his loved friend.'* In Scottish family history there are at least two stories of recovered rings, tending to support the possible verity of the Kentigern legend. The widow of Viscount Dundee — the famous Claver- house — was met and wooed at Colzium House, in Stirlingshire, by the Hon William Livingstone, who subsequently became Viscount Kilsyth. The gentleman gave the lady a pledge of atfection in the form of a ring, having for its posy, ' Youes ONLY AND EVEE.' She unluckily lost it in the garden, and it could not again be found ; which was regarded as an unlucky prognostic for the marriage that soon after took place. Nor was the prognostic falsified by the event, for not long after her second nuptials, while living in exile in Holland, she and her only child were killed by the fall of a house. Just a hundred years after, the lost ring was found in a clod in the garden ; and it has since been preserved at Colzium House. The other story is less romantic, yet curious, and of assured verity. A large silver signet ring was lost by Mr Murray of Pennyland, in Caithness, as he was walking one day on a shingly beach bounding his estate. Fully a century afterwards, it was found in the shingle, in fair condition, and restored to Mr Murray's remote heir, the present Sir Peter Murray Threipland of Fingask, baronet. Professor De Morgan, in Notes and Queries for December 21, 1861, relates an anecdote of a recovered ring nearly as wonderful as that connected with the life of Kentigern. He says he does not vouch for it ; but it was circulated and canvassed, nearly fifty years ago, in the country town close to which the scene is placed, with all degrees of belief and unbelief. 'A ser- vant boy was sent into the town with a valuable ring. He took it out of its box to admire it, and in passing over a plank bridge he let it fall on a muddy bank. Not being able to find it, he ran away, took to the sea, finally settled in a colony, made a large fortune, came back after many * Rawlinson's Translation of Herodotus, ii. 438. ST HILAEY, JANUAHY 14. DE JOHN B0T8E. years, and bought the estate on which he had been servant. One day, while walking over his land with a friend, he came to the plank bridge, and there told his friend the story. " I could swear," said he, pushing his stick into the mud, " to the very spot on which the ring dropped." When the stick came back the rmg was on the end of it.' Wild Oats.— We are more famihar with wild oats in a moral than in a botanical sense ; yet in the latter it is an article of no small cmiosity. For one thing, it has a seK-inherent power of moving from one place to another. Let a head of it be laid down in a moist ened state upon a table, and left there for the night, and next morning it will be found to have walked off. The locomotive power resides in the pecidiar hard aivn or spike, which sets the grain a-tumbhng over and over, sideways. A very large and coarse kind of wild oats, brought many years ago from Otaheite, was foimd to have the ambidatory character in imcommon perfection. When ordinary oats is allowed by neglect to degenerate, it acquires this amoug other character- istics of wild oats. JANUARY 14. Sts Isaias and Sabbas, 273. St Barbasceminus, 346. St Hilary, B. 368. St Felix. ST HILARY. St Hilarius lived in the fourth century, and the active and influential part of his life was passed under the Emperor Coustantius in the East, though he is included among the Fathers of the Western or Latin Church. He belonged to a family of distinction resident at Poitiers, in Gaid, and was brought up in paganism, but became a convert to Christianity, and in the year 354 was elected bishop of Poitiers. The first general council, held at Nice (Nicsea) in Bithynia, in 325, under the Emperor Constantine, had con- demned the doctrine of Arius, but had not sup- pressed it ; and Hilarius, about thirty years after- wards, when he had made himself acquainted with the arguments, became an opponent of the Arians, who were then numerous, and were patronised by the Emperor Constantius. The council of Aj-les, held in 353, had condemned Athanasius and others, who were opponents of the Arian doctrine ; and H/l arius, in the council of Beziers, held in 356, defended Athanasius, in opposition to Saturninus, bishop of Aries. He was in consequence deposed from his bishopric by the Arians, and banished by Constantius to Phrygia. There he remained about four years, occupied in composing his principal work. On the Trinity, in twelve books. Hilarius, besides his twelve books On the Trinity, wrote a work On Synods ad- dressed to the bishops of Gaul and Britain, in which he gives an account of the various creeds adopted in the Eastern church subsequent to the council of Nice ; and he addressed three books to the Emperor Constantius, of whose religious opinions he was always an energetic and fearless opponent. He continued, indeed, from the time ■when he became a bishop Hill the termination of his life in 368, to be zealously engaged in the Trinitarian controversy ; and the final triumph of the Nicene creed over the Arian may be attributed in a great degree to his energetic exertions. After the death of Constantius, in 361, he was restored to his bishopric, and returned to Poitiers, where he died. Bom. — Prince Adam Czartoryski, 1770. D/ed— Edward Lord Brnce, 1610; Dr John Boyse, translator of the Bible, 1643 ; Madame de Sevigne, 1696 ; Edmund Halley, astronomer, 1742 ; Dr George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, 1753. DR JOHN BOYSE. A minute and interesting memoir of this eminent scholar, in Peck's Desiderata Cmnosa, makes us aware of his profound learning, his diligence in study, and his many excellences of character. Ultimately he was a prebendary of Ely ; but when engaged in his task of translating the Bible, he was only rector of Boxworth. Boyse was one of a group of seven scholars at Cam- bridge to whom were committed the Apocryphal books ; and when, after four years, this task was finished, he was one of two of that group sent to London to superintend the general revision. With other four learned men, Boyse was engaged for nine months at Stationers' Hall, in the business of revising the entire translation ; and it is not un- worthy of notice, as creditable to the trade of literature, that, while the task of translation passed unrewarded of the nation, that of revision was remunerated by the Company of Stationers sending each scholar thirty shillings a tceelc. The idea of a guerdon for literary exertion was then a novelty— indeed a thing scarcely known in Eng- land. . Boyse was employed with Sir Henry Savde in that serious task of editing Chrysostom, which led to a celebrated witticism on the part of Sir Hemy. Lady SavUe, complaining one day to her husband of his being so abstracted from her society by his studies, expressed a wish that she were a book, as she might then receive some part of his attention. 'Then,' said Sir Henry, 'I should have you to be an almanack, that I might change you every year.' She threatened to burn Chrysostom, who seemed tobekUlingher husband; whereupon Dr Boyse quietly remarked, 'That were a great pity, madam.' 'Why, who was Chrysostom ?' inquired she. ' One of the sweetest preachers since the Apostles' times,' he calmly answered. 'Then,' said she, corrected by his manner and words, ' I would not burn him for the world.' Boyse lived to eighty-two, though generally engaged eight hours a day in study. He seems to have been wise before his time as to the manage- ment of his physical system under intellectual labour, and his practice may even yet be de- scribed with advantage. 'He made but two meals, dinner and supper;* betwixt which he never so much as drank, unless, upon trouble of flatulency, some small quantity of aqua-vitce and su^^ar. After meat he was careful, almost to curiosity, in picking and rubbing his teeth; * In the days of Elizabeth and the first James, few gentlemen took anything but a draught of ale by way of breakfast. _ ^^ 107 MADAME DE SBVIQNE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. GEEAT FEOSTS. estcominjj; that a special preservative of liealth ; by wliieli means ho earried to his tjrave almost a Hebrew alphabet of teeth [tweuty-two]. When that -was done, he used to sit or walk an hour or more, to digest his meat, before he would go to his study. . . . He would never study at all. in later years, between supper and bed ; which time, two hours at least, he would spend with his friends in discourse, hearing and telling harmless, delight- ful stories, whereof he was exceedingly full. . . . The posture of his body in studying was always standing, except when for ease he went upon his knees.' No modern physiologist could give a better set of rules than these for a studious life, excepting as far as absence of all reference to active exercise is concerned. MADAME DE SEYIGNE. This celebrated woman, who has the glory of being fully as conspicuous in the graces of style as any writer of her age, died, after a few days' ill- ness, at the town of Grignau. Her children were throughout life her chief object, and espe- cially her daughter, to her affection for whom we owe the greater part of that admirable collec- tion of Letters upon which the fame of Madame de Sevigne is raised. La Harpe describes them as ' the book of all hours, of the town, of the country, on travel. They are the conversations of a most agreeable woman, to which one need con- tribute nothing but one's own ; which is a great charm to an idle person.' Her Letters were not published till the eigh- teenth century, but they were written in the mid- day of the reign of Louis XIV. ' Their ease and freedom from aflectation,' says Hallam, ' are more striking by contrast with the two episto- lary styles which had been most admired in France — that of Balzac, which is laboriously tumid, and that of Voiture, which becomes in- sipid by dint of affectation. Everyone perceives that in the Letters of a Mother to her Daughter, the public, in a strict sense, is not thought of; and yet the habit of speaking and writing what men of wit and taste would desire to hear and read, gives a certain mannerism, I will not say air of effort, even to the letters of Madame de Sevigne. The abandonment of the heart to its casual impulses is not so genuine as in some that have since been published. It is at least clear that it is possible to become affected in copying her unaffected style ; and some of Walpole's letters bear witness to this. Her wit and talent of painting by single touches are very eminent ; scarcely any collection of letters, which contain so little that can interest a distant age, are read with such pleasure. If they have any general fault, it is a little monotony and excess of affection towards her daughter, which is reported to have wearied its object, and, in contrast with this, a little want of sensibility towards all beyond her immediate friends, and a readiness to find some- thing ludicrous in the dangers and sufferings of others.' Thus, in one letter she mentions that a lady of her acquaintance, having been bitten by a mad dog, had gone to be dipped in the sea, and amuses herself by taking off the provincial accent with which she will express herself on the first plunge. She makes a jest of La Voisin's execution, and 108 thought that person was as little entitled to sym- pathy as any one ; yet, when a woman is burned alive, it is not usual for another woman to turn it into drollery. — Literature of Europe. Madame do Sevigne's taste has been arraigned for slighting Bacine ; and she has been cliarged with the unfortunate prediction : "LI passera comnie le cafe." But it has been denied that these words can be found, though few like to give up so diverting a miscalculation of futurity. BISHOP BERKELEY AND TARWATER. Berkeley was a poet, as well as a mathema- tician and philosopher ; and his mind was not only well stored with professional and philoso- phical learning, but with information upon trade, agriculture, and the common arts of life. Having received benefit from the use of tar-water, when ill of the colic, he published a work on the Virtues of Tar-water, on which he said he had bestowed more pains than on any other of his productions. His last work, published but a few months before his death, was Further Thoughts on Tar- water ; and it shews his enthusiastic character, that, when accused of fancying he had discovered a panacea in tar-water, he replied, that ' to speak out, he freely owns he suspects tar-water is a panacea.' Walpole has taken the trouble to preserve, from the newspapers of the day, the following epigram on Berkeley's tar-water : ' Who dare deride what pious Cloyne has done ? The Church shall rise and vindicate her son ; She tells us all her bishops shepherds are, And shepherds heal their rotten sheep with tar. ' In a letter written by Mr John Whishaw, solicitor. May 25, 1744, we find this account of Berkeley's panacea : ' The Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland, has published a book, of two shillings price, vpon the excellencies of tar-water, which is to keep ye bloud in due order, and a great remedy in many cases. His way of making it is to put, I think, a gallon of water to a quart of tar, and after stirring it together, to let it stand forty-eight hours, and then pour off the clear and drink a glass of about half a pint in ye morn, and as much at five in ye afternoon. So it's become common to call for a glass of tar-water in a coffee-house, as a dish of tea or coffee.' GREAT FROSTS. On this day, in 1205, ' began a frost which con- tinued till the two and twentieth day of March, so that the ground could not be tilled ; whereof it came to pass that, in summer following, a quarter of wheat was sold for a mark of silver in many places of England, which for the more part in the days of King Henry the Second was sold for twelve pence ; a quarter of beans or peas for Iialf a mark ; a quarter of oats for forty pence, that were wont to be sold for fourpence. Also the money was so sore clipped that there was no remedy but to have it renewed.' — Stoive's Chro- nicle. It has become customary in England to look to St Hilary's Day as the coldest in the year; perhaps from its being a noted day about the GEEAT FROSTS. JANUARY 14. GEEAT FB08T8. middle of the notedly coldest montli. It is, how- ever, just possible that the commencement of the exti-aordinary and fatal frost of 1205, on this day, may have had something to do with the notion ; and it may be remarked, that in 1820 the 14th of January n^as the coldest day of the year, one gentleman's thermometer falling to four degrees Fahrenheit below zero. On a review of the greatest frosts in the English chronicles, it can only be observed that they have for the most part occurred throughout January, and only, in general, diverge a little into December on the one hand, and February on the other. Yet one of the most remarkable of modern frosts began quite at the end of January. it was at that time in 1814 that London last saw the Thames begin to be so firmly frozen as to support a multitude of human beings on its surface. For a month following the 27th of the previous December, there had been a strong frost in Eng- land. A thaw took place on the 26th January, and the ice of the Thames came down in a huge 'pack,' which was suddenly arrested between the bridges by the renewal of the frost. On the 31st the ice pack was so iirmly frozen in one mass, that people began to pass over it, and next day the footing appeared so safe, that thousands of persons ventured to cross. Opposite to Queen- hithe, where the mass appeared most solid, up- wards of thirty booths were erected, for the sale of liquors and viands, and for the playing of skittles. A sheep was set to a fire in a tent upon the ice, and sold in shilling slices, imder the a])-pe\\a.tion o{ Lccjyhtnd mutto?!. Musicians came, and dances were effected on the rough and slip- pery surface. What with the gay appearance of the booths, and the quantity of favourite popular amusements going on, the scene was singularly cheerful and exciting. On the ensuing day, faith in the ice having increased, there were vast multi- tudes upon it between the London and Blackfriars' Bridges ; the tents for the sale of refreshments, and for games of hazard, had largely multiplied ; swings and merry-go-rounds were added to skittles ; in short, there were all the appearances of a Greenwich or Bartholomew Fair exhibited on this frail surface, and Frost Fair was a term in everybody's mouth. Amongst those who strove to make a trade of the occasion, none were more active than the humbler class of printers. Their power of producing an article capable of preservation, as a memorial of the affair, brought them in great numbers to the scene. Their principal business consisted, accordingly, in the throwing off of little broadsides referring to Frost Fair, and stating the singular circum- stances under which they were produced, in rather poor verses — such as the following : ' Amidst the arts which ou the Thames appear, To tell the wonders of this icy year, Printing claims prior place, which at one view Erects a mouument of that and you.' Another peculiarly active corps was the ancient fraternity of Avatermen, who, deserting their proper trade, contrived to render themselves ser- FAIR ON THE THA3IES, 171G. viceable by making convenient accesses from the landings, for which they charged a moderate toll. It was reported that some of these men realized as much as ten pounds a day by this kind of business. All who remember the scene describe it as having been singular and picturesque. It was not merely a white icy plain, covered with flag- bearing booths and lively crowds. The peculiar circumstances under which this part of the river had finally been frozen, caused it to appear as a variegated ice country — hill and dale, and devious walk, all mixed together, with human beings thronging over every bit of accessible surface. After Frost Fair had lasted with increasing activity for four days, a killing thaw came with the Saturday, and most of the traders who pos- sessed any prudence struck their flags and de- parted. Many, reluctant to go while any cus- tomers remained, held on past the right time, 109 GBEAT FROSTS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. GEEAT FEOSTS. and towards evening there was a strange medley of tents, and merry-go-rounds, and printing presses seen lloating about on detached masses of ICC, beyond recoveiy of their dismayed owners, who had themselves barely escaped with life. A large refreshment booth, belonging to one Lawrence, a publican of Queenhithe, which had been placed opposite Brook's Wharf, was floated oil" by the rising tide, at an early hour on Sunday morning, with nine men in the interior, and was borne with violence back towards Blackfriars' Bridge, catching fire as it went. Before the con- flagration had gone far, the whole mass was dashed to pieces on one of the piers of the bridge, and the men with difficulty got to land. A vast number of persons suffered immersion both on this and previous days, and three men were drowned. By Monday nothing was to be seen where Frost Fair had been, but a number of ice-boards swinging lazily backwards and for- wards under the impulse of the tide. There has been no recurrence of Frost Fair on the Thames from 1814 down to the present year (1861) ; but it is a phenomenon which, as a rule, appears to recur several times each centuiy. The next previous occasion was in the winter of 1788-9; the next again in January 1740, when people dwelt in tents on the Thames for weeks. In 1715-16, the river was thickly frozen for seve- ral miles, and became the scene of a popular fete resembling that just described, with the additional feature of an ox roasted whole for the regalement of the people. The next previous instance was in January 1684. There was then a constant frost of seven weeks, producing ice eighteen inches thick. A contemporary, John Evelyn, who was an eye-witness of the scene, thus describes it : ' The frost continuing, more and more severe, the Thames, before London, was still planted with booths in formal streets, all sorts of trades and shops, furnished and full of commodities, even to a printing press, where the people and ladies took a fancy to have their names printed, and the day and the year set down when pro- duced on the Thames : this humour took so universally, that it was estimated the printer gained five pounds a day, for printing a line only, at sixpence a name, besides what he got by ballads, &c. Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple and from other stairs, to and fro, as in the streets ; sheds, sliding with skates, or hull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet-shows and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd places ; so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph or carnival on the water : while it was a severe judgment on the land, the trees not only splitting as if lightning-struck, but men and cattle perishing in divers places, and the very seas so locked up with ice, that no vessels could stir out or come in ; the fowls, fish, and birds, and all our exotic plants and greens, universally perishing. Many parks of deer were destroyed ; and all sorts of fiiel so dear, that there were great contributions to keep the poor alive. Nor was this severe weather much less intense in most parts of Europe, even as far as Spain iu the most southern tracts. ' London, by reason of the excessive coldness 110 of the air hindering the ascent of the smoke, was so filled with the fuliginous stream of the sea-coal, that hardly could any one see across the streets ; and this filling of the lungs with the gross particles exceedingly obstructed the breath, so as one could scarcely breathe. There was no water to be had from the pipes or engines ; nor could the brewers and divers other tradesmen work ; and every moment was full of disastrous accidents.' King Charles II. visited the diversions on the Thames, with other personages of the royal family ; and the names of the party were printed upon a quarto piece of Dutch paper, within a type border, as follows : Chaeles, King. James, Duke. Katheeine, Queek. Maey, Duchess. Anne, Peincess. George, Peince. Hans in Kildee. London: Printed by G-. Croome, on the Ice on the River of Thames, Jan. 31, 1684. Hollinshed describes a severe frost as occur- ring at the close of December 1564 : ' On New Year's even,' he says, ' people went over and along the Thames on the ice from London Bridge to Westminster. Some played at the foot-ball as boldly there as if it had been on dry land. Divers of the court, being daUy at West- minster, shot daily at pricks set upon the Thames ; and the people, both men and women, went daily on the Thames in greater number than in any street of the city of London. On the 3d day of January it began to thaw, and on the 5th day was no ice to be seen between London Bridge and Lambeth ; which sudden thaw caused great floods and high waters, that bare down bridges and houses, and drowned many people, especially in Yorkshire.' A protracted frost necessarily deranges the lower class of employments in such a city as London, and throws many poor persons into des- titution. Just as sure as this is the fact, so sure is it that a vast horde of the class who system- atically avoid regular work, preferring to live by their wits, simulate the characteristic appearances of distressed labourers, and try to excite the charity of the better class of citizens. Investing themselves in aprons, clutching an old spade, and hoisting as their signal of distress a turnip on the top of a pole or rake, they will wend their way through the west-end streets, proclaiming themselves in sepulchral tones &?. Frozen-out Gar- deners, or simply calling, ' HaU frozen hout !' or chanting ' We've got no work to do ! ' The faces of the corps are duly dolorous ; but one can nevertheless observe a sharp eye kept on the doors and windows they are passing, in order that if possible they may arrest some female gaze on which to practise their spell of pity. It is alleged on good grounds that the generality of FEOST PICTURES. JANUARY 14. FEOST PICTXJKES. these victims of the frost are impostors, and that their daily gatherings will often amount to double a skilled workman's wages. Nor do they usually discontinue the trade till long after the return of milder airs has liquidated even real claims upon the public sympathy. FROZEN-OUT GAEDENEES. FROST PICTURES. When, like a sullen exile driven forth. Southward, December drags his icy chain, He graves fair pictures of his native North On the crisp window-pane. So some pale captive blurs, with lips tmshorn, The latticed glass, and shapes nxde outhnes there, "With listless finger and a look forlorn, Cheating his didl despair. The fairy fragments of some Arctic scene I see to-night ; blank wastes of polar snow. Ice-laden bonghs, and feathery pines that lean Over ravines below. Black frozen lakes, and icy peaks blown bare, Break the white surface of the crusted pane. And spear-like leaves, long ferns, and blossoms fair Linked in silvery chain. Draw me, I pray thee, by this slender thread ; Fancy, thou sorceress, bending vision-wrought O'er that dim well perpetually fed By the clear springs of thought ! Northward I turn, and tread those dreary strands, — Lakes where the wild fowl breed, the swan abides ; Shores where the white fox, bvirrowing in the sands, Harks to the droning tides. And seas, where, drifting on a raft of ice, The she-bear rears her young ; and cliffs so high, The dark-winged birds that emulate their rise Melt through the pale blue sky. There, all night long, with far diverging rays. And stalking shades, the red Auroras glow ; From the keen heaven, meek suns with paUid blaze Light up the Arctic snow. Guide me, I pray, along those waves remote, That deep unstartled from its primal rest ; Some errant sail, the fisher's lone hght boat Borne waif-hke on its breast ! Lead me, I pray, where never shallop's keel Brake the dull ripples throbbing to their caves ; AVhere the mailed glacier with his armed heel Spurs the resisting waves ! Paint me, I pray, the phantom hosts that hold Celestial tourneys when the midnight calls ; On airy steeds, with lances bright and bold, Storming her ancient halls. Yet, while I look, the magic picture fades ; Melts the bright tracery from the frosted pane ; Trees, vales, and cliffs, in sparklmg snows arrayed, Dissolve in silvery rain . Without, the day's pale glories sink and swell Over the black rise of yon wooded height ; The moon's thin crescent, hke a stranded shell. Left on the shores of night. Hark how the north wind, with a hasty hand, Rattling my casement, frames his mystic rhyme. House thee, rude minstrel, chanting through the land. Fames of the olden times.* * By Edith May, in Hale's Selections from Female Writers. 1853. INFEKXAL MACHINES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE FEAST OF THE ASS. IXFERXAL MACHINES. The 11 til of January 1858 Tras made memor- alile in France by an attempt at regicide, most diabolical in its character, and j^et the project of a man who appears to have been by no means devoid of virtue and even benevolence. It Avas, however, the tliird time that what the French call an Infernal Machine was used in the streets of Paris, for regicidal purposes, within the present century. The first was a Bonrbonist contrivance directed against the life of the First Consul Bonaparte. ' Tills machine,' says Sir Walter Scott, in his Life of Napoleon, ' consisted of a barrel of gunpowder, placed on a cart, to which it was stronglv secured, and charged with grape- shot, so disposed around the barrel as to be dis- persed in every direction by the explosion. The fire was to be communicated by a slow match. It was the purpose of the conspirators, iinde- terred by the indiscriminate slaughter which such a discharge must occasion, to place the machine in the street, through which the First Consul must go to the opera ; having contrived that it should explode exactly as his carriage should pass the spot.' Never, during all his eventful life, had Napoleon a narrower escape than on this occasion, on the 14th of December 1800. St Eegent applied the match, and an awful explo- sion took place. Several houses were damaged, twenty persons were killed on the spot, and fifty- three wounded, including St Hegent himself. Napoleon's carriage, however, had just got be- yond the reach of harm. This atrocity led to the execution of St Eegent, Carbon, and other conspirators. Fieschi's attempt at regicide in 1835 was more elaborate and scientific ; there was something of the artillery officer in his mode of proceeding, although he was in truth nothing but a scamp. Fieschi hired a front room of a house in Paris, in a street through which royal corteges were some- times in the habit of passing ; he proceeded to construct a weapon to be fired off through the open window, on some occasion when the king was expected to pass that way. He made a strong- frame, supported by four legs. He obtained twenty-five musket barrels, which, he ranged with their butt ends raised a little higher than the muz- zles, in order that he might fire doicnwards, from a first floor window into the street. The barrels were not ranged quite parallel, but were spread out slightly like a fan ; the muzzles were also not all at the same height ; so that by this combined plan he obtained a sweep of fire, both in height and breadth, more extensive than he would otherwise have obtained. Every year during Louis Philippe's reign there were cer- tain days of rejoicing in July, in commemora- tion of the circumstances which placed him on the throne. On the 28th, the second day of the festival in 1835, a royal cortege was proceeding along this particular street, the Boulevard du Temple. Fieschi adjusted his machine, heavily loaded with ball (four to each barrel), and con- nected the touch-holes of all his twenty-five barrels with a train of gunpowder. He had a blind at his window, to screen his operations from view. Just as the cortege arrived, he raised his blind and fired, when a terrific scene was presented. Marshal Mortier, General de Verigny, the aide-de-camp of Marshal Maison, a colonel, several grenadiers of the Guard, and several by- standers, were killed, while the wounded raised the number of sufferers to nearly forty. In this, as in many similar instances, the person aimed at escaped. One ball grazed the king's arm, and another lodged in his horse's neck : but he and his sons were in other respects unhurt. Fieschi was executed ; and his name obtained for some years that kind of notoriety w'hich Madame Tussaud could give it. We now come to the attempt of Orsini and his companions. A Birmingham manufacturer was commissioned to make six missiles according to a particular model. The missile was of oval shape, and had twenty-five nipples near one end, with percussion caps to fit them. The greatest thick- ness and weight of metal were at the nipple end, to ensure that it should come foremost to the ground. The inside was to be filled with deto- nating composition, such as fulminate of mer- cury ; a concussion would explode the caps on the nipples, and communicate the explosion to the fulminate, which, would burst the iron shell into innumerable fragments. A Frenchman residing in London bought alcohol, mercury, and nitric acid ; made a detonating compound from these materials, and filled the shells with it. Then ensued a very complicated series of manceuvres to get the con- spirators and the shells to Paris, without exciting the suspicion of the authorities. On the evening of the 14th of January 1858, the Emperor and Empress were to go to the opera ; and Orsini and bis confederates prepared for the occasion. At night, while the imperial carriage was passing, three explosions were heard. Several soldiers were wounded ; the Emperor's hat was per- forated ; General Roquet was slightly wounded in the neck ; two footmen were wounded while standing behind the Emperor's carriage ; one horse was killed ; the carriage was severely shattered ; and the explosion extinguished most of the gas-lights near at hand. The Emperor, cool in the midst of danger, proceeded to the opera as if nothing had happened. When the police had sought out the cause of this atrocity, it was ascertained that Orsini, Pierri, Eudio, and Gomez were all on the spot ; three of the shell- grenades had been thrown by hand, and two more were found on Orsini and Pierri. The fragments of the three shells had inflicted the frightful number of more than five hundred wounds — Orsini himself had been struck by one of the pieces. Eudio and Gomez were con- demned to the galleys ; Orsini and Pierri were executed. Most readers will remember the ex- citing political events that followed this affair in England and France, nearly plunging th.e two countries into war. Formerly, the Feast of the Ass was celebrated on this day, in commemoration of the ' Flight into Egypt.' Theatrical representions of Scrip- ture history were originally intended to impress THE FEAST OF THE ASS. JANUASY 14. MALLAED DAT. religious truths upon tlie minds of an illiterate people, at a period when books were not. and few could read. But the advantages resulting from this mode of instruction were counterbalanced by the numerous ridiculous ceremonies which they originated. Of these probably none ex- ceeded in grossness of absurdity the Festival of the Ass, as annually performed on the 14th of January. The escape of the Holy Family into Egypt was represented by a beautiful girl hold- ing a child at her breast, and seated on an ass, splendidly decorated with trappings of gold-em- broidered cloth. After having been led in solemn procession through the streets of the city in which the celebration was held, the ass, with its bur- den, was taken into the principal church, and placed near the high altar, while the various re- ligious services were performed. In place, how- ever, of the usual responses, the people on this occasion imitated the braying of an ass ; and, at the conclusion of the service, the priest, instead of the usual benediction, brayed three times, and was answered by a general hee-hawing from the voices of the whole congregation. A hymn, as ridi- culous as the ceremony, was sungby a double choir, the people joining in the chorus, and imitating the braying of an ass. Ducange has preserved this burlesque composition, a curious medley of French and mediaeval Latin, which may be translated thus : ' From the coimtry of the East, Came this strong and handsome beast : This able ass, beyond compare, Heavy loads and packs to bear. Now, seignior ass, a nohle bray, Thy beauteous mouth at large display; Abundant food our hay-lofts yield, And oats abundant load the field. Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! ' True it is, his pace is slow, Till he feels the quickening blow ; Till he feel the urging goad. On his hinder part bestowed. Now, seignior ass, &c. ' He was born on Shechem's hill ; In Reuben's vales he fed his fill; He drank of Jordan's sacred stream. And gambolled in Bethlehem. Now, seignior ass, &c. ' See that broad majestic ear ! Born he is the yoke to wear : All his fellows he surpasses ! He 's the very lord of asses ! Now, seignior ass, &c. ' In leaping he excels the fawn. The deer, the colts upon the lawn ; Less swift the dromedaries ran, Boasted of in Midian. Now, seignior ass, &c. * Gold from Araby the blest, Seba myiTh, of myrrh the best, To the cliurch this ass did bring; We his sturdy laboiu-s sing. Now, seignior ass, &c. ' While he draws the loaded wain, Or many a pack, he don't complain. With his jaws, a noble pair, He doth craunch his homely fare. Now, seignior ass, &c. 8 ' The bearded barley and its stem. And thistles, yield his fill of them : He assists to separate, When it 's thi-eshed, the chafif from wheat. Now, seignior ass, &c. ' With yom- beUy fidl of gi'ain. Bray, most honoured ass. Amen ! Bray out loudly, bray again, Never mind the old Amen ; Without ceasing, bray again. Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! ' The ' Festival of the Ass,' and other religious burlesques of a similar description, derive their origin from Constantinople ; being instituted by the Patriarch Theophylact, with the design of weaning the people's minds from pagan cere- monies, particiilarly the Bacchanalian and calen- dary observances, by the substitution of Chris- tian spectacles, partaking of a similar spirit of licentiousness, — a principle of accommodation to the manners and prejudices of an ignorant people, which led to a still further adoption of rites, more or less imitated from the pagans. Accord- ing to the pagan mythology, an ass, by its braying, saved Vesta from brutal violence, and, in consequence, ' the coronation of the ass ' formed a part of the ceremonial feast of the chaste goddess. An elaborate sculpture, representing a kneel- ing ass, in the church of St Anthony at Padua, is said to commemorate a miracle that once took place in that city. It appears that one morning, as St Anthony was carrying the sacrament to a dying person, some profane Jews refused • to kneel as the sacred vessels were borne past them. But they were soon rebuked and put to contrition and shame, by seeing a pious ass kneel devoutly in honour of the host. The Jews, con- verted by this miracle, caused the sculpture to be erected in the church. It takes but little to make a miracle. The following anecdote, told by the Rev John Wesley, in his Journal, would, in other hands, have made a very good one. ' An odd circumstance,' says Mr Wesley, ' hap- pened at Eotherham during the morning preach- ing. It was well only serious persons were present. An ass walked gravely in at the gate, came up to the door of the house, lifted up his head, and stood stock still, in a posture of deep attention. Might not the dumb beast reprove many, who have far less decency, and not much more understanding ? ' A somewhat similar asinine sensibility was differently displayed in the presence of King Henry IV. of France — the ass, on this occasion, not exhibiting itself as a dumb animal. When passing through a small town, just as the King was getting tired of a long stupid speech de- livered by the mayor, an ass brayed out loudly ; and Henry, with the greatest gravity and polite- ness of tone, said : ' Pray, gentlemen, speak one at a time, if you please.' Iltltlkrh gag. The I'lth of January is celebrated in All Souls College, Oxford, by a great merrymaking, 113 MAtlAHD DAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MISEEEIMUS. in commemoration of the finding of an overgrown mallard in a drain, wlien they were digging a fonndation for the college buildings, anno 1437. The following extract from a contemporary chronicle gives' an account of the incident: •Whouas Henrye Chichele, the late renowned archbisiiope of Cautorberye. had minded to founden a collidge in Oxenforde, for the hele of his soule and the soules of all those whoperyshed in the warres of Fi'aunce, fighteing valiautlye under our most gracious Henrye the fifthe, moche Avas he distraughten concerning the pkce he myghte choose for thilke purpose. Him thinkyth some whylest how he myghte place it withouten the eastern porte of the citie, both for the pleasauntnesse of the meadowes and the clere sti'eamys therebye runninge. Agen him thinkyth odir whylest howe he mote builden it on the northe side for the heleful ayre there coming from the fieldes. Nowe while he doubteth thereon he dremt, and behold there appereth unto him one of righte godelye personage, say- inge and adviseing as howe he myghte placen his collidge in the highe strete of the citie, nere unto the chirche of our blessed ladie the Virgine, and in witnesse that it was sowthe, and no vain and deceitful phantasie, wolled him to laye the first stane of the foundation at the corner which tui-neth towards the Cattys Strete, where in delvinge he myghte of a suretye finde a schwop- pinge mallarde imprisoned in the sinke or sewere, wele yfattened and almost ybosten. Sure token of the thrivaunce of his future college. ' Moche doubteth he Avhen he awoke on the natiu'e of this vision, whethyr he mote give hede thereto or not. Then advisyth he there with monie docters and learnyd clerkys, who all seyde howe he oughte to maken trial upon it. Then comyth he to Oxenforde, and on a daye fixed, after masse seyde, proceedeth he in solemnee wyse, with spades and pickaxes for the nonce {)rovided, to the place afore spoken of. But ong they had not digged ere they herde, as it myghte seme, within the wam of the erthe, hor- rid strugglinges and flutteringes, and anon violent quaakinges of the distressyd mallarde. Then Chichele lyfteth up his hondes and seyth Bene- dicite, &c. &c. Wowe when they broughte him forth, behold the size of his bodie was as that of a bustarde or an ostridge. And moch wonder was thereat ; for the lycke had not been scene in this londe, ne in onie odir.' "We obtain no particulars of the merrymaking beyond a quaint song said to have been long sung on the occasion : ' THE MERRY OLD SONG OF THE ALL SOTJLS' MALLARD. ' Griffin, bustard, tm-key, capon, Let other hungry mortals gape on ; Afld on the bones their stomach fall hard, But let All Souls' men have their mallard. Oh ! by the blood of King Edward,* Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, It was a woppmg, woppmg ilallaed, ' The Romans once admired a gander ilore than they did their chief commander ; * The allusion to King Edward is surely an anachron- ism, as King Henry VI. was reigning at the time of the foundation of this college. 114 Because he saved, if some don't fool us, The i)lace that 's called th' head of Tolus. Oh ! by the blood, &c. ' The poets feign Jove tvu'ned a swan, But lot them prove it if they can ; As for our proof, 'tis not at all hard. For it was a wopping, wo^tping mallard. Oh ! by the blood, &c. ' Therefore let lis sing and dance a galliard, To the remembrance of the mallard : And as the mallard dives in jjool. Let VIS dabble, dive, and duck in bowl. Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, It was a wopping, woj)puig mallard.' MISERRIMUS. In the north aisle of the cloister of Worcester Cathedral is a sepulchral slab, which bears only the word Miseeeimus, expressing that a most miserable but unknown man reposes below. The most heedless visitor is arrested by this sad voice speaking, as it were, from the ground ; and it is no wonder that the imaginations of poets and romancists have been awakened by it : ' " Miserrimus ! " and neither name nor date. Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone ; Nought but that word assigned to the unknown, That solitary word — to separate From aU, and cast a cloud around the fate Of him who bes beneath. Most wi-etched one ! TFAo chose his epitaph ? — -Himself alone Coidd thus have dared the grave to agitate, And claim among the dead this awful crown ; Nor doubt that he marked also for his own. Close to these cloistral steps, a burial-place, That every foot might fall with heavier tread, Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass Softly ! — To save the contrite Jesus bled ! ' There has of course been much speculation regarding the identity of Miserrimus : even a novel has been written upon the idea, containing striking events and situations, and replete with pathos. It is alleged, however, that the actual person was no hero of strikingly unhappy story, l3ut only a ' Eev Thomas Morris, who, at the Revolution refusing to acknowledge the king's supremacy [more probably refusing to take the oaths to the new monarch], was deprived of his Ijreferment, and depended for the remainder of his life on the benevolence of different Jacobites.' At his death, viewing merely, we suppose, the extreme indigence to which he was reduced, and the humiliating way in which he got his living, he ordered that the only inscription on his tonib should be — Miseeeimus ! * Such freaks are not unexampled, and we can- not be always sure that there is a real corres- pondence between the inscription and the fact. For instance, a Mr Francis Cherry of Shottes- brooke, who died September 23, 1713, had his grave inscribed with no other words than Hic JACET peccatoetjm maximus (Here lies the Chief of Sinners), the truth being, if we are to be- lieve his friend Hearne, that he was an upright and amiable man, of the most unexceptionable religious practice — in Hearne's own words, ' one * Britton's Cathedral Antiquities, quoting Lees's Wor- cestershire Miscellany. JAJSrUAEY 15. DE PABB. of tlie most learned, modest, liumble, and virtuous persons that I ever liad the honour to be ac- quainted with.'* The writer can speak on good authority of a similar epitaph which a dying person of un- happy memory desired to be put upon his coffin. The person referred to was an Irish ecclesiastic who many years ago was obliged, in consequence of a dismal lapse, to become as one lost to the world. Fully twenty-five years after his wretched fall, an old and broken down man, living in an obscure lodging at ISTewington, a suburb of Edin- burgh, sent for one of the ScottishEpiscopal clergy, for the benefit of his ministrations as to a dying person. Mr F saw much in this aged man to interest him ; he seemed borne down with sor- row and penitence. It was tolerably evident that he shunned society, and lived under a feigned name and character. Mr F became convinced that he had been a criminal, but was not able to penetrate the mystery. The miserable man at length had to give some directions about his funeral — an evidently approaching event ; and he desired that the only inscription on his coffin should be ' a conteite sinner.' He was in due time deposited without any further memorial in Warriston Cemetery, near Edinburgh. JANUARY 15. St Paul, the First Hermit, 342. St Isidore, priest and hermit, c. 390. St Isidore, priest and hospitaller of Alex- andria, 403. St John Calybite, recluse, 450. St Maurus, abbot, 584. St Main, abbot. St Ita or Mida, virgin abbess, 569. St Bonitus, bishop of Auvergne, 710. Born. — Dr Samuel Parr, 1747, Harrow; Dr John Aikin, 1747, Knibsiuortk; Talma, Fi-ench tragedian, 1763, Paris; Thomas Crofton Croker, 1798. Z)je(f.— Father Paul Sarpi, 1623 ; Sir Philip Warwick, 1683. DR PARR, as a literary celebrity, occupied no narrow space in the eyes of our fathers. In our own age, he Las shrunk down into liis actual character of only a literary eccentricity. It seems almost incredible that, after his death in 1825, there should have been a republication of his Works — in eight volumes octavo. Successively an assistant at Harrow, and the proprietor of an academy at Stanmore, he was at the basis a schoolmaster, although he spent the better part of his life as perpetual curate of Hatton, and even attained the dignity of a prebendal stall in St. Paul's. It is related of Parr, that, soon after setting Tip at Stanmore, he found himself in need of a wife. By some kind friends, a person thought to be a suitable partner was selected for him ; but the union did not prove a happy one. It was remarked that he had wanted a housekeeper, and that the lady had wanted a house. She was of a good family in Yorkshire, an only child, who had been brought up by two maiden aunts, ' in rigidity and frigidity,' and she described her * Reliquias Hearnianse, i. 294. husband as having been 'born in a whirlwind, and bred a tyrant.' She was a clever woman and a voluble talker, and took a pleasure in ex- posing his foibles and peculiarities before com- pany. At Stanmore Dr Parr assumed the full- bottomed wig, which afterwards became a dis- tinguishing part of his full dress. The Eev Sydney Smith has given a humorous description of this ornament of his person : ' Whoever has had the good fortune to see Dr Parr's wig, must have observed, that while it trespasses a little on the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the ante- rior parts, it scorns even episcopal limits behind, and swells out into boundless convexity of frizz, the fieya davfia of barbers, and the terror of the literaiy world.' At Stanmore he abandoned himself to smoking, which became his habit through life. He would sometimes ride in pre- laticai pomp through the streets on a black saddle, bearing in his hand a long cane or wand, with an ivory head like a crosier. At other times he was seen stalking through the town in a dirty striped morning gown. In 1787 Dr Parr published, in conjunction with his friend the Rev Henry Homer, a new edition of Bellendenus De Statu. WUliam Bellenden was a learned Scotchman, who was a Professor in the University of Paris, and wrote in Latin a work in three books, entitled De Statu. Prin- cipis, De Statu BeipubliccE, and De Statu Prisci Orhis. The three books of this republication were dedicated respectively to Mr Burke, Lord North, and Mr Fox ; and Dr Parr prefixed a Latin Preface, exhibiting in high eulogistic relief the characters of those three statesmen, the ' Tria Lumina Anglorum.' The book was pub- lished anonymously, and excited the cui'iosity of the literary world. Parr anticipated the fame which his preface would confer upon him. His vanity was excessive, and so obvious as frequently to expose him to ridicule. If the different pas- sages of his letters, in which he has praised himself, were collected together, they would make a book ; but the one which he wrote to Mr Homer, when he had completed the Preface to Bellendenus, contains an outburst of self-conceit and self- laudation, which is probably without a parallel. As such it is worth transcribing : ' Dear Sir, — What will you say, or rather, what shall I say myself, of mygelf ? It is now ten o'clock at night, and I am smoking a quiet pipe, after a most vehement, and, I think, a most splendid effort of composition — an effort it was indeed, a mighty and a glorious effort; for the object of it is, to lift up Burke to the pinnacle where he ought to have been placed before, and to drag down Lord Chatham from that eminence to which the cowardice of his hearers, and, the credulity of the public, had most weakly and most undeservedly exalted the impostor and father of impostors. Read it, dear Harry ; read it, I say, aloud ; read it again and again ; and when your tongue has turned its edge from me to the father of Mr Pitt, when your ears tingle and ring with my sonorous periods, when your heart glows and beats with the fond and trium- phant remembrance of Edmund Burke — then, dear Homer, you will forgive me, you will love me, you wiU. congratulate me, and readdy wUl 115 DE PARR. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DE PABR. you take xipon yourself the trouble of printing what in writing has cost me much greater though not longer trouble. Old boy, I tell you that no part of the Preface is better conceived, or better wi-itten ; none will be read more eagerly, or felt by those whom you wish to feel it, more severely. Old boy, old boy, it is a stinger ; and now to other business,' &c. — Correspondence, vol. ii., p. 196. Soon after the death of Mr Fox, Dv Parr an- nounced his intention of publishing a life of the statesman whom he so mucli admired. The ex- pectations of the public were disappointed by the publication, in 1809, of Characters of the late Charles James Foot, selected, and in 2^o.rt written, hy Philopatris Varvicensis, two vols. 8vo. Of the first volume one hundred and seventy-five pages are extracted verhatim from public journals, periodical publications, speeches, and othor sources ; and of these characters the best is by Sir James Mackintosh ; next, a panegyric on Mr Fox by Dr Parr himself occupies one hun- dred and thirty-five pages. The second volume is entirely occupied by notes upon a variety of topics which the panegyric has suggested, such as the penal code, religious liberty, and others, plentifully inlaid with quotations from the learned languages. _ Dr Parr's knowledge on ecclesiastical, poli- tical, and literary subjects, was extensive, and his conversation was copious and animated. He had a great reputation in his day as a table- talker, although his utterance was thick, and his manner overbearing, and often violent. Sydney Smith, several years after Dr Parr's death, re- marked, that ' he would have been a more con- siderable man if he had been more knocked about among his equals. He lived with country gen- tlemen and clergymen, who flattered and feared him.' When he met with Dr Johnson, who was more than his equal, at Mr Langton's, as recorded in Boswell {Life, edited by Croker, royal Svo, p. 659), he was upon his good behaviour, and the Doctor praised him. ' Sir, I am much obliged to you for having asked me this evening. Parr is a fair man. I do not know when I have had an occasion of such free controversy. It is remark- able how much of a man's life may pass without meeting any instance of this kind of open dis- cussion.' In the performance of his clerical duties Dr Parr was assiduous ; he was an advocate for more than the pomp and circumstance of the established forms of public worship. His wax I'audles were of unusual length and thickness, his communion-plate massive, and he decorated his church, at his own expense, with windows of ]iainted glass. He had an extraordinary fond- ness for church-bells, and in order to furnish his belfry up to the height of his wishes he made many appeals to the liberality of his friends and correspondents. He himself writes, ■ I have been importunate, and even impudent.' In one of his letters he intimates an intention of writing a work on Campanology ; but even if he had done so, he would hardly have reached the lieight of enthusiasm of Joannes Barbricius, who, in his book, De Coelo et Calesti Statti, Meutz, 1618, employs four hundred and twenty- five pages to prove that the principal employ- ment of the blessed in heaven will be the ringing of bells. His style, as a winter of English, is exceed- ingly artificial. Sydney Smith, in reviewing his Spital Sermon, preached in 1800, gives a descrip- tion of it which is generally applicable to all his compositions. ' The Doctor is never simple and natural for a single moment. Everything smells of the rhetorician. He never appears to forget himself, or to be hurried by his subject into ob- vious language Dr Parr seems to think that eloquence consists not in an exuberance of beautiful images, not in simple and sublime conceptions, not in the feelings of the passions, but in a studious arrangement of sonorous, exotic, and sesquipedal words.' He had a very high opinion of himself as a writer of Latin epitaphs, of which he composed about thirty. At a dinner, when Lord Erskine had delighted the company with his conversation, Dr Parr, in an ecstasy, called out to him, ' My Lord, I mean to write your epitaph.' Erskine, who was a younger man, replied, ' Dr Parr, it is a temptation to commit suicide.' The epitaph on Dr Johnson, inscribed on his monument in St Paul's Cathe- dral, was written by Dr Parr. At the end of the fourth volume of his works, is a long corres- pondence respecting this epitaph, between Parr, Sir Joshua Reynolds, M alone, and other friends of the deceased Doctor. The reader ' will be amused at the burlesqvie importance which Parr attaches to epitaph-writing.' — Croker. Dr Parr's handwriting was very bad. Sir WiUiam Jones writes to him — ' To speak plainly with you, your English and Latin characters are so badly formed, that I have infinite difficulty to read your letters, and have abandoned all hopes JANUARY 15. THE BUELE8QUE ENGAGEMENT. of deciplierinf; many of tliem. Your Greek is wholly illegible ; it is perfect algebra.'* TALMA. Though Talma displayed in early boyhood a remarkable tendency to theatricals, his first attempt on a public stage, in 1783, was such as to cause his friends to discommend his pursuing the histrionic profession. It was not till a second attempt at the Theatre Fran^ais (four years later) that he fixed the public approbation. On the retirement of Lavire, he became principal tragedian at that establishment ; and no sooner was he launched in his career than his superior intellect began to work towards various reforma- tions of the stage, particularly in the depart- ment of costume. He is said to have been the first in his own country who performed the part of Titus in a lloman toga. Talma was an early acquaintance of the first Napoleon, then Captain Buonaparte, to whom he was first introduced in the green-room of the Theatre Fran9ais ; and he used to relate that, about this time, Buonaparte, being in great pecu- niary distress, had resolved to throw himself into the Seine, when he fortunately met with an old schoolfellow, who had just received a consi- derable sum of money, which he shared with the future emperor. ' If that warm-hearted com- rade,' said he, ' had accidentally passed down another street, the history of the next twenty years would have been written without the names of Lodi, Marengo, Aiisterlitz, Jena, Friedland, Moscow, Leipsig, and Waterloo.' "^Tien his friend Buonaparte was setting out on his expedition to Egypt, the great tragedian offered, in the warmth of his friendship, to accompany him ; but Napoleon would not listen to the proposal. ' Tabna,' said he, 'you must not commit such an act of foil}'. You have a brilliant course before you ; leave fighting to those who are unable to do anything better.' When Napoleon rose to be First Consul, his reception of Talma was as cordial as ever. When he in time became Emperor, the actor conceived that the intimacy would be sure to cease ; but he soon received a special invitation to the Tuileries. Talma was a man of cultivated mind, unerring taste, and amiable qualities. ' His dignity and tragic powers on the stage,' says Lady Morgan, ' are curiously but charmingly contrasted with the simplicity, playfulness, and gaiety of his most unassuming, unpretending manners in pri- vate life.' He had long been married to a lady of fortune. He lived in affluence principally at his villa in the neighbourhood of Paris, whither, twice a week, he went to perform. Talma, when near his sixtieth year, achieved one of his greatest triumphs in Jouy's tragedy of Sylla. Napoleon had then (December, 1821) been dead only a few months. The actor, in order to recal the living image of his friend and patron, dressed his hair exactly after the Avell- remembered style of the deceased emperor, and * The Works of Samuel Parr, LL.D., Prebendary of St Paul's, Curate of Hatton, &c., with Memoirs of his Life and Writings, and a Selection from his Correspond- ence, by John Johnstone, M.D. 8 vols. 8vo, 1828. his dictator's wreath was a fac-simile of the laurel crown in gold which was placed upon Napoleon's brow at Notre Dame. The intended identity was recognised at once witli great ex- citement. The government thought of interdict- ing the play ; but Talma was privately directed to curl his hair in future, and adopt a new arrangement of the head. ' Talma was taken ill at Paris, where he expired without pain, 19th October 1826. His majestic features have been preserved to us by David in marble. The body was borne to the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, attended by at least 100,000 mourners ; and his friend, comrade, and rival. Lafont, placed upon the coffin a wreath of immortelles, and pronounced an affectionate fune- ral oration.' — Cole's Life of Charles Kean. Talma was no less honoured and esteemed by Louis XVIII. than by Napoleon. In 1825 he pub- lished some reflections on his favourite art; and, June 11, 1826, he appeared for the last time on the stage in the part of Charles VI. He is said altogether to have created seventy-one characters, the most popular of which were Orestes, CEdipus, Nero, Manlius, Csesar, Cinna, Augustus, Corio- lanus. Hector, Othello, Leicester, Sylla, Eegulus, Leonidas, Charles Yl., and Henry VIII. He spoke English perfectly ; he was the friend and guest of John Kemble, and was present in Covent Garden Theatre, when that great actor took his leave of the stage. THE BURLESQUE ENGAGEMENT. ' many to the steep of Highgate hie ; Ask, ye Boeotian shades ! * the reason why ? 'Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery, In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, And consecrate the oath with draught and dance till morn. ' Byeox. The poet here alludes to a curious old custom which has been the means of giving a little gentle merriment to many generations of the citizens of London, but is now fallen entirely out of notice. It was localised at Highgate, a well-known village on the north road, about five miles from the centre of the metropolis, and usually the last place of stoppage for stage coaches on their way thither. Highgate has many villas of old date clustering about it, wealthy people having been attracted to the place on account of the fine air and beautiful views which it derives from its eminent site: Charles Mathews had his private box here ; and Coleridge lived with Mr Gillman in one of the Highgate terraces. The village, however, was most remarkable, forty years ago, and at earlier dates, for the extraordinary number of its inns and taverns, haunts of recreation-seeking London- ers, and partly deriving support from the nume- rous travellers who paused there on their way to town. When Mr William Hone was publishing his Even/ Bay Boole in 1 826, he found there were no fewer than nineteen licensed houses of entertain- ment in this airy hamlet. The house of greatest * Byron wrote this verse in Thebes, the capital of Boeotia. 117 THE BURLESQUE ENGAGEMENT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE BUEtESQUE ENGAGEMENT. dignity and lari^est accommodation was the Gate House, so called from the oriijinal building having been connected with a gate which here closed the road, and tVom which the name of the village is xmderstood to have been derived. Another hos- telry of old standing was ' The Bell.' There were also ' The Green Dragon,' ' The Bull,' ' The Angel.' ' The Crown.' ' The Flask,' &c. At every one of these public-houses there was kept a pair of horns, either ram's, bull's, or stag's, mounted on a stick, to serve in a burlesque ceremonial which time out of mind had been kept np at the taverns of Highgate, commonly called ' Swear- ing on the Horns.' It is believed that this custom took its rise at ' The Gatehouse,' and gradually spread to the other houses — perhaps was even to some extent a cause of other houses being set up, for it came in time to be an attrac- tion for jovial parties from London. In some cases there was also a pair of mounted horns over the door of the house, as designed to give the chance passengers the assurance that the merry ceremonial was there practised. And the ceremonial — in what did it consist ? Simply in this, that when any person passed through Highgate for the first time on his way to Loudon, he, being brought before the horns at one of the taverns, had a mock oath administered to him, to the effect that he would never drink small beer when he coidd get strong, unless he liked it better; that he would never, except on similar grounds of choice, eat brown bread when he could get white, or water-gruel when he could command turtle-soup ; that he would never make love to the maid when he might to the mistress, unless he preferred the maid; and so on with a number of things, regarding which the prefer- ableness is equally obvious. Such at least was the bare substance of the affair ; but of course there was room for a luxuriance of comicality, according to the wit of the imposer of the oath, and the simpHcity of the oath-taker ; and, as might be expected, the ceremony was not a dry one. Scarcely ever did a stage-coach stop at a Highgate tavern in those days, without a few of the passengers being initiated amidst the laughter ^ad to a detection. He disappeared tor a short time occasionally, in order, as is supposed, to obtain supjilies of money. The marriage took place on the ;Jrd of October 1791, not long after tlie divorce of the first Mrs Henry Cecil was accomplished. Two years after the marriage (December 27, 17l>3), Mr Cecil succeeded to the peerage and estates in consequence of the death of his xincle ; and it became necessary that he should quit his obscurity at Hodnet. Probably the removal of the pair to 13urleigh House, near Stamford, was eflected under the circumstances described by the Laureate. It is also true that the peasant countess did not prove quite up to the part she had been unwittingly drawn into. Being, as it chanced, a rudd^'-faced and rather robust woman,* she did not pine away in the manner described by Mr Tennyson ; but after having borne her hus- band three children (amongst whom was the peer who succeeded), she sickened and died, January 18, 1797. The earl was afterwards created a marquis, married a third wife, the Dowager Duchess of Hamilton, and died in ISOli.f DEATH AND FUNERAL OF A SQUAW IK LONDON. Examples of the Eed Men of North America — so absurdly called Indians — have at various times visited England. The readers of the Spectator will remember Addison's interesting account of four kings of the nations lying between New York and Canada, who came to London in 1710, and were introduced to Queen Anne. So lately as 1835, a party of the Michigan tribe, including the chief, Muk Coonee (the Little Boar), appeared amongst us, the object being a negotiation for the sale of certain lands. Arrangements were made for their being presented to King William on the 18th of January; but the chief found on that day a very different affair on his hands. His squaw, the Diving 3£ouse, of only twenty-six years, sickened and on that day died, at the lodging which the party occupied in tlie Waterloo Eoad. When this lady of the wild felt a mortal sickness upon her, she refused all medicine, saying if the Great Spirit intended that she should then die, he would be angry at any attempt on her part to avert the doom. The only thing she would allow to be done for her was the administration of the rite of baptism, and this was only submitted to because she was told there might consequently be more ceremony at her funeral. Loud were the wailings of the chief and his friends round the couch of the dead squaw. When preparations were necessary for the funeral, he took a pride in making them as hand- some as he could. He placed her in a richly Such are the accounts usually given ; but in a por- trait of the noble pair, by Lawrence, kept in Burleigh House, the lady appears possessed of an oval countenance, of what we would call very considerable beauty, and the reverse of rustic in style. t Tennyson's Poems, 10th ed., p. 355. Notes and Queries, 1st sen, xii. 280, 355 ; 2nd ser., i. 437; ii. 457. Colllns's Peerage, by Brydges, ii. 609 132 ornamented coffin, with a silver plate bearing an inscription. An elaborate shroud was laid over her Indian garments ; laurel leaves and a bouquet were placed on her breast ; her earrings were laden with ornaments ; her cheeks were painted red ; and a splendid Indian shawl was thrown over all. The funeral took place at St John's churchyard, in the Waterloo Eoad. The clergy- man read the service in the usual English form. The coffin was lowered, a white rose thrown upon it, and then the dull cold earth. Shaw Whash (' Big Sword') pronounced an oration in his native language ; and then the funeral cortege returned to the lodgings. The chief, with much dignity, addressed to the persons assembled a few words, which were translated by his French interpreter, M. Dunord. ' For three years prior to my visit to this country,' he said, ' I rested on the bosom of my wife in love and happiness. She was everything to me ; and such was my fear that illness or accident might part us in England, that I wished her to remain behind in our settlements. This she would not consent to, saying, " That I was all the world to her, and in life or death she would remain with me ! " We came, and I have lost her. She who was all my earthly happiness is now under the earth ; but the Great Spirit has placed her there, and my bosom is calm. I am not, I never was, a man of tears ; but her loss made me shed many.' This Avas not the last sorrow of poor Muk Coonee. A few days after the burial of the squaw, another of his companions was taken from him. This was ' Thunder and Lightning,' a young Indian about the same age as the squaw. He, in like manner, was baptized, and was buried in the same churchyard. It was observed that the chief had been looking anxiously around at various times during the ceremony ; and it now appeared that he entertained distrust as to Avhether the grave of his wife had been disturbed. He had in some way marked on or near her grave his totam, or symbol, something which would denote the tribe and rank of the deceased, and which was intended to secure inviolable respect for the sacred spot. Some of the appearances around led the poor fellow to suspect that the grave had been tampered with. Earnest were the endeavours made to assiire him that his fears were groundless, .and he at length was induced to believe that the grave of the 'Diving Mouse' had not been opened. Prussic Acid. — The peach (we gather from Dr Daubeny's Lectures on Roman Hushandrij) was brought from Persia, and Columella alludes to the fable of its poisonous qualities. ' Could this mistake arise,' asks Dr Daubeny, ' from a know- ledge of the poisonous properties of the prussic acid existing m the kernels of the peach ? ' It may be observed that a notion prevailed in Egypt, probably referring to the secret of the Psylli, that a citron eaten early in the morning was an anti- dote a^^ainst all kinds of poison. Its juice, in- i'ected into the veins, would have a similar effect. Blackberries, when perfectly ripe, were eaten by the Komans, and by the Greeks were considered a preventive of gout. WULSTAX, BISnOP OF ■WOBCESTEE. JANUAEY 19. "WULSTAN, BISUOP OF WOECESTER. JANUARY 19. Ss Marls, Martha, Audifax, and Abaclium, martyrs, 270. St Lomer, 593. St Blaithmaic, abbot in Scotland, 793. St Knut (Canutus), king of Denmark, martyr, 1036. StWulstan, bishop of Worcester, 1095. St Henry of England, martyr in Finland, 1151. "SVULSTAX, BISHOP OF WORCESTER. St Wulstan was the last saint of tlie Anglo- Saxon Church, the link between the old English Church and hierarchy and the Norman. He was a monk, indeed, and an ascetic ; still, his voca- tion lay not in the school or cloister, but among the people of the market-place and the village, and he rather dwelt on the great broad truths of the Gospel than followed them into their results. Though a thane's son, a series of unexpected cir- cumstances brought him into the religious profes- sion, and he became prior of a monastery at Wor- cester. Born at Long Itchington, in Warwick- shire, and educated at the monasteries of Evesham and Peterborough, the latter one of the richest houses and the most famous schools in England, he was thoughtful above his years, and volun- tarily submitted to exercises and self-denials from which other children were excused. To Wulstan, the holy monk, the proud Earl Harold once went thirty miles out of his way, to make his confession to him, and beg his prayers. He was a man of kind yet blunt and homely speech, and delighted in his devotional duties ; the common people looked upon him as tlieir friend, and he used to sit at the church door listening to complaints, redressing wrongs, helping those who were in trouble, and giving advice, spiritual and temporal. Every Sunday and great festival he preached to the people : his words seemed to be the voice of thunder, and he drew together vast crowds, wherever he had to dedicate a church. As an example of his practical preaching, it is related that, in reproving the greediness which was a common fault of that day, AVulstan confessed that a savory roast goose which was preparing for his dinner, had once so taken up his thoughts, that he could not attend to the service he was performing, but that he had punished himself for it, and given up the use of meat in conse- quence. At length, in 10G2, two Eoman cardinals came to Worcester, with Aldred the late bishop, now Archbishop of York ; they spent the whole Lent at the Cathedral monastery, where Wulstan was prior, and they were so impressed with his austere and hard-working way of life, that partly by their recommendation, as well as the popular voice at Worcester, Wulstan was elected to the vacant bishopric. He heard of this with sorrow and vexation, declaring that he would rather lose his head than be made a bishop ; but he yielded to the stern rebuke of an aged hermit, and re- ceived the pastoral staff from the hands of Edward the Confessor. Tlie Normans, when they came, thought him, like his church, old- fashioned and homely ; but they admired, though in an Englishman, his unworldly and active life, which was not that of study and tlioughtful retirement, but of ministering to the common people, supplying the deficiencies of the paro- chial clergy, and preaching. He rode on horse- back, with his retinue of clerks and monks, through his diocese, repeating the Psalter, the Litanies, and the office for the dead ; his cham- berlain always Jiad a purse ready, and ' no one ever begged of Wulstan in vain.' In these pro- gresses ho came into personal contact with all his flock, high and low — with the rude crowds, beggars and serfs, craftsmen and labourers, as well as with priests and nobles. But everything gave way to his confirming children — from sunrise to sunset he would go without tasting food, blessing batch after batch of the little ones. Wulstan was a great church builder : he took care that on each of his own manors there should be a church, and he urged other lords to follow his example. He rebuilt the cathedral of his see, and restored the old ruined church of West- bury. When his new cathedral was ready for use, the old one built by St Oswald was to be demolished ; Wulstan stood in the churchyard looking on sadly and silently, but at last burst into tears at this destruction, as he said, of the work of saints, who knew not how to build fine churches, but knew how to sacrifice themselves to God, whatever roof might be over them. Still, with a life of pastoral activity, Wulstan retained the devotional habits of the cloister. His first words on awaking were a psalm; and some homily or legend was read to him as he lay down to rest. He attended the same services as when in the monastery; and each of his manor houses had a little chapel, where he used to lock himself in to pray in spare hours. It cannot be said of Wulstan that he was much of a respecter of persons. He had rebuked and warned the headstrong Harold, and he was not less bold before his more imperious successor. At a council in Winchester, he bluntly called upon William to restore to the see some lands which he had seized. He had to fight a stouter battle with Lanfranc, who, ambitious of deposing him for incapacity and ignorance, in a synod held before the king, called upon the bishop to deliver up his pastoral stafl'and ring; when, according to the legend, Wulstan drove the stafi* into the stone of the tomb of the Confessor, where it re- mained fast imbedded, notwithstanding the eflorts of the Bishop of Eochester, Lanfranc, and the king himself, to remove it, which, however, Wulstan easily did, and thenceforth was recon- ciled to Lanfranc ; and they subsequently co- operated in destroying a slave trade which had long been carried on by merchants of Bristol with Ireland. Wulstan outlived William and Lanfranc. He passed his last Lent with more than usual solemnity, on his last Maundy washing the feet and clothes of the poor, bestowing alms and ministering the cup of ' charity ;' then supplying them, as they sat at his table, with shoes and victuals ; and finally reconciling penitents, and washing the feet of his brethren of the convent. On Easter-day, he again feasted with the poor. 133 ja:mi:s watt. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONGREVE AND VOLTAIliK. At AYhitsuntido following, being taken ill, lie pvepavcd for death, but lie lingered till tlie first day of the ue^v year, -nhen he finally took to his bed. ]Ie was laid so as to have a view of the altar of a ehapel, and thus he followed the psalms whieh were sung. On the 19th of January 1095, at midnight, he died in the eighty-seventh year of his age, "and the thirty-third of his episcopate. Contrary to the usual custom, the body was laid out, arranged in the episcopal vestments and crosier, before the high altar, that the people of "Worcester might look once more on their good bishop. His stone coffin is, to this day, shewn in the presbytery of the cathedral, the crypt and early Norman portions of which are the work of AYuistan.* Bom. — Nicholas Copernicus, 1472 ; James Watt, 1736. i)ic(/.— Charles Earl of Dorset, 1706 ; William Con- grcve, poet, 1729; Thomas Ruddiman, grammarian, 1757 ; Isaac Disraeli, miscellaneous writer, 1848. JAMES WATT. James Watt was, as is well known, a native of the then small seaport of Greenock, on the Firth of Clyde. His grandfather was a teacher of mathematics. His father was a builder and con- tractor — also a merchant, — a man of superior sagacity, if not ability, prudent and benevolent. The mother of Watt was noted as a woman of fine aspect, and excellent judgment and conduct. When boatswains of ships came to the father's shop for stores, he was in the habit of throwing in an extra c[uantity of sail-needles and twine, with the remark, ' See, take that too ; I once lost a ship for want of such articles on board.' f The young mechanician received a good elementary education at the schools of his native town. It was by the overpowering bent of his own mind that he entered life as a mathematical-instrument- makor. When he attempted to set tip in that business at Glasgow, ho met with an obstruction from the corporation of Hammermen, who looked upon him as an intruder upon their privileged ground. The world might have lost Watt and his inven- tions through this unworthy cause, if he had not had friends among the professors of the Uni- versity, — Muirhead, a relation of his mother, and Anderson, the brother of one of his dearest school-friends, — by whose influence he was fur- nished with a workshop within the walls of the college, and invested with the title of its instru- ment-maker. Anderson, a man of an advanced and liberal mind, was Professor of Natural Philosophy, and had, amongst his class apparatus, a model of Newcomen's steam-engine. He required to have it repaired, and put it into Watt's hands for the purpose. Through this trivial accident it was that the young mechanician was led to make that improvement of the steam-engine which gave a new power to civilized man, and has revolutionised tho world. The model of Newcomen has very * The writer of this article acknowledges his obliga- tions to the Li,)es of English Saints, 1844. t Williamson's Memorials of James Watt. 4to, 1856. p. 155 134 fortunately been preserved, and is now in the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow College. MODEL OF NEWCOMEN ,S STEAM-ENGINE. Watt's career as a mechanician, in connection with Mr Boulton, at the Soho Works, near Bir- mingham, was a brilliant one, and ended in raising him and his family to fortune. Yet it cannot be heard without pain, that a sixth or seventh part of his time was diverted from his proper pursuits, and devoted to mere ligitatiou, rendered unavoid- able by the incessant invasions of his patents. He was often considted about supposed inven- tions and discoveries, and his invariable rule was to recommend that a model should be formed and tried. This he considered as the only true test of the value of any novelty in mechanics. C0NGE.EVJ5 AND VOLTAIRE. Congreve died at his house in Surrey-street, Strand, from an internal injury received in being overturned in his chariot on a journey to Bath — after having been for several years afflicted with blindness and gout. Here he was visited by Voltaire, who had a great admiration of him as a writer. ' Congreve spoke of his works,' says Vol- taire, ' as of trifles that were beneath him, and hinted to me, in our first conversation, that I should visit him on no other footing than upon that of a gentleman who led a life of plainness and simplicity. I answered, thai, had lie hcen so vvfortimate as to he a mere gentleman, I should never have come to see him ; and I was very I3AAC DISEAELI. JANUAEY 19. ISABEL, QUEEN OF DENMAKK. mueh disgusted at so unreasonable a piece of vanity.' This is a flue rebuke. Congreve's remains lay in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, and he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument was erected to his memory by Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, to whom he bequeathed £10,000, the accumulation of attentive parsimony. The Duchess purchased with £7,000 of the legacy a diamond necklace. ' How much better,' says Dr Young, ' it would have been to have given the money to Mrs Brace- girdle, with whom Congreve was very intimate for years ; yet still better would it have been to have left the money to his poor relations in want of it.' ISAAC DISRAELI. Few miscellanies have approached the popu- larity enjoyed by the Curiosities of Literature, the work by which Mr Disraeli is best known. This success may be traced to the circumstances of his life, as well as his natural abilities, favour- ing the production of exactly such a work. When a boy, he was sent to Amsterdam, and placed under a preceptor, who did not take the trouble to teach him anything, but turned him loose into a good library. Nothing* could have been better suited to his taste, and before he was fifteen he had read the works of Voltaire and dipped into Bayle. When he was eighteen he returned to England, half mad with the senti- mental philosophy of Eousseau. He declined to enter mercantile life, for which his father had intended him; he then went to Paris, and stayed there, chiefly living in the public libraries until a short time before the outbreak of the French Eevolution. Shortly after his return to England he wrote a poem on the Abuse of Satire, levelled at Peter Pindar : it was successful, and made Disraeli's name known. In about two years, after the reading of Andi'ews's Anecdotes, Disraeb re- marked that a very interesting miscellany might be drawn up by a weU-read man from the library in which he lived. It was objected that such a work would be a mere compilation of dead matter, and uninteresting to the public. Disraeli thought otherwise, and set about preparing a volume from collections of the French Ana, the author adding as much as he was able from English literature. This volume he called Curiosities of Literature. Its great success in- duced him to piiblish a second volume ; and after these volumes had reached a fifth edition, he added three more. He then suffered a long illness, but his literary habits were never laid aside, and as often as he was able he worked in the morning in the British Mixseum, and in his own library at night. He published works of great historical research, including the Life and Reign of Charles I. in five volumes, and the Amenities of Literature in tliree volumes ; but the great aim of his life was' to write allistoiyj of LJnglish Literature, of which tlie Amenities were to be the materials. His literary career was cut short in 1839 by a para- lysis of the optic nerve. He died at the age of eighty-two, retaining to tlie last, his sweetness and serenity of temper and cheerfulness of mind. Shortly before, his son wrote, for a new edition of tlie Curiosities of Literature, a memoir of the author, in which he thus happily sketched the features of his father's character : ' He was himself a complete literary character, a man who really passed his life in his library. Even marriage produced no change in these habits ; he rose to enter the chamber wliere he lived alone with his books, and at night his lamp was ever lit within the same walls. Nothing, indeed, was more remarkable than the isolation of this prolonged existence ; and it could only be accounted for by the united influences of three causes : his birth, which brought him no relations or family acquaintance ; the bent of his disposi- tion ; and the circumstance of his inheriting an independent fortune, which rendered unnecessary those exertions that would have broken up his self-reliance. He disliked business, and he never requu'ed relaxation ; he was absorbed in his pur- suits. In London his only amusement was to ramble among booksellers ; if he entered a club, it was only to go into the library. In tlie country, he scarcely ever left his room but to saunter in abstraction upon a terrace ; muse over a chapter, or coin a sentence. He had not a single passion or prejudice ; all his convictions were the result of his own studies, and were often opposed to the impressions which he had early imbibed. He not only never entered into the politics of the day, but he could never under- stand them. He never was connected with any particular body or set of men ; comrades of school or college, or confederates in that public life which, in England, is, perhaps, the only foundation of real friendship. In the considera- tion of a question, his mind was quite undisturbed by traditionary preconceptions ; and it was this exemption from passion and prejudice which, although his intelligence was naturally somewhat too ingenious and fanciful for the conduct of close argument, enabled him, in investigation, often to shew many of the highest attributes ot the judicial mind, and particularly to sum up evidence with singular happiness and ability.' FAC-SIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. ISABEL, QUEEN OF DENMARK. Died at Ghent, of a broken heart, January 19, 1525, Isabel of Austria, Queen of Denmark, a 'nursing mother' of the Iveformation. Isabel was the second daughter of Philip the Fair of Austria, and Juana la Loca, the first Queen of Spain. She was born at Brussels in 1501, and married at Malines, August 12, 1515, to Chris- tiern of Denmark, who proved little less than her murderer. When he, ' the Nero of the North,' was deposed by his infuriated subjects, she fol- lowed him into exile, soothed him and nursed him, for which her only reward was cruel neglect, and, some add, more cruel treatment, descending even to blows. The frail body which shrined the bright, loving spirit, was soon worn out ; and Isabel died, as above stated, aged only twenty- four years. It will be seen that the Queen spells her name Elizabeth, probably as more consonant with Danish ideas, for she was baptized after her grandmother, Isabel tho Catholic. It is well 135 SCARBOKOUGH WARNING. THE BOOK or DAYS. ANNE OF AUSTRIA. known that our ant-estors (mistakenly) considcrod ElizaLetk and Isabel ideutieal. The autoj^rapk here given is from the Cotton MSS. (Brit. Mus.) Yesp. l'\ III. Scarhoroufih Warnhi;/. — Toby Matthew, Bishop of Durham, in the postcriiit of a letter to the Archbishop of York, dated January 19, 1G03, says : 'When I was in the midst of this discourse, I received a message from my Lord Chamberlain, that it was his Majesty's pleasure that I shoidd preach before him on Sunday next; which Scarhorough learning did not only perplex me, &c. ' ' Scarborough warning ' is alluded to in a ballad by Heywood, as referring to a summary mode of dealing with suspected thieves at that place ; l>y Fuller, as taking its rise in a sudden surprise of Scar- borough Castle by Thomas Stafford in 1557 ; and it is quoted in Harrington's old translation of Ariosto— ' Thoy took them to a fort, with such small treasure, As in to Scarborow warning they had leasure.' There is considerable likeliliood that the whole of these writers are mistaken on the subject. In the parish of Anwoth, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, there is a rivulet called Shyrehiuii, which usually appears as gentle and innocent as a child, being just sufficient to drive a mill; but fron) having its origin in a spacious bosom of the neighbouring hills, it is liable, on an}' ordinary fall of rain, to come down suddenly in prodigious volume and vehemence, carrying away hay- ricks, washings of clothes, or anjiihing else that may be exposed on its banks. The abruptness of the danger has given rise to a proverbial expression, gene- rally used throughout the south-west province of Scot- land, — Skyrehiirn ivarning. It is easy to conceive that this local phrase, when heard south of the Tweed, woidd be mistaken iov Scarhorongh ivarning ; in which case, it would he only too easy to imagine an origin for it connected with that Yorkshire watering-place. Shalcspeare' s GeograjMcal Knowledge. — The great dramatist's unfortunate slip in representing, in liis Winter's Tale, a shipwrecked party landing in Bohe- mia, has been palliated by the discovery which some one has made, that Bohemia, in the thirteenth cen- tury, had dependencies extending to the sea-coast. But the only real palliation of which the case is suscep- tible, lies in the history of the origin of the play. Om* gi'eat bard, in this case, took his story from a novel named Pandosto. In doing so, for some reason which probably seemed to him good, he transposed the re- spective circvunstances said to have taken place in Sicily and Bohemia, and, simply through advertence, failed to observe that what was suitable for an island like Sicily was unsuitable for an inland coimtry hke Bohemia. Shakspeare did not stand alone in his defective geographical knowledge. We learn from his con- temporary, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, that Luines, the Prime Minister of France, when there was a question 136 made about some business in Bohemia, asked whether it was an inland country, or lay upon the sea. We ought to remember that in the beginning of the seventeenth century, from the limited intercourse and interdependence of nations, there was much less occasion for geographical knowledge than there now is, and the means of obtaining it were also intinitely less. JANUARY 20. ST AGNES' EVE. St Fabian, pope, 250. St Sebastian, 288. St Eutby- mius, 473. St Fechin, abbot in Ireland, 664. St Fabian is a saint of the English calendar. Born. — Frederick, Prince of Wales, 1707, Hanover; Jean Jacques Bartlielemy, 1716, Cassis. Died— Cardinal Bembo, 1547; Rodolph H., emperor, 1612; Cbarle?, first Duke of Mancliester, 1722; Charles VII., emperor, 1745; Sir James Fergusson, 1759; Lord Chancellor Yorke, 1770; David Garrick, 1779; John Howard, 1790. ANNE OF AUSTRIA. This extraordinary ■woman, daughter of Pliilip II. of Spain and queen of Louis XIII., exercised great influence upon the fortunes of France, at a critical period of its history ; thus in part making good the witty saying, — that when queens reign, men govern ; and that when kings govern, women eventually decide the course of events. Soon after the marriage of Anne, the administration fell into the hands of Cardinal Richelieu, who took advantage of the coldness and gravity of the queen's demeanour to inspire Louis with dis- like and jealousy. Induced by him to believe that the queen was at the head of a conspiracy to get rid of him, Louis compelled her to answer the charge at the council table, when her dignity of character came to her aid; and she obseiwed contemptuously, that ' too little was to be gained by the change to render such a design on her part probable.' Alienated from the king's affection and council, the c|ueen remained without influence till death took away monarch and minister and left to Anne, as mother of the infant monarch (Louis XIV.), the undis- puted reins of power. With great discernment, she chose for her minister, Mazariu, who was DEATH OF GAKHICK. JANUAKY 20. COLDEST DAY IN THE CENTUET. CTitirely dependent upon lioi', and uhose abilities she made use of without being in danger from his ambition. But the minister became unpopular: a successful insurrection ensued, and Anne and the court -were detained for a time prisoners in the Palais Eoyal, by the mob. The Spanish pride of the queen was compelled to submit, and the people had their will. But a civil war soon commenced between Anne, her ministers and their adherents, on one side ; and the noblesse, the citizens and people of Paris, on the other. The former triumphed, and hostilities were sus- pended ; but the war again broke out : the court had secured a defender in Turenne, who triumphed over the young noblesse headed by the great Conde ! The nobles and middle classes were never afterwards able to raise their heads, or offer resistance to the royal power up to the period of the great Revolution ; so that Anne of Austria may be said to have founded absolute monarchy in France, and not the subsequent imperiousness of Louis XIV. Anne's portrait in the Vienna gallery shews her to have been of pleasing exterior. Her Spanish haughtiness and love of ceremonial were impressed by education upon the mind of her sou, Louis XIV., who bears the blame and the credit of much that was his mother's. She died at the age of sixty-four. DEATH OF GARRTCK. Garrick, who 'never had his equal as an actor, and will never have a rival,' at Christmas 1778. while on a visit to Lord Spencer, at Althorpe, had a severe fit, from which he only recovered suffi- ciently to enable him to return to town, where he expired on the 20th of January 1779, in his own house, in the centre of the Adelphi Terrace,* in his sixty -third year. Dr Johnson said, 'his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' Walpole, in the opposite extreme: 'Garrick is dead; not a public loss ; for he had quitted the stage.' Garrick's remains lay in state at his house pre- vious to their interment in Westminster Abbey, with great pomp : there were not at Lord Chat- ham's funeral half the noble coaches that attended Garrick's, which is attributable to a political cause. Burke was one of the mourners, and came expressly from Portsmouth to follow the great actor's remains. SIR JOHN SO AXE. This successful architect died at his house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, surrounded by the collec- tion of antiquities and artistic treasures which he bequeathed to the British nation, as "the Soanean Museum." He was a man of exquisite taste, but of most irritable temperament, and the tardy settlement of the above bequest to the country was to him a matter of much annoyance. His remains rest in the burial-ground of St Giles's-in- the-Fields, St Pancras, where two tall cypresses overshadow his tomb. At his death, the trustees appointed by parliament took charge of the Museum, library, books, prints, manuscripts, * The ceiling of the front drawing-room was painted hy Antonio Zucchi, A.Il. A. : the cliimney-picce is said to have cost £300. Garrick died in the back drawing-room, and his widow in the same house and room in 1822. drawings, maps, models, plans and works of art, and the house and offices ; xjroviding for the admission of amateurs and students in painting, sculpture, and architecture ; and general visitors. The entire collection cost Soane upwards of £50,000. THE FIRST PARLIAMENT. It was a great date for England, that of the First Parliament. There had been a Council of the great landholders, secular and ecclesiastic, from Anglo-Saxon times ; and it is believed by some that the Commons were at least occasionally and to some extent represented in it. But it was during a civil war, which took place in the middle of the thirteenth century, marvellousl}^ like that which marked the middle of the seventeenth, being for law against arbitrary royal power, that the first parliaments, properly so called, were assembled. Matthew of Paris, in his Chronicle, first uses the ^vord in reference to a council of the barons in 124.G. At length, in December 1264, Avhen that extraordinary man, Simon de Montfort Earl of Leicester — a mediasval Crom- well — held the weak King Henry III. in his power, and was really the head of the state,' a parliament was summoned, in which there should be two knights for each county, and two citizens for every borough ; the first clear acknow- ledgment of the Commons' element in the state. This parliament met on the 20th of January 1265, in that magnificent hall at AVestminster * which still survives, so interesting a monument of many of the most memorable events of English history. The representatives of the Commons sat in the same place with their noble associates, probably at the bottom of the hall, little disposed to assert a controlling voice, not joining indeed in any vote, for we hear of no such thing at first, and far of course from having any adequate sense of the important results that were to flow from their apjiearing there that day. There, however, they were — an admitted Power, entitled to be consulted in all great national movements, and, above all, to have a say in the matter of taxation. The summer months saw Leicester overpowered, and himself and nearly all his associates slaugh- tered ; many changes afterwards took place in the constitutional system of the country; but the Commons, once allowed to play a part in these great councils, were never again left out. Strange that other European states of high civilization and intelligence should be scarcely yet ari'ived at a principle of popular representation, which England, in comparative barbai'ism, realised for herself six centuries ago ! THE COLDEST DAY IN THE CENTURY, JAN. 20, 1838. Notwithstanding the dictum of M. Arago, that ' whatever may be the progress of the sciences, never will observers avIio are trustworthy and careful of their reputation, venture to foretell the state of the weather,' — this pretension received a singular support in the winter of 1838. This was the first year in which the noted Mr Mvirphy * Fabyan's Chronicle, i, 35G. 137 THE BOOK OF DAYS. piiblislied liis Weather Almanac; wherein^ liis iiulication for the 20tli day of January is ' Pair. Prob. lowest deg. of Winter temp.' ]3y a lia^ipy chanee for him.' this ])roved to be a remarkal)ly cold day. At sunrise, the thermometer stood at •i' below zero : at 9 a.m.. +6°; at 12 (noon), +l'i°; at 2 p.m., 1(5 j-°; and then increased to 17°, the higliest in the day ; the wind veering from the cast to the south. The popular sensation of course reported that the lowest dei::;ree of temperature for the season appeared to have been reached. The supposition was proved by other signal circumstances, and partieuharly the eflccts seen in the vegetable kingdom. In all the nursery-grounds about London, the half-hardy, shrubby plants were more or less injured. Herbaceous plants alone seemed little aiiceted, in consequence, perhaps, of the protection they received from the snowy covering of the ground. Two things may be here remarked, as being al- most unprecedented in the annals of meteorology in this country: first, the thermometer below zero for some hours ; and secondly, a rapid change of nearlj'- fifty-six degrees. — Correspondent of tlie Fhilosophical Magazine, 1838. Still, there was nothing very remarkable in Miu'phy's indication, as the coldest day in the year is generally about this time (January 20). Nevertheless, it was a fortunate hit for the weather prophet, who is said to have cleared £3tX)0 by that year's almanac ! It may amuse the reader to sec what were the rcsxilts of Murphy's predictions throughout the year 1838: Days. Decidedly ■wrong days. Jannaiy, pai February . •tly right on 2,3 . 8 . . 8 , 20 jNIarcli 11 . . 20 AprU 15 . . 15 iVIay Juue 12 . 18 . . 19 . 12 July August 10 . 15 . . 20 . 15 September . October 15 . 11 . . 15 . 20 November . 14 . . 16 Decemljcr . 15 . . 10 In Haj-dn's Dictionary of Dales it is recorded : ' Perhaps the coldest day ever known in London was December 25, 1796, when the thermometer was 16° below zero;' but contemporary authority for this statement is not given. SIC^VTING. This seems a fair opportunity of adverting to the winter amusement of skating, which is not only an animated and cheerful exercise, but susceptible of many demonstrations which may be called elegant. Holland, which with its exten- sive water surfaces affords such peculiar facilities for it, is usually looked to as the home and birth- place of skating; and we do not hear of it in England till the thirteenth century. In the former country, as has been remarked"in an early page of this volume, the use of skates is in great favour ; and it is even taken advantage of as a 138 means of travelling, market-women having been known, for a prize, to go in this manner thirty miles in two hours. Opportunities for the exer- cise are, in Britain, more limited. Nevertheless, wherever a piece of smooth water exists, the due freezing of its surface never fails to bring forth hordes of enterprising youth to enjoy this truly inviting sport. Skating has had its bone age before its iron one. Fitzstephen, in his History of London, tells us that it was customaiy in the twelfth century for the young men to fasten the leg-bones of animals under their feet by means of thongs, and slide along the ice, pushing themselves by means of an iron-shod pole. Imitating the chivalric fashion of the tournament, they would start in a career against each other, meet, use their poles for a push or a blow, ■when one or other was jiretty siu'e to be hurled down, and to slide a long way in a prostrate condition, probably with some considerable hurt to his person, which we may hope was generally borne Avith good humour. In Moorfields and about Finsbury, specimens of these primitive skates have from time to time been exhumed, recalling the time when these were marshy fields, which in winter were resorted to liy the youth of London for the amusements which Fitzstephen describes. A pair preserved in the British Museum is here delineated. PIIIMITIVE EONE SliATES. The iron age of skating — whenever it might come — was an immense stride in advance. A pair JANUAllY 20. of iron skates, made in tlie best modern fasliion, fitted exactly to the Icugtli of the foot, and, well fastened on, must be admitted to be an instrument satisfactorily adapted for its purxoose. With un- skilled skaters, who constitute the great multitude, even that simple onward movement in which they indulge, using the inner edge of the skates, is something to be not lightly appreciated, seeing that few movements are more exhilarating. But this is but the walk of the art. What may be called the dance is a very different thing. The highly trained skater aims at performing a series of movements of a graceful kind, which may be looked upon with the same pleasure as we experience from seeing a fine picture. Throwing himself on the ouie>' edge of his instrument, poising himself out of the perpendicular line in 'attitudes which set off a handsome person to un- common advantage, he performs a series of curves within a certain limitecl space, cuts the figure 8, ^f SKATING SCENE. (he figure 3, or the circle, worms and screws back- wards and forwards, or with a group of companions goes through what he calls waltzes and quadrilles. The calmness and serenity of these movements, the perfect self-possession evinced, the artistic grace of the whole exhibition, are sure to attract bystanders of taste, including examples of the fair, — ' whose bright eyes llain influence.' Most such performers belong to skating clubs, — fraternities constituted for the cultivation of the art as an art, and to enforce proper regulations. In Edinburgh, there is one such society of old standing, whose favourite gi-ouud is Duddinp'ston Loch, under the august shadow of Arthur's Seat. The Avriter recalls with pleasure skating exhibi- tions which he saw there in the hard winters early in the present century, when Henry Cockburn and the philanthropist James Simpson were con- spicuous amongst the most accomplished of the club for their handsome figures and great skill in the art. The scene of that loch ' in full bearing,' on a clear winter day, with its busy stirring multitude of sliders, skaters, and curlers, the snowy hills around ^'listening in the sun, the ring of the ice, the shouts of the careering youth, the rattle of the curling stones and the sJiouts of the players, once seen and heard, could never be forgotten. In London, the amusements of the ice are chiefly practised upon the artificial pieces of water in the parks. On Sunday the Gth of January 18GI, during" an uncommonly severe frost, it was calcu- lated that of sliders and skaters, mostly of the humbler grades of the population, there were about GOOO in St James's Park, 4000 on the Eound Pond in Kensington Gardens, 25,000 in the Pc- gent's Park, and 30,000 on the Serpentine in 139 8T AGNES S EVK. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST AGNES S EVE. Hyde Park. There "was, of course, the usual proportion of lieavy falls, awkward collisions. and occasional immersions, but all borne f;ood- Lumourcdly, and none attended with fatal conse- quences. During the ensuing week the same pieces of ice Avere crowded, not only all the daj'. but by night also, torclies being used to illuminate the scene, which was one of the greatest animation and gaiet}'. On three occasions there were refreshment tents on the ice, with gay flags, variegated lamps, and occasional fire-works ; and it seemed as if half London had come to look on from the neighbouring walks and drives. In these ice-festivals, as usually presented in London, there is not much elegant skating to be seen. The attraction of the scene consists mainly in the inlinite appearances of mirth and enjoy- ment which meet the gaze of the observer. The same frost period occasioned a very re- markable aiiair of skating in Lincolnshire. Three companies of one of the llifle Volunteer regiments of that county assembled on the "Witham, below the Stamp End Loch (December 29, 18G0), and had what might be called a skating parade of several hours on the river, performing various evolutions and movements in an orderly manner, and on some occasions attaining a speed of four- teen miles an hour. In that province, pervaded as it is by waters, it was thought possible that, on some special occasion, a rendezvous of the local troops might be effected with unusual expedition in this novel way. The feast of St Agnes was formerly held as in a special degree a holiday for Avomen. It was thought possible for a girl, on the eve of St Agnes, to obtain, by divination, a knowledge of her future husband. She might take a row of pins, and pluck- ing them out one after another, stick them in her sleeve, singing the whilst a paternoster ; and thus insure that her dreams would that night present the person in question. Or, passing into a dif- ferent country from that of her ordinary resi- dence, and taking her right-leg stocking, she might knit the left garter round it, repeating : — ' I kuit this knot, this knot I knit, To know the thing I know not yet, That I may see The man that shall my husband be, Not in his best or worst arraj^, But -what he weareth every day ; That I to-morrow may him ken From among all other men.' Lying down on her back that night, with her hands under her head, the anxious maiden was led to expect that her future spouse would appear in a dream and salute her with a kiss. On this superstition, John Keats founded his beautiful poem, The Eve of St Agnes, of which the essence here follows : — ' They told her how, upon St Agucs's Eve, Young A-irgins miglit have visions of delight. And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did arif'ht : 140 J = . As, suppcrless to bed they must retire. And couch supine their beauties, lily white ; Nor look beliind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. ****** * ' Out went the taper as she hurried in ; Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died : She closed tlie door, she panted, all akin To spirits of tlie air, and visions wide. No nttcr'd syllaljle, or, woe betide ! But to her heart, her heart was voluble. Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Iler throat in vain, and die, heart-stitied, in her dell. ' A casement high and triple arch'd there was, All garlanded with carven imag'rics Of fruits, and iiowers, and bunches of knot grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device lumunerable of stains and sjilendid dyes. As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries. And twilight saints, with dim cmblazonings, A shielded 'scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. ' Fidl on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gides on Madeline's fair breast. As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon ; Eose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst. And on her hair a glory, like a saint. ******* Her vespers done. Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees : Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed. Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, Infancy, fair St Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. ' Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay ; Until the jjoppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day. Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; Bhnded alike from siuishiue and from rain. As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. ' Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress. And listened to her breathinar. He took her hollow lute, — Tamidtuous,— and, in chords that teuderest be. He played an ancient ditty, long since mute. In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy :" Close to her ear touching the melody ; — Wherewith disturb'd, she nttcr'd a soft moan : He ceased — she panted quick — and suddenly Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone : Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone. ' Her eyes w'ere open, but she still beheld, Now wide awake, the vision of her sleej) : There was a painful change, that nigh expcU'd The blisses oi her dream so pure and deeji, At which fair Madeline began to weep. And moan forth witless words with many a sifdi ; While still her gaze on Porphyro woidd keep ; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreaming] y. ST AGNES. JANUARY 21. LORD ERSKINE. " Ah, Porphyro !" said she, "but even now Thy voice w.is ut. Mr I'itt grew anxious about the dinner, when the young man wliom he had advanced from gooseherd to footuran, said, ' Don't, sir, send oil" any express for a cook ; if you think projier, the maid shall cook the dinner. These are your intimate friends, and will take no notice : their servants as yet know nothing of the matter, for I thought they might be frightened to be where there is a dead man. Let me manage, and all will go well, without any alarm being spread.' He accordingly dressed Mr Pitt, saw to everything, and acquitted himself so well, that Mr Pitt soon after made him his valet ; but he did not live much longer, to have his services recompensed. He was an excellent servant. Mr Pitt would some- times order him to precede him a day or two to a place he was about to visit. ' You will excuse me, sir,' the man would reply : 'but I mustn't go ; for if I do, who will attend you when you take your physic to-morrow ? You will be busy, and put it off ; and nobody knows how to give it but myself. ' ' Well, well,' Mr Pitt would answer, 'do so, then;' and would add, ' Ah ! he is very anxious about me — I must let him have his own way.' JANUARY 24. St Timothy, disciple of St Paul, martyr at Ephesus, 97. St Babylas, bishop of Antioch, about 250. Sc Macedonius of Syria, 5th century. St Cadocus or Cadoc, abbot of Wales, 6th century. St Surauus, abbot in Umbria, martyr, 7th century. Born. — Charles Earl of Dorset, poet, 1637; Frederick the Great, 1712 ; Pierre A. Caron de Beaumarchais, musical composer, Paris, 1732. Died. — Justice Henry Yelverton, 1050 ; James Ralph, pohtical writer, 1762. CHARLES EAKL OF DORSET. A wit among lords, a generous friend to lite- rary men, himself a fair Avriter of verses, gay but not reckless, honest far above his time, so much a favourite that, do what he liked, the world never thought him in the wrong, — Dorset claims some respect even in a later and better age. His poems are merely a bunch of trifles ; yet there is some heart, and also some feeling of the deeper realities of life, under the rosy badinage of his well-known ballad. To all yoiL ladies now at land, professedly indited at sea the night before an engagement "with the Dutch fleet, but stated to have been in reality the w-ork of about a week :* 'When any mournfid tune you hear. That dies in every note. As if it sighed with each man's care, For being so remote ; Think how often love we've made To you, when all those tunes were played. 'In justice you can not refuse To think of our cUstress, When we, for hopes of houoiu-, lose Our certain ha2>piness ; AH those designs are but to prove Ourselves more worthy of your love.' * Life by A. Chalmers, Brit. Poets, viii. 339. 156 YOUTH OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. Frederick II., King of Prussia, son of Frederick William I. and of ISophia Dorothea, Princess of Hanover, and surnamed the Great for his talents and successes, was, in his boyhood, treated with extreme severity, through the antagonism of his parents. His youthful tuition was rigid, its sole object being military exercises ; but he received the rudiments of his education from a French lady. The taste he acquired through her means for polite literature, was strongly opposed to the system of his coarse father, who would say, ' My eldest son is a coxcomb, proud, and has a fine French spirit, that spoils all my plans.' The conduct of the old savage towards him was both harsli and cruel ; it was still more so to any one to whom he was attached, or who was in any way, agreeable to the prince. A young girl, who had played on the pianoforte while the prince accom- panied her on the flute, was publicly flogged by the executioner iu the streets of Potsdam. The queen could not endure this injustice towards her son, and arranged that he should seek refuge in England with his maternal uncle George II. This secret plan, whicli was confided only to the prince's sister, and two lieutenants, his friends, was discovered by the King, who, finding that his son had already quitted the palace, sent soldiers in search of him, and lie was discovered just as he was getting into a chariot to carry him to Saxony. One of the lieutenants, his companions, escaped by the fleetness of his horse ; but the other was carried back to Potsdam with the prince ; both being handcufied like malefactors, and thrown into separate dungeons ; and the princess, who implored the king to pardon her brother, was thrown from one of the palace windows. The King had made up his mind that his son should die on the scaffold : ' He will always be a disobedient subject,' said he, ' and I have three other boys who are more than his equals.' His life was only saved by the intercession of the Emperor of Austria, Charles VI., through his ambassador. Count Seckendorf. Nor could the King bring his son to trial ; for neither the ministers nor generals would sit in judgment upon the heir to the crown of Prussia, which so enraged the King that he sent the prince to be confined for life in a fortress at Custrin. Previously to his being conveyed to prison, the lieutenant who had been taken with him, was, by the King's order, executed upon a lofty scafibld, opposite the win- dows of the apartment in which the prince was confined. At Custrin, he saw no one but the governor of the fortress ; books, pens, paper, and his flute, were all denied him. When he had been imprisoned a year, the resentment of his father abated ; he was ordered to Berlin ; and there, at a grand fete at the palace, Frederick, in a grey suit, the only one he had been permitted to wear since his disgrace, was placed behind the chair of his mother. He then grew in favour with his father, who, however, could not forgive his disinclination for military exercises, and his love of music and the fine arts ; but above all his preference of foreign fashions to the plain, inelegant Prussian uniform, which the King so WEATHERCOCKS. JANUAEY 25. ST PAUL 8 DAT. liked. Yet this prince, liaving ascended the tliroue, established the military renown of Prus- sia, and became one of the most famous generals in history ; leaving to his successor a kingdom enlarged from 2190 to 3515 German square miles, and an army of 200,000 men. Notwithstanding his fame as a monarch, Icgis- Jator, and man of letters, Frederick, according to his own account, spent the happiest years of his life, when he was a youth, in the chateau of Kheinsberg, not far from Berlin. WEATHERCOCKS. The invention of the vane, or weathercock, must have been of very early date. Vitruvius calls it triton, probably from its having in his time the form of a triton. The usual form on towers, castles, and secular build- ings, was that of a banner ; but on ecclesiastical edi- fices, it generally was a representation of the male of the barn-door fowl. According to Ducange, the cock was originally devised as an emblem of clerical vigilance, or what it ought to be. Apart from sym- bolism, the large tail of the cock was well adapted to turn with the wind. Many churches have for a vane the emblem of the saints to whom they are dedicated : thus, St Peter's, Cornhill, London, is surmounted with a key, St Peter being said to keep the key of heaven. St Laurence has for a vane, a gridiron ; and St Laurence, at Nor- wich, has the gridiron, with the holy martyr extended upon the bars. The vane upon St Mildred's Church, in the Poultry, is a gilt ship in full sail ; and that of St Michael's, Queenhithe, is a ship, the hull of which will hold a bushel of grain, referring to the former trafBc in corn at the hithe. St Sepulchre's Church, Skinner-street, has ioxir pin- nacles, each with a vane, which led Howell to say : ' Unreasonable people are as hard to reconcile as the vanes of St Sepulchre's tower, which never looked all four upon one point of the heavens.' The grasshopper of the Royal Exchange is the vane which surmounted the former Exchange. It is of copper-gilt, eleven feet long, and represents the crest of Sir Thomas Gresham, the founder of the first Exchange. But the old civic tradition that this was adopted as an heraldic symbol, from a grassho})per having saved his life when he was a poor famished boy, by attracting a person to the spot where he lay in a helpless condition, — is not supported by fact ; since the letters of Sir Thomas Gresham's father, which are in the Paston collection, bear a seal -with the grasshop2)er. This was likewise the sign of Gres- ham, placed over the door of his bauking-house and goldsmith's shop, in liOmbard- street : this grass- hopper, which was of large size and gilt, existed entire until the year 1795, when the house, now No. 68, was rebuilt. The dragon upon the spire of Bow Church, in Cheap- side, is another celebrated vane : it is of copper gilt, eleven feet in length, and when it was re-gilt in 1820, a young Irishman descended from the spire-point on the back of the dragon, pushing it from the cornices and scaffolds with his feet, in the presence of thou- sands of spectators. One of Mother Shipton's pro- phecies was, that when the dragon of Bow Church and the grasshopper of the Boyal Exchange should meet, London streets would be deluged with blood ! In 1820, both these vanes were lying together in the yard of a stonemason in Old-street-road, but, happily, the prophecy was not fulfilled. The vane at Fotheriugay Church, Northamptonshire, represents the falcon and fetterlock, the badge of the Dukes of York. JANUARY 25. . St Juventinus and Maximinus, martyrs at Antlocb, 363. Sc Apollo, abbot in Thebais, about 393. St Publius, abbot in Syria, 4th century. St Projectus (or St Prix), bishop of Clermont, martyr, C7-1. St Poppo, abbot of Stavello, 1048. The festival of the Conversion of St Paul, instituted by the church in gratitude for so miraculous and so important an instance of the Divine power, ' a perfect model of a true con- version,' is mentioned in several calendars and missals of the eighth and ninth centuries. ' It was for some time kept a holiday of obligation in most churches of the West ; and we read it mentioned as such in England in the council of Oxford, in 1222, in the reign of King Henry III.' — Butler. It is still a festival of the Anglican, as well as other churches. The day has also a celebrity of another descrip- tion, the origin of which has not yet been dis- covered. It has been an article of constant belief in Western Europe, during the middle ages, and even down to our own time, that the whole character of the coming year is prognosticated by the condition of the weather on this day ; and this is the more singidar, as the day itself was one of those to which the old proguostica- tors gave the character of a dies ^ff!/ptiacus, or unlucky day. The special knowledge of the future, which it was believed might be derived from it, were arranged under four heads, in four monkish Latin verses, which are found very frequently in the manuscripts of the middle ages, and prevailed equally on the continent and in our own island. The following is the most correct copy of these verses that we have been able to obtain (in copies of a later date, attempts were made to improve the style of the Latin, which in some degree destroyed their quaintness) : ' Clara dies PauH bona tempora denotat anni ; Si nix vel pluvia, desiguat tempora cara ; Si fiant nebulae, pereunt animaiia quseque ; Si tiant venti, designat prrelia genti.' Fair weather on St Paul's day thus betided a prosperous year ; snow or rain betokened a dear year, and therefore an unfruitful one ; clouds foreboded great mortality among cattle ; and winds were to be the forerunners oi war. Several old translations of these lines into verse in French and English are met with ; the following is one of the English versions : ' If St Paul's day be fair and clear, It does betide a happy year ; But if it chance to snow or rain, Then wiU be dear all kind of grain ; If clouds or mists do dark the skie. Great store of birds and beasts shall die ; And if the winds do flie aloft. Then war shall vexe the kingdome oft.' Other days in the month of January enjoyed at different times, and in different places, a similar reputation among the old prognosticators, but none of them were anything like so generally held and believed in as the day of the Conversion of St Paul. 157 BOBEET BURNS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ROBERT BURNS. lu tlie reign of Philip and Mary (1555), tliis day was observed in tlio luctropolis -nitli great processional state. In the Chronicle of the Greif Friars of London, Ave read that 'on St Paul's day there was a general procession with the children of all the schools in London, with all the clerks, curates, and parsons, and vicars, in copes, with their crosses ; also the choir of St Paul's ; and divers bishops in their habits, and the Bishop of London, with his pontificals and cope, bearing the sacrament under a canopy, and four prebends bearing it in their gray amos ; and so iip into Leadenhall. with the mayor and aldermen in scarlet, with their cloaks, and all the crafts in their best array ; and so came down again on the other side, and so to St Paul's again. And tlien the king, with my lord cardinal, came to St Paul's, and heard masse, and went home again ; and at night great bonfires were made through all London, for the joy of the people that were converted likewise as St Paul was converted.' Down to about this time there was observed, in connection with St Paul's Cathedral, a custom arising from an obligation incurred by Sir William Baud in 1375, when he was permitted to enclose twenty acres of the Dean's land, in consideration of presenting the clergy of the cathedral with a fat buck and doe yearly on the days of the Conversion and Commemoration of St Paul. ' On these days, the buck and the doe were brought by one or more servants at the hour of the procession, and through the midst thereof, and offered at the high altar of St Paul's Cathedral : after which the persons that brought the buck received of the Dean and Chapter, by the hands of their Chamberlain, twelve pence sterling for their entertainment ; but nothing when they brought the doe. The buck being brought to the steps of the altar, the Dean and Chapter, apparelled in copes and proper vest- ments, with garlands of roses on their heads, sent the body of the buck to be baked, and had the head and horns fixed on a pole before the cross, in their procession round about the church, till they issued at the west door, where the keeper that brought it blowed the death of the buck, and then the horns that were about the city answered him in like manner ; for which they had each, of the Dean and Chapter, three and fourpence in money, and their dinner; and the keeper, during his stay, meat, drink, and lodging, and five shillings in money at his going away ; together with a loaf of bread, having in it the picture of St Paul.'* Bom. — Robert Boyle, 1627, Lismore; Thomas Tanner, antiquary, 1674 ; Paul Whitehead, 1709 ; Robert Burns, 1759; Sir Francis Burdett, 1770; James Hogg (the Ettrick Shepherd), poet, 1772 ; Benjamin Robert Haydon, painter, 1786, Plymouth; Daniel Maclise, artist, 1811, Cork. Died. — William Shield, dramatic composer, 1829. ROBERT BURNS. Eobert Burns, the Scottish poet, first saw the light on the 25th January 1759 in a small cottage by the wayside near the Bridge of Doon, two * Beauties of England, v. 486. i 158 miles from Ayr. A wonderful destiny was that of the peasant's babe born that day — a life of toil, imprudence, poverty, closed in early death, but to be followed by an afflatus of popular admiration and sympathy such as never before nor since attended a literary name in any country. The strains of Burns touch all hearts. He has put words together, as scarcely any writer ever did before him. His name has become a steno- graph for a whole system of national feelings and predilections. Other poets, after death, have a tablet in Westminster Abbey, and occasional KOBERT BURNS ; FROM A SILHOUETTE BY MIEKS. allusions in critical writings. But when the centenary of Burns's birth arrives, it is festively celebrated in every town in the country ; nay, wherever our language is spoken — alike in Federal America, in Canada, in Victoria, in Cal- cutta, in Hong Kong, in Natal — there is a pouring out of grateful sentiment in honour of Burns. BIRTH OF BURNS. BY THOMAS MILLER. Upon a stormy winter night Scotland's bright star first rose in sight ; Beaming upon as wild a sky As ever to prophetic eye Proclaimed, that Nature had on hand Some work to glorify the land. Within a lonely cot of clay, That night her gi-eat creation lay. Coila — the nymph who round his brow Twined the red-herried hoUy -bough — Her swift--\vinged heralds sent abroad, To summon to that bleak abode All who on Genius still attend, For good or evil to the end. They came obedient to her call : — The immortal infant knew them all. Sorrow and Poverty — sad pair — Came shivering through the wintry air : Hope, with her calm eyes fixed on Time, His crooked scythe hung with flakes of rime : Fancy, who loves abroad to roam, Flew gladly to that humble home : EOBEBT BUENS. JAI^UAEY 25. EGBERT BUENS. Pity and Love, who, hand in hand, Did by the sleeping infant stand : Wit, A\"ith a harem-skarem grace. Who smiled at Laughtei-'s dimpled face Labour, who came with sturdy tread. By high-souled Independence led : Care, who sat noiseless on the floor ; While Wealth stood up outside the door, Looking with scom on all who came. Until he heard the voice of fame, COTTAGE AT ALLOWAY, THE BIRTH-PLACE OF BURNS. Aud then he bowed down to the ground : — Fame looked on Wealth with eyes profound, Then passed in without sign or soimd. Then Coila raised her hollied brow. And said, ' Who will this child endow ?' Said Love, ' I'll teach him all my lore, As it was never taught before ; Its joys and doubts, its hopes and fears. Smiles, kisses, sighs, delights, and tears.' Said Pity, ' It shall be my part To gift him with a gentle heart.' Said Independence, ' Stout and strong I'll make it to wage war with wrong. ' Said Wit, ' He shall have mirth and laughter, Though all the ills of life come after.' 'Warbling her native wood-notes wild,' Fancy but stooped and kissed the child ; While through her fall of golden hair Hoije looked down -with a smile on Care. Said Labour, ' I will give him bread.' ' And I a stone when he is dead,' Said Wealth, while Shame hung down her head. 'He'll need no monument,' said Fame ; ' I'll give him an immortal name ; When obelisks in ruin fall. Proud shall it stand alcove them all ; The daisy on the mountain side Shall ever spread it far and wide ; Even the road-side thistle down Shall blow abroad his high renown.' Said Time, ' That name, while I remain. Shall still increasing honour gain ; Till the sun sinks to rise no more, And my last sand falls on the shore Of that still, dark, and unsailed sea. Which opens on Eternity.' Time ceased : no sound the silence stirr'd. Save the soft notes as of a bird Singing a low sweet plaintive song. Which murmuring Doon seemed to prolong. As if the mate it fain would find Had gone and ' left a thorn ' behind. Upon the sleeping infant's face Each changing note could Coila trace. Then came a ditty, soft and slow. Of Love, whose locks were white as snow. The immortal infant heaved a sigh, As if he knew such love must die. That ceased : then shrieks and soimds of laughter, That seemed to shake both roof and rafter. Floated from where Eark Alloway HaK buried in the darkness lay. A mingled look of fim and fear Did on the infant's face appear. There was a hush : and then uprose A strain, which had a holy close. Such as with Cotter's psalm is blended After the hard week's labour's ended. And dawning brings the halloM'ed day. In sleep the infant seemed to pray. Then there was heard a martial tread. As if some new-born Wallace led Scotland's armed sons in Freedom's cause. Stern looked the infant in repose. The clang of warriors died away. And then ' a star with lessening ray ' Above the clay-built cottage stood ; While Ayr poured from its rolling flood A sad heart-rending melody. Such as Love chants to Memory, When of departed joys he sings. Of ' golden hours on angel wings ' Departed, to return no more. Pity's soft tears fell on the floor. While Hope spake low, and Love looked pale, And Sorrow closer drew her veU. Groans seemed to rend the infant's breast, Till Coila whispered him to rest ; And then, uprising, thus she spake : ' This child unto myself I take. 159 BOBERT BUKNS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. PRINCESS MARGARET. All hail ! my own inspired Bard, In me thy native Muse regard ! ' * Around the sleeping infant's head Bright trails of golden glory spread. ' A love of right, a scorn of wrong, ' She said, ' nnto him shall belong ; A pitying eye for gentle woman, Kno-\\-ing "to stop aside is human ;" While love in his great heart shall bo A li-viug spring of poetry. Failings he shall have, such as all Were "doomed to have at Adam's fall ; But there shall spring above each vice Some golden tlower of Paradise, Which shall, witli its immortal glow, Half hide the weeds that spread below ; So much of good, so little guile. As shall make angels weep and smile, To think how like him they might be If clothed in frail humanity; His mirth so close allied to tears. That when grief saddens or joy cheers. Like shower and shine in April weather. The tears and smiles shall meet together. A child-like heart, a god-like mind, Simplicity round Genius twined : So much like other men appear. That, when he 's run his wild career. The world shall look with wide amaze. To see what lines of glory blaze Over the chequered course he passed — Glories that shall for ever last. Of Highland hut and Lowland home. His songs shall float across the foam. Where Scotland's music ne'er before Bang o'er the far-off ocean shore. To shut of eve from early morn, They shall be carolled mid the corn. While maidens hang their heads aside. Of Hope that lived, and Love that died ; And huntsmen on the mountains steep, And herdsmen in the valleys deeji. And virgins spinning by the fire. Shall catch some fragment of his lyre. And the whole land shall all year long Eiug back the echoes of his song. The world shall in its choice records Store up his common acts and words, To be through future ages sjiread ; And how he looked, and what he said, ShaU in wild wonderment be read, When coming centuries are dead.' ' " And wear thou this," ' she solemn said, ' And bound the holly round ' his ' head ; The polished leaves, and berries red, Did nistling play ; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away. ' f It is amusing to learn that Burns, when just emerging from obscurity, jocularly anticipated that his birthday would come to be noted among other remarkable events. In a letter to his early patron, Gavin Hamilton, in 1786, he says : ' For my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas a Kempis, or John Bun- yan ; and you may expect henceforth to see my birthday inscribed among the wonderful events, in the Poor Eobin and Aberdeen Almanacks, along with the Black Monday and the Battle of Bothwcll-bridge.' ^ 'The Vision,' by Burns, 160 t Ibid., last verse. It is an affecting circumstance that Burns, dying in poverty, and unable to remunerate his medical attendant in the usual manner, asked the doctor's acceptance of his pair of pistols as a memorial of their friendship. Dr Maxwell, who proved a generous friend to the poor bard's surviving widow and children, re- tained these weapons till his death in 1834, after which they were preserved for some years by his sister. On her death, they were presented to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, in whose museum in Edinburgh they are now kept in an elegant coffer, but open to the inspection of the public* EDWARD II. OF ENGLAND. 25th Januarj^ 1327, is the date of the deposi- tion of the silly king, Edward II., whose reign of twenty years had been little else than one continual wrangle regarding the worthless royal favourites, Gaveston and Despencer. Edward is remarkable in one respect, that, weak and pusil- lanimous himself, he was the son of one and father of another of the most vigorous of English monarchs. Wisdom, dignity, and every manly quality had fairly leaped over this hapless gene- ration. There is an authentic manuscript which gives an account of the expenses of Edward II. during a part of his reign ; and it contains striking evidence of his puerile character. There are repeated entries of small sums, disbursed to make good the losses which the king incurred in playing at o'oss and file, which is neither more nor less than the pitch and toss of modern school- boys. He played at this game with the usher of his chamber, and he would borrow from his barber the money wherewith to play. He did not disdain to travel on the Thames, in a re- turned barge which had brought fagots to his court. There is a sum entered, as paid by the king's own hands, to James of St Albans, who had danced before his highness upon a table, and made him laugh heartily ; and another was con- ferred on Morris Ken of the Kitchen, who, in a hunt at "Windsor, made the king laugh heartily by frequently timibling off his horse.f An elaborate history of the reign could not make us better appreciate the misfortune of the English people in being for twenty years under such a monarch. MAimiAGE OF THE PRINCESS I\IARGARET OF ENGLAND. On St Paul's day, 1502-3, there took place a marriage in the royal family of England, which has been attended with most important conse- quences to the welfare of the entire island. The * At a sale of Dr Maxwell's effects in Dumfries, several pairs of pistols of an ordinary make were disposed of — for the Doctor had been a weapon -fancier to some extent — and t\Yo of these sets have since been severally set forth as Burns's pistols. One of them, which had been bought for the sum of fifteen and sixpence, fell into the hands of a modern bard, and was enshrined by him in an elegant case. See a curious paper on Burns's Pistols, by the Right Rev. Bishop Gillis, of Edinburgh, 1859. t Antiquarian Repertory, 4 vols. 4to, vol. ii. p. 406. OEOEGE SELWYN. JANUARY 25. nONOUE TO MAGISTEATES. Princess Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry VII., was then united at the manor of K-ichmond to King James IV. of Scotland, as represented by his proxy, Patrick Earl of Bothwell. It was foreseen by the English king that this union might lead to that of the two kingdoms, which had so long been at enmity with each other ; and when some of his council objected, that in this event England would become a province of Scotland, he shewed his deeper wisdom by re- marking that it never could be so, as the smaller would ever follow the larger kingdom. The young Queen of Scots was at this time only thirteen years and a quarter old ; neverthe- less, a learned Scotsman, Walter Ogilvy, who was present at the marriage, describes her as if she had already acquired all the graces, mental as well as bodily, of mature womanhood. She was ' decens, urbana, sagax.' Beauty and modesty were united in her. She was of tall stature, had lively eyes, smooth arms, beautiful hands, golden hair, and a tongue enriched with various lan- guages. Her complexion united the beauty of both the roses of her father and mother. Whether she walked or lay, stood or sat, or spoke, a grace attended her. GEORGE SELWYN. January 25, 1791, died the celebrated wit, George Selwyn, in the seventy-second year of his age. The Earl of Carlisle, writing to George Selwyn from Trentham, Sept. 20, 1774, teUs him that a man is about to be tried at the assizes in Car- lisle for murder. His lordship adds, 'If you should happen to be with us at the time of the assizes, I will take care to get you a good place at the execution ; and though our Tyburn may not have all the charms which that has where you was brought up and educated, yet it may be better than no Tyburn.' Lord Carlisle here alludes to the singular taste of George Selwyn for attending executions, in order to watch the conduct of the criminal under his extraordinary circumstances ; a propensity the more remarkable in him, that he was a man of the greatest benevolence and tenderness of nature, and the undisputed prince of the men of wit and humour of his day. It was perhaps to gratify the very benevolence of his nature, by giving it a hearty sensation, that he was so fond of looking upon the sufferings of evil-doers. His friend Horace Walpole, writing in 1750, speaks of him as one ' whose passion it was to sec coffins, corpses, and executions.' Walpole having spoken of one Arthur More, recently deceased, George instantly remarked the curious fact that More had had his coffin chained to that of his mistress. ' How do you know ?' inquired Walpole in some surprise. ' Why,' replied Sel- wyn, ^ ' I saw them the other day in a vault at St Giles's.' ' He was walking this week,' says Walpole, 'in Westminster Abbey, with Lord Abergavenny, and met the man who shews the tombs. " Oh, your servant, Mr Selwyn ; I ex- pected to have seen you here the other day, when the old Duke of Eichmond's body was taken up." ' George had probably been out of town when the event happened, 11 The trial of the unfortunate rebel lords, in 1746, proved a rich treat for Selwyn. He at- tended most assiduously, and went fully into the spirit of the scene. Observing a Mrs. Bethel, who had what is called a hatchet face, he saidi ' What a shame of her to turn her face to the prisoners before they are condemned ! ' Going to get a tooth extracted, he told the dentist he would drop his handkerchief for the signal. Some ladies rallied him about his want of feeling in having gone to see Lord Lovat's head cut off; ' Why,' said he, ' I made amends by going to the undertaker's to see it sewn on again.' And such was really the fact. He attended this last cere- mony with an appearance of great solemnity, concluding the affair by calling out in the manner of the Lord Chancellor at the trial, ' My Lord Lovat, your lordship may rise ! ' Henry, first Lord Holland, who, with all his faults as a statesman, possessed both wit and good nature, touched off the ruling passion of George Selwyn in the neatest manner when on his death-bed. Being informed that George had been inquiring for him, he said to his servant, \ The next time Mr Selwyn calls, show him up : if I am alive, I shall be delighted to see him; and if I am dead, he will be glad to see me.' The story has been often told of George Selwyn, that he went to Paris, in 1756, on pur- pose to see the execution of Damien, for his attempt to assassinate Louis XV. ' On the day of the execution, he mingled with the crowd, in a plain undress and bob-wig; when a French noble- man, observing the deep interest he took in the scene, and imagining, from the plainness of his attire, that he must be a person in the humbler ranks of life, chose to imagine that he must infallibly be a hangman. " Eh, bien, monsieur," he said, " etes-vous arrive pour voir ce spectacle ? " — "Oui, monsieur." — "Vous etes bourreau?" — ''Non, non, monsieur ; je n'ai pas cette honneur ; je ne suis qu'un amateur." '* HONOUR TO MAGISTRATES. On this day, in 1821, there were read before the Society of Antiquaries, some notes by Mr John Adey Eepton, on the custom which pre- vailed in the seventeenth century of erecting two ornamental posts beside the gates of chief magis- trates. Of the examples presented by Mr Ilepton, one may be here copied, being the posts erected beside the door of Thomas Pettys, Mayor of Norwich in 1592. This feature of old municipal usage is often alluded to by the contemporary dra- matists. Thus, in Lingua, or a Combat of the Tongue and the Jive Senses for Siijoerioritj/ : a Pleasant Comedie, 1607, 4to, occurs the following passage : ' Communis Sensus. — Crave my counsel, tell me what manner of man is he ? Can he entertain a man into his house ? Can he hold his velvet cap in one hand, and vail his bonnet with the other ? Knows he how to become a scarlet gown ? Hath he a pair of fresh posts at his door / ' Phantastes. — He's about some hasty state matters ; he talks of posts, methinks. ' Com. S. — Can he part a couple of dogs brawling in the street ? Why, then, chuse him Mayor, &c/ * Jesse's Memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 11. 161 ATTTnORIZED VEKSION OF BIBLE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. AUTHOKIZED VEESION OP BIBLE. In Boaiimont ami Fletcher's play of The Widow, is the follow iui:; passage : ' I'll love your door the better ^vhilo I know it. ' TI7(/oic.— A pair of siu-h brothers were fitter for posts without door, indeed io make a show at a tiew-choseii majiist rates gate, than to be used in a woman's chamber.' 1 \ U^' 1 i pi '^ i li ; 1 , ■■■ 1 1 j 1 [ i 'is }• i ' ' '! ■ j ■' ■ " ■ Ul.'p - j ! !"> ', .',!.;, ■^^^^^^^^^ MAVORAL DOOR-POSTS, NORWICH, 1592. Similar posts were erected at the sheriff's gate, and used for the display of proclamations. In Eowley's play of A Woman Never Vexed, 1632, a character says : ' If e'er I live to see thee sheriff of London, I'll fjild thy posts.^ A trace of this old custom is still to be found in Edinburgh, where it is a rule that a pair of gilded lamp-posts are always erected before the &oor of the Lord Provost. THE AUTHORIZED VERSION OF THE BIBLE. {Ordered in January, 1604.) The month of January is memorable as that of the celebrated Hampton Court Conference, held at the beginning of the reign of James I. in England (160-1), for the regulation of questions of religion, agitated by the violent opposition between the High Church party and the Puri- tans. Among other grievances brought forward on this occasion was the unsatisfactory state of the translations of the Bible then existing ; and one of the most important and lasting results was the formation of the Authorized translation of the Scriptures which still remains in use in this country, and which was ordered by King James soon after the Conference separated. The 162 history of the English versions of the Bible is a suliject of interest to everybody. There was no principle or doctrine in the Eoman Catholic religion opposed to the transla- tion of the Holy Scriptures. In fact, the Latin text of the Bible used by the Catholics, and known as the Vulgate, was itself only a transla- tion ; and it was translated into the languages of various countries without reluctance or hesitation. Among the Anglo-Saxons, Aldhelm is said to have translated the Psalms as early as the seventh century ; and an Anglo-Saxon transla- tion of the Psalms, partly in prose and partly in verse, is still preserved in the Impei'ial Library in Paris, and was printed at Oxford in 1835, under the editorial care of Mr Benjamin Thorpe. The Anglo-Saxon translation of the Gospels, which has been ascribed to the ninth century, has also been printed ; and a distinguished Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastic, Alfric, towards the close of the tenth century, translated into Anglo- Saxon a great part of the Old Testament, which is still preserved in manuscript. The whole of the Scriptures are supposed to have been trans- lated into Anglo-Norman, but detached portions only are preserved. An English harmony of the Gospels was compiled in verse in the beginning of the thirteenth century, by a man named Orm, who gave to it the title of Ormulum, after his own name. Several versions of the Psalms were also written in early English, but the first translation of the entire Bible into English was that which was completed in the course of the latter half of the fourteenth century, and which is known as WyclifFe's Bible, as being the work either of that reformer himself, or at least of his followers. There are two texts of this English version, differing considerably from each other — which are printed side by side in the edition in 3 vols. 4to edited by Forshall and Madden — and it must have been circulated very widely, from the great number of manuscript copies still in existence. Though the media3val churchmen did not object to the Scriptures being translated, they had a strong- objection to the communication of them to the vulgar. In this respect the publication of translations of the Bible before and after the invention of printing, presented totally different questions. A manviscript book was very expen- sive, could be multiplied but slowly, and could only be possessed by the wealthy. The transla- tions, therefore, to which we have alluded, were mostly, no doubt, made for ecclesiastics them- selves, for abbesses and nuns, or for pious ladies of rank. But the WyclifHtes openly professed that their object in translating the Scriptures was to communicate them to the people, and, even to the lowest orders, by reading them, and causing them to be read, in the vernacular tongue. The whole mass of the Romish clergy who were opposed to reform took the alarm, horrified at the idea of imparting religious knowledge to the people, whom they wished to keep in a con- dition of blind subjection to themselves, with which such knowledge was quite incompatible. The first attempt to proscribe the Wycliffite translation was made in parliament in 1390, and was defeated bv the influence of the Duke of ATJTHOEIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. JANUAEY 25. AUTHOEIZED VEKSION OF BIBLE. Lancaster, Jolin of Gauut. But in 1408, tlie clergy, under Arclibisliop Arundel, succeeded in their object : WyclifTe's and every other transla- tion of the Scriptures into English ■vrerc pro- hibited by an act of Convocation ; and all who were known or suspected to read them were subjected to bitter persecution, which con- tinued without intermission until the reign of Henry Vlll. The English Eeformers were quick at taking advantage of the new art of printing, and they soon entered into communication with their brethren on the Continent, where only they could find a free press. In the year 1526, an English translation of the New Testament was printed, it is said, at Antwerp, and copies were surreptitiously passed into England. This trans- lation, which is said to have been made direct from the Greek original, was the work of William Tyndal, a canon of the then new foundation of Christ Church, Oxford, who had been obliged to leave his native country on account of his re- ligious opinions, assisted by John Fry, or Fryth, and William Eoy, who were both put to death as heretics. It was the first printed translation of any part of the Scriptures in English. The chiefs of the Catholic party in England seem to have been much embarrassed with this book, and the}^ attempted to meet the difficulty by buying up all the copies and burning them; and thus created an artificial sale, which enabled Tyndal to bring out another and more correct edition. It was not till 1530, that Sir Thomas More, as Lord Chancellor, with the high ecclesiastics, issued a declaration against all English transla- tions of the Scriptures ; and that same year Tyndal printed his translation of the Pentateuch at Hamburg. He had now undertaken, with the assistance of another learned English Reformer, Miles Coverdale, a translation of the whole Bible ; but in the middle of his labours he was suddenly arrested and thrown into prison by order of the Emperor, and his opinions were punished with death in 1536, the year of the first act for the dissolution of the English monasteries. In the previous year, the great work on which he had laboured Avith so much zeal had been com- pleted. Miles Coverdale, who had been his assistant from the commencement, had continued the work alone after Tyndal's imprisonment; and this first English Bible was published in 1535, in a huge folio volume, believed from the character of the types to have been printed at Zurich, under the sole name of Coverdale. It was dedicated to King Henry VIII. of England. By this time the Eeformation had made such HENRY VIII. DELIVERING THE BIBLE TO CEANMER AND CROMWELL. (Being a portion of the Engraved Title of ' C7-anmer's Bible.') advances in England, that the King himself was induced to allow the Bible to he circulated in the language of the people ; and early in the year 1536 the English clergy were enjoined by royal authority to place a Latin Bible and an English Bible in the choir of every chui'ch, where it could be freely read by the people. The number of copies of Coverdale's Bible was insufficient to supply such a demand ; and a new English Bible was now ordered to be printed under the direc- tion of Cranmer, on whieli it is believed that Coverdale was the chief person employed. Leave was obtained from the King of France to print I this Bible in Paris, where the typographic art i was then carried to the greatest perfection, and the care of the printing was entrusted to Pichard Grafton and Edward Whitchurch ; but they were interrupted by the interference of the French clergy, who seized and burnt nearly the whole impression, and Grafton and Whitchurch were obliged to withdraw to London, where the printing was completed in the spring of 1539. This book was sometimes called Cranmer's Bible, and sometimes spoken of as the ' Great Bible.' It was to it that reference was made in the royal proclamation of the following year, which enjoined the curates and parishioners of every parish to provide tlicmselves with the 163 ArXHOKIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. AUTHORIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. 33iblo of the lari^est size, nndor a penalty of forty sluUin'--s a month as long as they remained with- out it: At the hitter end of Henry's reign, in consequence of a change in the religious policy ot the Court, a check was again put on the tree reading of the Scriptures, which was of course removed on the accession of J'^dward A I. The persecutions of Queen Mary s reign drove the English lieformers into exile, when a number of the more zealous of them assembled at Geneva, and, while there, employed themselves upon a new translation of the Scriptures, with annota- tions, to which was given a strong Calvinistic colouring, and which contained political notions of a democratic character. The New Testament was first published, and was completed in 1557 : the Old Testament followed in 1560. This is gene- rally known as the Geneva Eible, and. was in favour among the Puritan party and in Scotland. Elizabeth, at the beginning of her reign, deter- mined to have an English translation of the 13ible more in accordance with her views in religious matters; and she entrusted the direction of i't to Archbishop Parker, who distributed the work among a certain number of learned men. It was published in 1568, and, from the circum- stance that there was a considerable number of bishops among the translators, it is often spoken of as the Bishops' Bible. Such was the state of things at the time of the Hampton Court Conference. There were at least four different English translations of the Bible, which had gone through numerous editions, differing very much from each other, not only verbally, but very often in the interpreta- tion of "Holy Writ, and not one of which had any absolute authority over the other. Moreover, most of these older translations, in the Old Testament at least, had been made in a great measure from the Latin vulgate, the old Romanist version. It cannot be denied that one authorized and correct version of the Bible was greatly Avanted, and this seems to have been allowed by all parties. It appears, however, that the pro- posal originated with the Puritans, and that it was their speaker in the Conference, Dr. Reynolds, who brought the subject before the King. James had no partiality for any of the translations which then existed; he is understood to have disliked the Geneva Bible, partly on account of its rather CHAINED BIBLE IN CUMNOR CHURCH, LEICESTERSHIRE. low tone on his favourite ' kingcraft ;' it was a flattering idea that his reign in England should be inaugurated by a translation of the Scrip- tures from the original Hebrew. He, accord- ingly, embraced the proposal with eagerness, 161 and drew up with his own pen the rules for translating. In the course of the year 1604, James appointed a Commission of learned men selected from the two Universities and from Westminster, consisting at first of fifty-four ST POLYCAEP. JANUARY 2G. FEANCIS JEFFEEY. individuals, but reduced subsequently to forty- seven. To each of these a portion of the Scrip- tures was given to translate. They began their labours in the spring of 1007, and completed them in three years ; and tlien a select com- mittee was appointed, consisting of two from each University, and two from Westminster, who met at Stationers' Hall, iu London, to correct the work of the rest. The Bishop of Winches- ter (Bilsou) and Dr. Myles Smith finally revised the whole, and prefixed the arguments to the several books. It is supposed that Bancroft, Bishop of London, had the chief direction of the whole work. Thus was formed the Authorized Version of the Scriptures, which was published iu 1611, and has ever since been the only English translation acknowledged by the Anglican Church. For the time at which it was written, it is truly a very wonderful work ; but still it is acknowledged by modern scholars to be far from perfect. During the two centuries and a half since the time of James I., Ilebrew philology and the knowledge of biblical antiquities have made great advance ; and there can be no doubt that the Authorized translation of the Bible contains many errors and many mistranslations, which it would be very desirable to see corrected. Many men of great learning have therefore, from time to time, asked for a new translation, or at least a revision of the present Authorized Version. But others, while acknowledging its imperfections, hold that they are none of them of a character to interfere with the utility of the present version among the mass of the people, and they shrink from the prospect of disturbing their religious convictions and feelings, with which this version has been so long and so closely interwoven. A copy of the Authorized Version was, as before, placed in each parish church, that it might be accessible to all; and, usually, after the fashion of the old libraries, it was chained to the place. A sketch of such a Bible, yet surviv- ing in Cumnor Church, Leicestershire, is given in the preceding page. JANUARY 26. St Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, 166. St Paula, widow, 404. Sf, Conon, bishop of Man, about 648. ST POLYCARP. Polycarpus is the earliest of the Christian fathers. An unusual and peculiar interest at- taches to him, as one M'ho might have known, if he did not actually know, the evangelist John. At Smyrna, of which he was bishop, Polycarp suffered martyrdom by burning, in 167. Of his \yritings there remains but an epistle to the Phi- lippians, exhorting them to maintain the purity of the faith. ST CONON. Conon is a Scotch saint of the seventh century. He was for some years Bishop of Man or of tlie Southern Isles, and his name continued to be remembered with veneration in the Highlands till the Iveformation. ' Claw for claw,' as Conon said to Satan, 'and the devil take the shortest nails,' is a proverb of the Highlanders, appa- rently referring to some legend of an encounter between the holy man and the great sjiiritual enemy of our race. Bom.—Lord George Sackville, 1710; J. B. Berna- dotte, king of Sweden, 1764, Fan; Thomas Noon Tal- fourd, 1795. Aed— Henry Brigges, 1630, Oxford; Dr E. Jenner, 1823, Berkeley; Francis Jeffrey, 1850, Edinburffk ; Adam Gottlob Ochlenschlilger, Danish poet, 1850. FRANCIS JEFFREY. The first recognised editor of the Udinhurcjk Review was a man of small and slight figure, and of handsome countenance ; of fine conversational powers, and, what will surprise those who think of him only as the uncompromising critic, great goodness of heart and domestic amiability. In his latter years, when past the psalmist-appointed term of life, he grew more than ever tender of heart and amiable, praised nursery songs, patron- ised mediocrities, and wrote letters of almost childish gentleness of expression. It seemed to be the natural strain of his character let loose from some stern responsibility, which had made him sharp and critical through all his former life. His critical writings had a brilliant reputation In their day. He was too much a votary of the regular old rhetorical style of poetry to be capable of truly appreciating the Lake school, or almost any others of his own contemporaries. The greatest mistake he made was as to Wordsworth, whose Excursion he saluted [Edinhiirgh Review, November 1814) with an article beginning, ' This will never do ; ' a free and easy condemnation which, now contrasted with the reputation of Wordsworth, returns a fearful revenge upon the critic. Jeffrey, however, is not withoiit his companions in this kind of misfortune. Home, the author of Douglas, could not see the merit of Burns ; and Hitsou, while appreciating him as a poet generally, deemed his songs a failure. ' He does not,' says the savage Joseph, ' appear to his usual advantage in song: Tion omnia fossumus.^ It would be a curious task, and something like a fair revenge upon the sanguinary brotherhood of Critics, to run over their works, and select the unhappy cases in which, from prejudice or want of natural penetration, they have passed judg- ments and made prophecies which now appear ludicrously inappropriate. Some unlucky pro- nouncements by unprofessional hands may mean- while be noted. It was Waller who wrote of Paradise Lost on its first appearance : ' The old blind schoolmaster, John Milton, hath published a tedious poem on the fall of man ; if its length be not considered a merit, it has no other.' Walpole, led by political prejudice, on several occasions wrote disparagingly of SmoUett. Sum- j)lir}l Clinl-cr, which has ever been a favourite witii the British public, is passed over ignomi- niously by the lord of Strawberry Hill, as 'a party novel written by the profligate hireling Smollett.' 165 BISHOP LOW. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SEYENXn SONS. We llud a tolerably fair oftset to tlie sliort- coiuius^s of AVhiij Ecviow criticism, m the way in Avhich the poetry of lluut, Shelley, and Keats was treated in the early voluuies of the Qiiarferh/. In the noted article on the Endymion of Keats' (April 1818), which Byron speaks of in his couplet — ' 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Slioiild let itself be snuffed out by an article'— (which, however, was a mistake), the critic pro- fesses to have been utterly unable to read the poem, and adds : ' The author is a copyist of Mr Ilunt . . . more uuintelligible, almost as rugg-ed, twice as diffuse, and ten times more tiresome and absurd than his prototype.' BISHOP LOW. Died on the 26th January 1855, the Eight Eev. David Low, Bishop of Eoss and Argyll, in the episcopal communion of Scotland. The prin- cipal reason for noticing this prelate is the fact that he was the last surviving clergyman in Scotland, who had, in his official character, acted upon scruples in behalf of the house of Stuart. At the time of the excellent bishop's entrance to the Church, in 1787— when he was ordained a deacon— the body to which he belonged omitted the prayer for the king and royal familj-- from their service, being \inostentatiously but firmly attached to the fortunes of the family which forfeited the British crown nearly a hundred years before ; and it was not till after the death of the xmfortuuate Charles Edward, in January 1788, that they at length (not without some diffi- culty) agreed to pray for King George. An obituary notice of Bishop Low speaks of him as follows : ' His appearance was striking — tall, attenuated, but active — his eye sparkling with intelligence, his whole look that of a vene- rable French ahhe of the old regime. His mind was eminently buoyant and youthful, and his memory was a fount of the most interesting historical information, especially in connection with the Cavalier or Jacobite party, to which he belonged by early association and strong religious and political predilection. Born in a district (at that lime) devoted to the cause of the Stuarts, almost under the shadow of Edzell Castle, the ancient stronghold of the Lindsays in Forfarshire, and having lived much from time to time in his early years in the West Highlands, among the Stuarts of Ballachulish andAppin, he had enjoyed familiar intercourse with the veterans of 1715 and 1745, and he detailed the minutest events and adven- tures of those times with a freshness and a graphic force which afforded infinite delight to his younger auditors. His traditional knowledge extended even to the wars of Claverhouse and Montrose.' Those who know of bishops and their style of living only from the examples afforded by the English Protestant Church, will hear with sui-- prise and incredulity of what we have to tell regarding Bishop Low. This venerable man, who had never been married, dwelt in a room of the old priory of Pittenweem, on the coast of Fife, where he ministered to a congregation for which a good dining-room would have furnished 166 tolerably ample accommodation. He probably never had an income above a hundred a year in his life ; yet of even this he spent so little, that he was able at the last to bequeath about eight thousand pounds for purposes connected with his communion. A salt herring and three or four potatoes often formed the home dinner of the Bishop of Eoss and Argyll. Even in Scotland, chiefly from the introduc- tion of English clergymen of fortune into the episcopate, a bishop is beginning to be, typically, a tolerably well-off and comfortable-looking personage. It therefore becomes curious to re- call what he, typically, was not many years ago. The writer has a perfect recollection of a visit he paid, in the year 1826, to the venerable Dr Jolly, Bishop of Moray, who was esteemed as a man of learning, as well as a most devoted officer of his church. He found the amiable prelate living at the fishing town of Fraserburgh, at the north-east corner of Aberdeenshire, where he officiated to a small congregation. The bishop, having had a little time to prepare himself for a visitor, was, by the time the writer made his call, dressed in his best suit and his Sunday wig. In a plain two-story house, such as is common in Scotch towns, having a narrow wooden stair ascending to the upper floor, which was composed of two eoomceiled apartments, a but and a hen, and in one of these rooms, the beautiful old man — for he ^vas beautiful — sat, in his neat old- fashioned black suit, buckled shoes, and wig as white as snow, surrounded entirely by shelves full of books, most of them of an antique and theo- logical cast. Irenfcus or Polycarp could not have lived in a style more simple. The look of the venerable prelate was fuU of gentleness, as if he had never had an enemy, or a difficulty, or anything else to contend with, in his life. His voice was low and sweet, and his conversation most genial and kindly, as towards the young and unimportant person whom he had admitted to his presence. The whole scene was a his- torical picture which the writer can never forget, or ever reflect on without pleasure. Bishop Jolly lived in a style nearly as primitive as IBishop Low ; but the savings which consequently arose from his scanty income were devoted in a different way. His passion apart from the church was for'books, of which he had gathered a wonderful quantity, including many that were of considerable value for their rarity. The series of non-jurant English bishops, which began with those who refused to acknowledge William and Mary, including Sancroft, Arch- bishop of Canterbury, came to an end with the Eev. Mr Gordon, who died on the 19th of No- vember 1779. There was, however, a succession of separatists, beginning with one bishop, and which did not terminate till 1805.* SEVENTH SONS AND THEIR SEVENTH SONS. There has been a strong favoiir for the nimiber Seven, from a remote period in the world's his- tory. It is, of course, easy to see in what way the Mosaic narrative gave sanctity to this number in connection with the days of the week, and led * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., xi. 273. SEVENTH SONS. JANUAEY 2G. SEVENTH SONS. to usapjes wliicli influence the social life of all the countries of Europe. But a sort of mystical goodness or power has attached itself to the number in many other ways. Seven wise men, seven champions of Christendom, seven sleepers, seven-league boots, seven churches, seven ages of man, seven hills, seven senses, seven planets, seven metals, seven sisters, seven stars, seven wonders of the world, — all have had their day of favour ; albeit that the number has been awkwardly interfered with by modern discoveries concerning metals, planets, stars, and wonders of the world. Added to the above list is the group of Seven Sons, especially in relation to the youngest or seventh of the seven ; and more especially still if this person happen to be the seventh son of a seventh son. It is now, perhaps, impossible to discover in what country, or at what time, the notion originated ; but a notion there certainly is, chiefly in provincial districts, that a seventh son has something peculiar about him. For the most pai*t, the imputed peculiarity is a healing power, a faculty of curing diseases by the touch, or by some other means. The instances of this belief are numerous enough. There is a rare pamphlet called the Quack Doctor's Speech, published in the time of Charles II. The reckless Earl of Rochester delivered this speech on one occasion, when dressed in character, and mounted on a stage as a charlatan. The speech, amid much that suited that licentious age, but would be frowned down by modern society, contained an enumeration of the doctor's wonderful qualities, among which was that of being a ' seventh son of a seventh son,' and therefore clever as a curer of bodily ills. The matter is only mentioned as affording a sort of proof of the existence of a certain popular belief. In Cornwall, the peasants and the miners entertain this notion ; they believe that a seventh son can cure the king's evil by the touch. The mode of proceeding usually is to stroke the part affected thrice gently, to blow upon it thrice, to repeat a form of words, and to give a perforated coin or some other object to be worn as an amulet. At Bristol, about forty years ago, there was a man who was always called ' Doctor,' simply because he was the seventh son of a seventh son. The family of the Joneses of Muddfi, in Wales, is said to have presented seven sons to each of many successive generations, of whom the seventh son always became a doctor — apparently from a conviction that he had an inherited qualification to start with. In Ireland, the seventh son of a seventh son is believed to possess prophetical as weU as healing power. A few years ago, a Dublin shopkeeper, finding his errand-boy to be generally very dilatory in his duties, inquired into the cause, and found that, the boy being a seventh son of a seventh son, his sei'vices were often in retiuisition among the poorer neighbours, in a way tliat brought in a good many pieces of silver. Early in the present century, there was a man in Hampshire, the seventh son of a seventh son, who was consulted by the villagers as a doctor, and who carried about with him a collection of crutches and sticks, purporting to have once belonged to persons whom he had cured of lame- ness. Cases are not wanting, also, in which the seventh daughter is placed upon a similar pin- nacle of greatness. In Scotland, the spae wife, or fortune-teller, frequently announces herself as the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, to enhance her claims to prophetic power. Even so late as 1851, an inscription was seen on a window in Plymouth, denoting that a certain doctress was ' the third seventh daughter,' — which the world was probably intended to interpret as the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Sometimes this belief is mixed up with curious family legends. The Winchester Observer, a few years ago, gave an account of the ' Tichborne Dole,' associated with one of the very oldest Hampshire families. The legend tells that, at some remote period, a Lady Mabella, on her death-bed, besought her lord, the Tichborne of those days, to supply her with the means for bequeathing a gift or dole of bread to any one who should apply for it annually on the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. Sir Roger promised her the proceeds of as much land as she could go over while a brand or billet of a certain size was burning : she was nearly bedridden, and nearly dying ; and her avaricious lord believed that he had imposed conditions which would place within very narrow limits the area of land to be alienated. But he was mis- taken. A miraculous degree of strength was given to her. She was carried by her attendants into a field, where she crawled round many goodly acres. A field of twenty-three acres, at Tich- borne, to this day, bears the name of the Crawl. The lady, just before her death, solemnly warned her family against any departure from the terms of the dole ; she predicted that the family name would become extinct, and the fortunes im- poverished, if the dole were ever withdrawn. The Tichborne dole, thus established, was re- garded as the occasion of an annual festival during many generations. It was usual to bake fourteen hundred loaves for the dole, of twenty- six ounces each, and to give twopence to any applicant in excess of the number that could be then served. This custom was continued till about the middle of the last century ; when, under pretence of attending Tichborne Dole, vaga- bonds, gipsies, and idlers of every description, assembled from all quarters, pilfering tkroughout the neighbourhood ; and at last, in 1790, on account of the complaints of the magistrates and gentry, it was discontinued. This gave great offence to many who had been accustomed to receive the dole. And now arose a revival of old traditions. The good Lady Mabella, as the legend told, had predicted that, if the dole should be withheld, the mansion would crumble to ruins ; that the family name would become ex- tinct through the failure of male heirs ; and that this failure would be occasioned by a generation of seven sons being followed by a generation of seven daughters. Singularly enough, the old house i^artially fell down in 1803 ; the baronet of that day had seven sons ; tlie eldest of these had seven daughters ; and the owner of the family estates became a Doughty instead of a Tichborne If this story be correctly told, it is certainly a 167 SEVENTH SONS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DE ANDBEW BELL. very tcmptinjx one for those -nlio liave a leaning towards the umuber seven. Franee. as well as our own country, has a belief in the Seventh Son mystery. The Journal de Loiirt. a French provincial newspaper, m 1851 stated that, in Orleans, if a tamily has seven sous and no daui^hter. the seventh is called a ATarrou, is branded with a Jleiir-de-lis, and is believed to possess the power of curing the king's evil. The Marcou breathes on tlio part aflected, or else the patient touches the Marcou.'sJlcur-Je-lis. In the vear above-named, there was a famous Marcou " in Orleans named Foulon ; he was a cooper by trade, and was known as ' le beau Miuvou.' Simple peasants used to come to visit him from many leagues in all directions, particu- liu'ly in Passion week, when his ministrations were believed to be most eOicacious. On the night of Good Friday, from midnight to sunrise, the chance of cure was supposed to be especially good, and on this account four or five hundred persons M'ould assemble. Great disturbances hence arose ; and as there was evidence, to all except the silly dupes themselves, that Foulon made use of their superstition to enrich himself, the police succeeded, but not without much opposition, in preventing these assemblages. In some of the States of Germany there used formerly to be a custom for the reigning prince to stand sponsor to a seventh son (no daughter intervening) of any of his subjects. Whether still acted upon is doubtful ; but there was an incident lately which bore on the old custom in a curious way. A West Hartlepool newspaper stated that Mr J. V. Curths, a German, residing in that busy colliery town, became, toward the close of 1857, the father of one of those prodigies — a seventh son. Probably he himself was a Saxe Gothan by birth ; at any rate he wrote to the Prince Consort, reminding him of the old German custom, and soliciting the honour of his Eoyal Highness's sponsorship to the child. The Prince was doubtless a little puzzled by this appeal, as he often must have been by the strange applications made to him. Nevertheless, a reply was sent in the Prince's name, very compli- mentarj' to his countryman, and enclosing a substantial souvenir for the little child ; but the newspaper paragraph is not sufhcieutly clear for us to be certain whether the sponsorship really was assented to, and, if so, how it was performed. Tliree Wonderful Things. — Sir James Stewart, of Colt- ness, was accustomed to say, that after ha\'ing lived fifty years, and gone through almost all the geographical and literary world, three things only had surmounted his most sanguine expectations — The Amphitheatre at Verona, the Cluirch of St Peter's at Eome, and Mr Pitt in the House of Commons. Smokinr) Avas fomierly forbidden among school- masters. In the rules of the school at Chigwell, founded in 1629, it was declared that 'the master must be a man of sound rehgion, neither Papist nor Puritan, of a grave behaviour, and sober and honest conversa- tion, no tippler or haunter of alehouses, and no piiffer of tobacco.' ' To Ike good.'— We find this homely phrase in the speech of Charles I. to the House of Commons on ' The Arrest of the Five Members,' as follows : 'Whatso- ever I have done in favour and to the mod' &c. 168 JANUARY 27. St Julian, bishop, 3id century. St John Chrysostom, archbishop, 407. St Marius, abbot, 555. ST JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. St John Chrijsostomus is one of the most cele- brated o f the fathers of the Eastern or Greek church. He was born about the year 317, at Antioch. His father was commander of the Imperial army in Syria. He M'as educated for the bar, but became a convert to Christianity ; and the solitary manner of living being then in great estimation, and very prevalent in Syria, he retired to a mountain not far from Antioch, where he lived some years in solitude, practising the usual austerities. He returned to the city in 381, and was ordained by Meletius, Bishop of Antioch, to the office of deacon, and to that of presbyter in 38(3. He became one of the most popular preachers of the age ; his reputation extended throughout the Christian world ; and in 398, on the death of Nectarius, he was elected Bishop of Constanti- nople. He was zealous and resolute in the reform of clerical abuses, and two years after his consecration, on his visitation in Asia Minor, he deposed no less than thirteen bishops of Lydia and Phrygia. His denunciations of the licentious manners of the court drew upon him the resent- ment of the Empress Eudoxia, who encouraged Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, to summon a synod at Chalcedon, in which a number of accu- sations were brought against Chrysostom. He was condemned, deposed, and banished to Cucu- sus, a place in the mountain-range of Taurus, whence, after the death of the Empress, it was determined to remove him to a desert place on the Euxine. He travelled on foot, and caught a fever, which occasioned his death at Comana, in Pontus, September 14, 407, at the age of sixty. The works of Chrysostom are very numerous, consisting of 700 homilies and 242 epistles, as well as commentaries, orations, and treatises on points of doctrine. His life has been written by Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, and other early writers, and by Neander in more recent times. The name Chrysostomus, or golden-mouthed, on account of his eloquence, was not given to him till some years after his death. Socrates and the other early writers simply call him John, or John of Constantinople. 5o?-B.—Dr Thomas Willis, 1622, Bodmin; J, C. "VV. Mozart, 1756. ZijeJ.— Sir William Temple, 1699; Thomas Woolston, 1733, King's Bench Prison; Admiral Lord Hood, 1816; Dr C. Hutton, mathematiciaD, 1823; Kev. Dr Andrew Bell, originator of the Madras System of Juvenile Educa- tion, 1832 ; John James Audubon, naturalist, 1851, New York, DR ANDREW BELL. Dr Andrew Bell, being a holder of rich livings, was able, by the aid of very frugal or rather penurious habits, to realise a large fortune, all of which he devoted at his death to exemplify and perpetuate that system of juvenile education, the introduction of which, first in Madras and afterwards in England, had given him celebrity, DK ANDREW BELL. JANUAEY 27. ROBEET BUKTON. but of wliicli, it need scarcely be remarked, the merits are now found to have been largely over- estimated. It is sad to reflect that, among the founders of useful institutions, several, if not many, or the greatest number, have been wretched egotists, or noted in life rather for the unfa- vourable aspect they bore towards their fellow- creatures, than for anything of a benevolent or genial cast. Thus Guy, the bookseller, whose money established the medical hospital bearing his name, is alleged to have made it chiefly by purchasing seamen's tickets, and a not very credit- able success in the affair of the South Sea bubble. Of George Watson, founder of an hospital for the nurture of boys in Edinburgh, the papers preserved in his caliinet shew how penuriously he lived, and how rigorous beyond measure he was as a creditor. James Donaldson, who left a quarter of a million for a similar purpose, over- looked in his will all his old servants and retainers, and assigned but one or two poor annuities to those nearest him in blood. There are, of course, many instances in which benevolent intentions have solely or mainly ruled ; but, cer- tainly, many have been of the opposite complexion here indicated. Among such must be reckoned Andrew Bell, who left £120,000 Three per Cent. Consols, to found an extensive establishment for juvenile education in his native city of St Andrews. The egotism of this old gentleman, as indicated in his ordinaiy conversation, and in his leaving a considerable sum for the composition and publication of a memoir to glorify him, allow no room to doubt that, in the hoarding of money, and in the final disposal of what he acquired, he had purely an eye to himself. Thomas De Quincey tells some things of a domestic nature regarding Dr Bell, which, in the case of any reasonably respectable man, one would not desire to see repeated, but which, re- garding him, do not call for being put under any restriction. ' Most men,' says the Opium-eater, ' have their enemies and calumniators ; Dr Bell had his, who happened rather indecorouslj'' to be his wife, from whom he was legally separated . . . divorced a mensd et thoro. This legal separation did not prevent the lady from persecuting the unhappy doctor with everlasting letters, endorsed outside with records of her enmity and spite. Sometimes she addressed her epistles thus: " To that supreme of rogues, who looks the hang-dog that he is, Doctor (such a doctor !) Andrew Bell." Or again : " To the ape of apes, and the knave of knaves, who is recorded to have once paid a debt — but a small one, you may be sure, it was that he selected for tliis wonderful ex])eriment — in fact, it was 4|d. Had it been on the other side of 6d., he must have died before he could have achieved so dreadful a sacrifice." Many others, most in- geniously varied in the style of abuse, I have heard rehearsed by Coleridge, Southey, Lloyd, &c. ; and one, in particular, addressed to the doctor, when spending a summer at the cottage of llobert Newton, an old soldier, in Grasmere, presented on the back two separate adjurations, one specially addressed to llobert himself, patheti- cally urging him to look sharply after the rent of his lodgings ; and the other more generally addressed to the unfortunate person as yet undisclosed to the British public (and in this case turning out to be myself), who might be incautious enough to pay the postage at Arable- side. " Don't grant him an hour's credit," she urged upon the person unknown, " if I had any regard to my family." "Cash doion !" she wrote twice over. Why the doctor submitted to these annoyances, nobody knew. Some said it was mere indolence ; but others held it to be a cunning compromise with her inexorable malice. The letters were certainly open to the " public " eye ; but meantime the " public " was a very narrow one : the clerks in the post-office had little time for digesting such amenities of con- jugal affection ; and the chance bearer of the letters to the doctor would naturally solve the mystery by supposing an extra portion of mad- ness in the writer, rather than an extra portion of knavery in the reverend receiver.' ROBERT BURTON. On the 27 th January 1639, there was interred in Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, one of the most singular men of genius that England has at any time produced, — the famous E-obert Burton, author of the Anatomy of Melancholi/. Though occupying a clerical charge in his native county of Leicester, he lived chiefly in his rooms in Christ Church College, and thus became a subject of notice to Anthony Wood, who, in his AthencB Oxonienses, thus speaks of him : ' He was an exact mathematician, a curious calculator of nativities, a general-read scho- lar, a thorough - paced philologist, and one that understood the surveying of lands well. As he was by many accounted a severe stu- dent, a devourer of authors, a melancholy and humorous person, so, by others who knew him well, a person of great honesty, plain- dealing, and charity. I have heard some of the ancients of Christ Church say, that his com- pany was very merry, facete, and juvenile; and no man in his time did surpass him for his ready and dexterous interlarding his common discourse among them with verses from the poets, or sen- tences from classical authors, which, being then all the fashion in the University, made his com- j)any more acceptable.' The Anatomy of Melancholy was the only work which Burton produced. After the 8th edition (1676), the book seems to have fallen into neglect, till Dr Johnson's remark, that it was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise, again directed attention to it. Dr Ferrier has shewn that Sterne was largely indebted to it, and other authors have been poachers on the same preserve. The work contains a vast number of quotations, nearly all Latin, combined with his own reflec- tions on the large mass of historical and other materials which he has collected. His humour is quaint and peculiar. His melancholy resembles that of Jacques in As you Like it. The fine stanzas prefixed to his book, beginning — 'When I goe musing all alone,' — exhibit the meaning Avhich Burton attaches to 169 ROBERT BURTON. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EAULY NOTICES OF COFFEE, the word, Avliich seems to bo, not depression of sinrits, but rather a habit of rumination, during which the feelings are cheerful or sad according to the succession of thoughts which pass through the iniud. These lines are thought to have suggested to Milton many ideas in liis II Penseroso : 'Wlicn I goo musing all alone, Tluuking of divers "things fore-known, Wlien I would build castles in the air, Void of sorrow and void of fear, rioasiui:; myself with i>hantasins sweet, Mothiiiks the time runs very fleet : All my joys to this are folly. Nought so sweet as JMelancholy. 'When I goe walking all alone, llecouutuig what I have ill done, ]My thoughts on me then tyrannise, Fear and sorrow me surprise; Whether I tarry still or go, Metliinks the time moves very slow : All my griefs to this are jolly, Nought so sad as JMelancholy. 'When to my selfc I act and smile. With pleasing thoughts the time beguile. By a brookside or wood so green. Unheard, imsought for, or imseen, A thousand pleasures doe me bless, And crown my soid with happiness. All my joyes besides are folly, None so sweet as Melancholy. 'AMien I lie, sit, or walk alone, I sigh, I grieve, making great mone. In a dark grove, or irksome den, With discontents and furies then, A thousand miseries at once Mine hea\'y heart and soul ensconce. All my giiefs to this are jolly, None so sour as Melancholy.' MOUCMENT OF BURTON IN CHRISTCHURCH. 170 An edition of the work was published in 1849, in 8vo, with notes, in which the quotations are translated, explained, and referred to the respec- tive works from wliich they have been derived. Burton died at or very near the time which he had some years before foretold from the calcula- tions of his own nativity, and which, says Wood, ' being exact, several of the students did notforbear to whisper among themselves, that rather than there should be a mistake in the calculation, he sent up his soul to heaven through a slip about his neck.' We have no other evidence of the truth of this than an obscure hint in the epitaph on his tomb, which was written by the author himself, a short time before his death. Over his grave, against the upper pillar of the aisle, was raised a monument, with the bust of Burton, painted to the life ; and on the right-hand, is the calculation of his nativity ; and under the bust is the epitaph : ' Panels notus, paucioribus igiiotiis, Hie jacet Democntus junior, Cm vitam dedit et mortem Melanchoha. Ob. 8, Id. Jan. A.C. MD. XXXIX.' EARLY NOTICES OF COFFEE IN ENGLAND, FROM BROADSIDES IN THE LTJTTREL COLLECTION. A manuscript note, written by Oldys, the cele- brated antiquary, states that ' The use of coffee in England was first known in 1657. Mr Edwards, a Turkey merchant, brought from Smyrna to London one Pasqua Eosee, a Ragusan youth, who prepared this drink for him every morning. But the "novelty thereof drawing too much company to him, he allowed his said servant, with another of his son-in-law, to sell it publicly, and they set up the first coifee-house in London, in StMichael's alley in Cornhiil. The sign was Pasqua E,osee's own head.' Oldys is slightly in error here ; Bosee commenced his coiTee-house in 1652, and one Jacobs, a Jew, had established a similar un- dertaking at Oxford, a year or two earlier. One of Eosee's original shop or hand-bills, the only mode of advertising in those days, is now before us ; and considering it to be a remarkable record of a great social innovation, we here reprint it for the amusement of the reader : THE VERTtJE OF THE COFFEE DRINK, First made and pubUcJdy sold in England ly Pasqua Rosee. The grain or berry called coffee, growcth upon little trees only in the deserts of Arabia. It is brought from thence, and drunk generally throughout all the Grand Seignom-'s dominions. It is a simple, innocent thing, comiiosed into a drink, by being dried in an oven, and ground to powder, and boiled up with spring water, and about half a pint of it to be drunk fasting an hour before, and not eating an hour after, and to be taken as hot as possibly can be endured ; the which will never fetch the skin off the mouth, or raise any bhsters by reason of that heat. The Turks' drink at meals and other times is usually water, and their diet consists much of fruit ; the crudities whereof are very much corrected by this diiuk. The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and EAELT NOTICES OF COFFEE. JANUAEY 27. EAKLT NOTICES OF COlJ'FEE. though it be a di-ier, yet it neither heats, nor inflames more than hot posset. It so incloseth the orifice of the stomach, and fortifies the heat within, that it is very good to help digestion ; and therefore of gi-eat use to be taken about three or four o'clock afternoon, as well as in the morning. It much quickens the spirits, and makes the heart lightsome; it is good against sore eyes, and the better if you hold your head over it and take in the steam that way. It suppresseth fumes exceedingly, and therefore is good against the head-ache, and will very much stop any defluxion of rheimis, that distil from the head upon the stomach, and so prevent and help consumptions and the cough of the limgs. It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout, and scurvj'. It is known by experience to be better than any other drying drink for people in years, or children that have any running humours upon them, as the king's evil, &c. It is a most excellent remedy against the spleen, hjqiochondi-iac winds, and the like. It will prevent drowsiness, and make one fit for busi- ness, if one have occasion to watch, and therefore you are not to drink of it after supper, unless you intend to be watchful, for it wiU hinder sleep for three or four hours. It is observed that iu Turkey, where this is gene- rally drunk, that they are not troubled -with the stone, gout, dropsy, or scm'\y, and that their skins are ex- ceeding clear and white. It is neither laxative nor restringent. Made and sold in St MicliaeVs- alley in Cornhill, hij Pasqua Jioaee, at the sign of his own head. The new beverage, as may readily be supposed, bad its opponents, as M'ell as its advocates. The following extracts from A Broadside against Coffee, publisbed about the same period, informs us tbat Eosee's partner, tbe servant of Mr Edwards's son-in-law, was a coacbman; wbile it controverts tbe statement tbat bot coffee will not burn tbe moutb, and ridicules tbe broken Englisb of tbe Kagusan : A BROADSIDE AGAIN.ST COFFEE. A coachman was the first (here) coffee made. And ever since the rest drive on the trade : ' Me no good Engalash ! ' and sm-e enoiigh. He played the quack to salve his Stygian stuff ; '■Ver boon for de stomach, de cough, cle phthisick,' And I beheve him, for it looks like physic. Coffee a crust is chan-ed into a coal. The smeU and taste of the mock china bowl ; Where huff and puff, they labour out their lungs, Lest, Dives-bke, they should bewad then- tongues. And yet they tell ye that it will not burn, Though on the jury blisters you return ; Whose furious heat does make the waters rise, And still through the alembics of your eyes. Dread and desire, you fall to 't snap by snap. As hungiy dogs do scalding porridge lap. But to cure dmnkards it has got great fame ; Posset or porridge, will 't not do the same 1 Confusion hurries all into one scene. Like Noah's ark, the clean and the vm clean. And now, alas ! the drench has credit got. And he 's no gentleman that drinks it not ; That such a dwarf should rise to such a stature ! But custom is but a remove frona Nature. A little dish and a large coffee-house. What is it but a mountain and a mouse ? But, in spite of opposition, coffee soon became a favourite drink, and tbe sbops, wberc it was sold, places of general resort. One of tbe most noted was at tbe Sultan Morat or Amuratb's bead in Excbange-alley ; another was ' Ward's ' in Bread-street, at tbe sign of tbe Sultan Solyman's bead. Tokens, to serve as small money, were issued by botb of these estab- lisbments, and are bere represented. Anotber of tbe earliest bouses was tbe Eainbow, near Temple- bar, wbicb still flourisbes, but altogether in a new style. There can be Httle doubt tbat tbe coffee- bouse, as a substitute for tbe beerseller's fire-side, was a movement towards refinement, as well as temperance. There appears to bave been a great anxiety tbat tbe coffee-bouse, wbile open to all ranks, should be conducted under sucb restraints as might prevent tbe better class of customers from being offended. Accordingly, tbe following regulations, printed on large sheets of paper, were bxmg up in conspicuous positions on tbe walls : THE KULES AND ORDERS OF THE COFFEE-HOUSE. Enter, sirs, freely, hut first, if you please. Peruse our civil orders, tchich are these. First, gentry, tradesmen, all are welcome hither. And may without affront sit down together : Pre-eminence of place none here shoiild mind. But take the next fit seat that he can find : Nor need any, if finer persons come. Rise up for to assign to them his room ; To limit men's expense, we think not fair. But let hun forfeit twelve-pence that shall swear : He that shall any quarrel here begin. Shall give each man a tlish t' atone the sin ; And so shall he, whoso compliments extend So far to drink in coffee to liis friend ; Let noise of loud disputes be quite forborne. Nor maudlin lovers here in corners mourn. But all be brisk, and talk, but not too much ; On sacred things, let none presume to touch, Nor profane Scripture, nor saucily wrong Affairs of State with an irreverent tongue : Let mirth be innocent, and each man see That all his iests without reflection be ; 171 EABLT NOTICES OF COFFEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EARLY NOTICES OF COFFEE. To keep the house more quiet .and from blame, We banish hence carils, dice, and every game ; Nor can allow of wagers, that exceed Five shillintjs, which ofttinies do troubles breed; Let .all th.at'^'s lost or forfeited be spent In such good liquor as the house doth vent. And customers endeavour, to their powers, For to observe still, seasou.able hours. Lastly, let each man wh.at he calls for p.ay, And so you 're welcome to come every day. The above rules are ornamented, with an enjrraved representation of a coflec-house. Five persons, one of them smoking, and, evidently, Irom their dresses of different ranks in life, are seated at a table, on whicL. are small basins, with- out saucers, and tobacco pipes, while a waiter is engaged in serving coffee. Believing that the public will feel some interest in the seventeenth century coffee-house — the resort of Dryden, Wycherley, and the wits and poets generally — we have caused a transcript of this print to be here presented. Immediately after their first establishment, the coffee-houses became the resort of quidnuncs, and the great marts for news of all kinds, true and false. A broadside song, published in 1667, thus describes tlie principal subjects of coffee- house conversation : C'OFFEE-HOUliE, TEMP. CHARLES II. news from the coffee-house, or the newsmongers' hall. You that delight iu wit and mirth, And long to hear such news As come from all parts of the earth, Dutch, Danes, and Turks, and Jews, I'll send you to a rendezvous, Where it is smoking new ; Go he.ar it at a coffee-house, It cannot but be true. There battles and sea-fights are fought. And bloody plots displayed ; They know more things than ere was thought. Or ever was betrayed : No money in the IMinting-house Is half so bright and new ; And, coming from the coffee-house, It cannot but be true. Before the navies fall to work. They know who shall be winner ; They there can tell you what the Tiu-k Last Sunday had to dinner ; Who last did cut De Euyter's corns, Amongst his jovial crew ; Or who first gave the devil horns, ^\^lich cannot but be true. * • * * Another swears by both his ears, Monsieur will cut our throats ; The French king will a girdle bring, _ Made of flat-bottomed boats. Shall compass England round about, Which must not be a few. To give our Englishmen the rout ; This sounds as if 'twere true. 172 There 's nothing done in all the world, From monarch to the mouse. But every day or night 'tis hurled Into the coffee-house. What Lily, or what Booker can By art not bring about. At coffee-house you'll find a man Can quickly find it out. They'll tell you there what lady- ware Of late is gi'own too light ; What wise man shall from favom- fall, What fool shall be a knight ; They'll tell you when our failing trade Shall rise again and flourish, Or when Jack Adams shall be made Churchwarden of the parish. « * * * They know all that is good or hurt, To bless ye, or to save ye ; There is the college, and the court, The country, camp, and navy ; So great a university, I think there ne'er was any, In which you may a scholar be For spending of a penny. A merchant's prentice there shall show Yon all and everything What hath been done, and is to do, 'Twixt Holland and the King ; What articles of pe.ace will be He can precisely shew ; What will be good for them or we' He perfectly doth know. OEIGIN OF SOME WELL-KNOWN LINES. JANUARY 28. The drinking there of chocolate Can make a fool a Sophy ; 'Tis thou(j;ht the Turkish Mahomet Was first insitired with coffee, By which his powers did overflow The laud of Palestine ; Then let us to the coffee-house go, 'Tis cheaper far than wine. You shall know there what fashions are, How 2)eriwigs are curled ; And for a penny you shall hear All novells in the world. Both old and yoimg, and great and small, And rich and poor, you'll see ; Therefore let 's to the coffee all, Come all away with me. In 1675 a proclamation was issued for sliutting up and suppressing all coflee-Louses. The govern- ment of the day, however, found that, in making this proclamation, they had gone a step too far. So early as this period, the coffee-house had become a power in the land — as JNIacaulay tells us — a most important political institution, when public meetings, harangues, resolutions, and the rest of the machinery of agitation, had not come into fashion, and nothing resembling a newspaper existed. In such circumstances, the coffee-houses were the chief organs through which the public opinion of the metropolis vented itself. Con- sequently, on a petition of the merchants and retailers of coffee, permission was granted to keep the coffee-houses open for six months, under an admonition that the masters of them should prevent aU scandalous papers, books, and libels from being read in them ; and hinder every person from declaring, uttering, or divulging all manner of false and scandalous reports against government, or the ministers thereof. The absur- dity of constituting every maker of a cup of coffee a censor of the press, was too great for even those days ; the proclamation was laughed at, and no more was heard of the suppression of coffee-houses. Their subsequent history does not fall within our present limits, but may be referred to at another opportunity. THE ORIGTN OF SOME "SVELL-KNOWN LIXES. ' His angle-rod made of a stmxly oak ; His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke ; His hook he baited ^^•ith a dragon's tail, And sat upon a rock, and bobbed for whale.' The origin of these somewhat famous lines seems not to be generally known. In our contemporary Notes and Queries (for November 30, 1861, j). 448) they are spoken of as 'Dr King's well-known quatrain uj)on A Giant AnrjUng.' This is a mistake ; at least, if Dr William King, the Oxford wit and poet, is the person meant ; indeed, there seems every reason to suppose that they were composed before Dr King was born. With one or two trifling variations, they are to be found in the Mock Romance, a rhapsody attached to The Loves of Hero and Leander, a small 12mo published in London in the years 1653 and 1677 ; the foUomng being the context : ' This day (a day as fair as heart could wish) This giant stood on shore of sea to fish : For angling-rod, he took a sturdy oak ; For line a cable, that in storm ne'er broke ; His hook was such as heads the end of pole. To pluck down house ere fire consumes it whole : His hook was baited ivith a dragon's tail, A ml then on rock he stood to bob for whale : Which straight he caught, and nimbly home did pack, With ten cart-load of dinner on his back.' Dr King, however, is not the only unsuccessful claimant of the above four hnes. They are printed in the lifth volume of Dryden's Miscellany, and have been attributed to Daniel Kem-ick, a quack physician, at Worcester. As, however, Kenrick was thirty-two years of age in 1685, it is as impossible that they can have been written by him as by Dr King. Their true origin we have given above ; their authorship is, and probably always will be, unknown. JANUARY 28. St Agnes, virgin and martyr. St Cyril, patriarch of Alexandria, 444. Sts Thyrsus, Leucius, and Callin- icus, martyrs. St John of Keomay, abbot, 6th century. St Paulinu?, patriarch of Aquileia, 804. B. Charlemagne, emperor, 814. St Glastian, of Scotland, 830. St Mar- garet, princess of Hungary, 1271. ST CYKIL. St CyriUus was educated at Alexandria, where his uncle Theophilus was patriarch, through whose influence St John Chrysostom was deposed and banished from Constantinople. On the death of Theophdus in 412, St CyriUus was elected as his successor in the patriarchate. He is generally described as a man of revengeful disposition, and a violent persecutor of those whom he considered heretics. The story of the murder of Hypatia, the daughter of the mathematician Theon of Alexandria, has been related by Socrates, Nice- phorus, and other ecclesiastical historians. Hypatia was a lady of such extraordinary ability and learning as to have been chosen to preside over the school of Platonic philosophy in Alexan- dria, and her lectures were attended by a crowd of students from Greece and Asia Minor. She was also greatly esteemed and treated with much re- spect by Orestes, the governor of Alexandria, who was a decided opponent of the patriarch. Hence the malice of Cyril, who is related to have excited a mob of fanatical monks to assault her in the street, who dragged her into a church, and there murdered her,' actually tearing her body to pieces. - Cyril had a long and violent dispute with Nes- torius, bishop of Constantinople, concerning the divine nature of Christ, and whether Mary was entitled to the appellation of 'Mother of God,' and other mysterious matters. Nestorius was condemned and deposed by Pope Celestine, and Cyril was appointed to carry out the sentence, for which purpose he summoned a council of sixty bishops at Ephesus ; but John, patriarch of Antioch, summoned a counter-council of forty bishops, who supported Nestorius, and excommu- nicated Cyril. The rival patriarchs appealed to the Emperor Theodosius, who committed both Cyril and Nestorius to prison, Avhere they remained some time under rigorous treatment. Cyril, by the influence of Pope Celestine, was liberated, and restored in 431 to his see of Alexandria, which lie retained till his deatli in 444. His 173 PETER THE GBEAT IN ENGLAND. THE BOOK OF DAYS. peter the great in England. works are numerous, mostly on difficult points of doctrine, which are rendered more obscure by a peridexed style, and the barbarous Greek ill which thoy are written. They have been published in seven vols, folio, Greek and Latm, Paris, 103S. 7Jrt„i.— Cnptfiiu ]\Iachirc, Arctic voyager, 1807. DiVrf.— Clmrleiiwgne, 814; King Henry VIII., 1.547, Windsor ; Sir Fmncis Drake, 1596 ; Sir Thomas Bodley, founder of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, 1612 ; Peter the Great of Russia, 1725 ; Mrs Johnson (Stella), 1728, Dublin: J. B. Danville, 1782, Par-is: ]\Iademoiselle Clairon, actress, 1803 ; Sir Willi.am Beechey, painter, 1S39 ; ^V. H. Prescott, histori.an, 1859. PETER THE GKEAT IN ENGLAND. On the 28th of January 1725, died Peter I., Czar ofUussia, deservedly named the Great ; one of the most extraordinary men that ever appeared on the great theatre of the world, in any age or country— a being full of contradictions, yet con- sistent in all he did ; a promoter of literature, arts, and sciences, yet without education himself. ' lie gave a polish,' says Voltaire, ' to his people, and was himself a savage ; he taught them the art of war, of which he was himself ignorant ; from the sight of a small boat on the river Moskwa he erected a powerful fleet, made himself an ex- pert and active shipwright, sailor, pilot, and com- mander ; he changed the manners, customs, and laws of the Russians ; and lives in their memory as the father of his country.' His taste for everything connected with ships and navigation amounted, in early life, to a pas- sion. When he had resolved to visit the countries of Western Europe, to learn how to improve his own barbarous subjects, he went straight to Saar- dam, in Holland, and there, with his companions, worked in the dockyards as a common ship- wright, by the name of Pieter Timmerman ; he rose early, boiled his own pot, and received wages for his labour. When well advanced in the manual art, he proceeded, in January 1698, to England, to study the theory of ship-building, and the method of making draughts and laying them off in the mould-lofts. Arriving in honour- able state with his companions in three English ships, which had been dispatched for him, he was kindly received by King William, but without state ceremonial, his wish being to remain in England simply as a private gentleman ; accord- ingly, his name never once appears in the London Gazette, then, as now, the only official paper. A large house was hired for him and his suite, at the bottom of York -buildings, now Buckingham- street, in the Adelphi, — the last house on the east side, looking on the Thames. It contained spa- cious apartments, in which some of the decorations that existed at the time of the imperial visit may still be seen.* As the Czar came not in any public character, he was placed under the especial charge of the Marquis of Carmarthen, with whom he became very intimate. It is stated in a private letter, that they used to spend * Pepys. the diarist, lived in the house opposite, the last on the west side of the street, but it has been since rebuilt. 174 their evenings frequently together in drinking hot pepper and brandy. Peter loved strong liquors ; and we learn from one of the j)apers of the day, that he took a particular fancy to the nectar ambrosia, a new cordial which the com- pounder presented to his Majesty, who sent for more of it. The Czar sojourned in England four mouths. In the Posthoij it is stated that, on the day after his arrival, he went to Kensington Palace, to dine with King William and the Court ; but he was all the while incognito. On the Saturday following, the Czar went to the opera ; and on the Friday night he was present at the last of the Temple revels. On the following Sunday, he went in a hackney-coach to Kensington Palace, and returned at night to his lodgings (in Norfolk- street), Avhere he was attended by several of the King's servants. His movements, during the rest of the month, were a journey to Woolwich and Deptford, to see the dockyards ; then to the theatre, to see the Rival Queens ; or Alexander the Great ; to St James's, to be present at a fine ball ; to HedrifT, where a ship was building for him ; and he was present at the launch of a man- of-war at Chatham. The Czar was continually annoyed by the crowds in the streets of London, as he had been at Amsterdam, and he could not bear the jostling with becoming patience. As he was one day walking along the Strand with the Marquis of Carmarthen, a porter, with a load on his shoulder, rudely pushed against him, and drove him into the road. He was extremely indignant, and ready to knock the man down ; but the Marquis interfering, saved the offender, only telling him that the gentleman whom he had so rudely run against was 'the Czar.' The porter turning round, replied with a grin, ' Czar ! we are all Czars here.' After a month's residence in London, the Czar and his suite removed to John Evelyn's house, Sayes-court, close to Deptford dockyard. It had been let by Evelyn to Admiral Benbow, whose term had just expired. A doorway was broken through the boundary-wall of the dockyard, to communicate with the dwelling-house. The grounds, which were beautifuHy laid out and planted, had been much damaged by the Admiral ; but the Czar proved a worse tenant. Evelyn's servant wrote to him : ' There is a house full of people right nasty. The Czar lies next your library, and dines in the parlour next your study. He dines at ten o'clock, and six at night ; is very often at home a whole day ; very often in the King's yard, or by water, dressed in several dresses. The King is expected there this day : the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be entertained in. The King pays for all he has.' But this was not all : Evelyn had a favourite holly-hedge, which the Czar is said to have spoiled, by trundling a wheelbarrow through it every morning, for the sake of exercise. The Czar and his retinue remained here only three weeks ; but the damage done to the house and gardens was estimated at £150. We have scarcely any evidence that the Czar overworked inDeptford dockyard as a shipwright; I he seems to have been employed in collecting in- PETEB THE GREAT IN ENGLAND. JANUAEY 28. PETEE THE GEEAT IN ENGLAND. formation connected with naval architecture, from the Commissioner and Surveyor of the Navy, Sir Anthony Deane, Peter might be seen almost daily on the Thames, in a sailing yacht, or rowing a boat ; and the King made him a present of SAYES COURT, DEPTFORD, THE RESIDENCE OF PETER THE GREAT. the Hoyal Transport, with orders to change her masts, rigging, sails, &c., in any such way as the Czar might think proper for improving her sailing qualities. But his great delight was to get into a small decked boat from the dockyard, and taking MenzikofF, and three or four of his suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helms- man ; by which practice he said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when they got home. Having finished their day's work, they used to resort to a public-house in Great Tower-street, close to Tower-hill, to smoke their pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the Czar of Muscovy's head painted and put up for a sign, which continued till the year 1808, when a person named Waxel took a fancy to the old sign, and offered the then land- lord of the house to paint him a new one for it. A copy was accordingly made, which maintained its station until the house was rebuilt, when the sign was not replaced, and the name only remains. The Czar, in passing up and down the river, was much struck with the magnificent building of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had visited it, and seen the oid pensioners, he thought to be a royal palace ; and one day, when King William asked him how he liked his hospi- tal for decayed seamen, the Czar answered, ' If I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, and convert St James's into a hospital.' It being term-time while the Czar was in London, he was taken into Westminster Hall ; he inquired who all those busy people in black gowns and flowing wigs were, and what they were about? Being answered 'They are lawyers, sir,' ' Lawyers ! ' said he, much astonished, ' why, I have but two in my whole dominions, and I believe I shall hang one of them the moment I get home.' Two sham fights at sea were got up for the Czar ; the ships were divided into two squadrons, and every ship took her opposite, and fired three broadsides aloft and one alow, without sliot. On returning from Portsmouth, Peter and his party, twenty-one in all, stopped at the principal inn at Godalming, and, according to the landlord's liill, which is preserved in the Bodleian Lil)rary, there consumed, at breakfast, half a sheep, a quarter of lamb, ten pullets, twelve chickens, three quarts of brandy, six quarts of mulled wine, seven dozen of eggs, with salad in pro- portion : and at dinner, five ribs of beef, weighing three stone; one sheep, 56 lbs. ; three-quarters of lamb, a shoulder and loin of veal boiled, eight pullets, eight rabbits, two dozen and a-half of sack, and one dozen of claret. Peter was invariably a hard-drinker, for he is known to have drunk a pint of brandy and a bottle of sherry for his morning draught ; and after dinner eight bottles of sack, ' and so went to the play- house.' The Czar had an extraordinary aversion to a crowd : at a birthday -ball at St James's, instead of joining the company, he was put into a small room, whence he could see all that passed without being himself seen. When he went to see the King in Parliament, he was placed upon the roof of the house to peep in at the window, Avheu King and people so laughed at him that he was obliged to retire. The Czar had a favourite monkey, which sat upon the back of his chair, and one day annoyed the King by jumping upon him, while he paid Peter a visit. Bishop Burnet accompanied the Czar to shew him the different churches in the metropolis, and to give information upon ecclesiastical matters. While residing at Deptford. Peter frequently invited Dr. HaUey from the Eoyal Observatory, in Greenwich Park, to dine with him, and give him his opinion and advice, especially upon his plan of building a fleet. He also visited several manufactories and workshops in London, and bought a famous geographical clock of its maker, Carte, at the sign of the Dial and Crown, near Essex-street, in the Strand. The Czar was very fond of mechanism, and it is said that before he left England he could take a watch to pieces, and put it together again. The King promised Peter that there should be no impediment to his engaging and taking with him to Eussia, English artificers and scientific men; and when he re- turned to Holland, there went with him captains of ships, pilots, surgeons, gunners, mast-makers, boat - builders, sail -makers, compass - makers, carvers, anchor-smiths, and copper-smiths ; in all, nearly 500 persons. At his departure, he presented to the King a ruby, valued at £10,000, which he brought in his waistcoat-pocket, and placed in WiUiam's hand, wrapped up in a piece of brown paper ! The memory of Peter, among his countrymen, is held in the highest veneration. The magni- ficent equestrian statue erected by Catherine II. ; the waxen figure of Peter in the museum of the Academy, founded by himself; the dress, the sword, and the hat, which he wore at the battle of Pultowa, the last pierced with a ball ; the horse that he rode in that battle ; the trowsers, worsted stockings, shoes, and cap, which he wore 175 claieon's unseen rERSEcrxoE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, "W. H. PKESCOTT. at Saai-aam— all in tlio same apartment ; liis two favourite dotrs. his tnrninu'-latlie. and tools, \ntli specimens of his -rtorknuinship ; the iron bar which he forged with his own Jiand at Olonitz ; the LitHc OrniKhirc, so carefully preserved as tiio tirst ijerm of the Ixussian navy; and the wooden hut in which he lived while superintend- ing the tirst foundation of Petersburg :— these, and a thousand other tangible memorials, all preserved witli the utmost care, speak in the most intelligible language the opinion which the Eussiaus hold o( the Father of his Countri/. clairon's unseen persecutor. Mademoiselle Clairon, the theatrical idol of Paris in the middle of the last century, relates in her Memoirs, that in her early days she attracted the aflcctions of a Breton gentleman, whom, as he was gloomy and despotic, she found it impossible to love. He died of chagrin on her account, without succeeding even in inducing her to come and see him in his last moments. The event was followed by a series of occurrences which, notwithstanding their mysterious nature, she relates with the appearance of perfect sin- cerity. First, there was every night, at eleven o'clock, a piercing cry heard in the street before her house. And, in several instances, on friends speaking of it incredulously, it took place on the instant, to the consternation of all who heard it. After an interval of some weeks, the annoyance was renewed in the form of a musket-shot, which seemed to be fired against her window, and was heard by all in her apartment, but never could be traced by the police to any living agent. Then another interval took place, after which an invisible clapping of hands followed : this was followed in its turn by a strain of fine music. Finally, after two years and u-half, this strange persecution from the invisible ceased. Madame Clairon states that she afterwards received a visit from an old lady, who had attended her lover on his death-bed, and who informed her that with his latest breath he had inveighed against the object of his unfortunate passion, and threatened to pursue her as long after his death as she had pursued him during his life, being exactly two years and a-half. The Duchess d'Abrantes, in her Memoirs, relates how she had heard Clairon give a solemn recital of these occurrences, ' laying aside all affectation and everything that could be con- strued into speaking for effect.' The wonder is how, if such things happen, they should so entirely fail to obtain credence ; how, if they do not happen, they should be so often related as if they did, and on what, in ordinary matters, would pass as sufficient evidence. Clairon was a great favourite with Voltaire : it would be curious to learn what he thought of her story of the invisible persecutor. She ap- pears to have had her full share of theatrical caprices and jealousies, under one of which she prematurely withdrew from the stage, though not without a considerable fortune. Garrick, asked what he thought of her as an actress, said she was I too much an actress;' which gives a tolerable idea of her attitudinary style. It is said she was equally an actress off the stage, maintaining a grand manner even before her domestics. She died at eighty-one, in full possession of her faculties. W. H. PRESCOTT. America has great honour in William Hickling Prescott, author of the histories of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, of Cortez, and of Pizarro, who died on the 28th of January 1859, at the age of 63. The historical writings of Prescott are among tlie few finished and classical produc- tions of the kind in our age, Avhich are worthy to rank with those of Gibbon, Hume, and others, in the last centurj'. Fortunate in having the power of devoting himself to those studies in which it was his ambition to excel, this eminent American was just as unfortunate in the deficiency of certain requisites which one would have pre- viously said were indispensable for such a career. He had from an early period of life lost in a great measure the use of his eyes. How he contrived by patience and the use of adroit arrangements to overcome this prodigious difficulty, is detailed by himself in a manner extremely interesting : ' Having settled,' he says, 'on a subject for a particular history, I lost no time in collecting the materials, for which I had peculiar advan- tages. But just before these materials arrived, my eye had experienced so severe a strain that I enjoyed no use of it again for reading for several years. It has, indeed, never since fully recovered its strength, nor have I ever ventured to use it again by candlelight. I well remember the blank despair which I felt when my literary treasures arrived from Spain, and I saw the mine of wealth lying around me which I was forbidden to explore. I determined to see what could be done with the eyes of another. I remembered that Johnson had said, in reference to MUton, that the great poet had abandoned his projected history of England, finding it scarcely possible for a man without eyes to pursue a historical work, requir- ing reference to various authorities. The remark piqued me to make an attempt. ' I obtained the services of a reader who knew no language but his own. I taught him to pro- nounce the Castilian in a manner suited, I suspect, much more to my ear than to that of a Spaniard ; and we began our wearisome journey through Mariana's noble History. I cannot even now call to mind without a smile the tedious hours in which, seated under some old trees in my country residence, we pursued our slow and melancholy way over pages which afforded no glimmering of light to him, and from which the light came dimly struggling to me through a half-intelligible vocabulary. But in a few weeks the light became stronger, and I was cheered by the consciousness of my own improvement ; and when we had toiled our way through seven quartos, I found I could understand the book when read about two-thirds as fast as ordinary English. My reader's office required the more patience ; he had not even this result to cheer him in his labour. ' I now felt that the great difficulty could be overcome ; and I obtained the services of a reader whose acquaintance with modern and ancient tongues supplied, so far as it could be supplied, the deficiency of eyesight on my part. But W. H. PEESCOTT. JANUARY 28. lOED NOETH'S ADMINISTEATION. though, in this way I could examine various au- thorities, it was not easy to arrange in my mind the results of my reading, drawn from different and often contradictory accounts. To do this I dictated copious notes as I went along ; and when I had read enough for a chapter — from thirty to forty and sometimes fifty pages in length — I had a mass of memoranda in my own language, which would easily bring before me at one view the fruits of my researches. Those notes were care- fully read to me ; and while my recent studies were fresh in my recollection, I ran over the whole of my intended chapter in my mind. This process I repeated at least half-a-dozen times, so that when I finally put my pen to paper it ran off pretty glibly, for it was an effort of memory rather than creation. This method had the ad- vantage of saving me from the perplexity of frequently referring to the scattered passages in the originals, and it enabled me to make the cor- rections in my own mind which are usually made in the manuscript, and which with my mode of writing — as I shall explain — -would have much embarrassed me. Yet I must admit that this method of composition, when the chapter was very long, was somewhat too heavy a strain on the memory to be altogether i-ecommended. ' Writing presented me a difficulty even greater than reading. Thierry, the famous blind historian of the Norman Conquest, advised me to cultivate dictation ; but I have usually preferred a substi- tute that I found in a writing-case made for the blind, which I procured in London forty years since. It is a simple apparatus, often described by me for the benefit of persons whose vision is imperfect. It consists of a frame of the size of a piece of paper, traversed by brass wires as many as lines are wanted on the page, and with a sheet of carbonated paper, such as is used for getting duplicates, pasted on the reverse side. With an ivory or agate stylus the writer traces his charac- ters between the wires on the carbonated sheet, making indelible marks, which he cannot see, on the white page below. This treadmill operation has its defects ; and I have repeatedly supposed I had accomplished a good page, and was pro- ceeding in all the glow of composition to go ahead when I found I had forgotten to insert a sheet of my writing-paper below, that my labour had been all thrown away, and that the leaf looked as blank as myself. Notwithstanding these and other whimsical distresses of the kind, I have found my writing-case my best friend in my lonely hours, and with it have written nearly all that I have sent into the world the last forty years. ' The manuscript thus written and deciphered — for it was in the nature of hieroglyphics — by my secretary was then read to me for correction, and copied off in a fair hand for the printer. All this, it may be thought, was rather a slow process, requiring the virtue of patience in all the parties concerned. But in time my eyes improved again. Before I had finished Ferdinand and Isabella, I could use them some hours every day. And thus they have continued till within a few years, though subject to occasional interruptions, some- times of weeks and sometimes of months, when I could not look at a book. And this circum- stance as well as habit, second nature, has led me to adhere still to my early method of composition. Of late years I have suffered not so much from inability of the eye as dimness of the vision, and the warning comes that the time is not far distant when I must rely exclusively on the eyes of another for the prosecution of my studies. Per- haps it should be received as a warning that it is time to close them altogether.' LORD north's administration. On this day in 1770 commenced the long ad- ministration of Lord North, during which the American colonies were lost to the British crown. The fatal misjudgment and obstinacy which led to such a disastrous result can scarcely be thought of in our times with patience ; and, when we think of the evils inflicted on America in the vain attempt to drag her back into subjection, a feel- ing of indignation at all persons in administra- tion, and particularly the chief, is apt to take possession of the mind. Yet, strange to say, the head of the cabinet which carried on the wretched MEDAL STRUCK IN HONOUR OF LORD NORTH. contest, was undeniablj' one of the most amiable and pleasant-natured men in existence. His character is brought out in a charming manner by a daughter of the minister, who wrote in compli- ance with a request of Lord Brougham : ' His manners were those of a high-bred gentle- man, particularly easy and natural ; indeed, good 12 breeding was so marked a part of hie character that it would have been affectation in him to have been otherwise than well-bred. With such good taste and good breeding, his raillery could not fail to be of the best sort — always amusing and never wounding. Ho was the least fastidious of men. possessing the happy art of extracting any good LORD north's aujiinistkation. THE BOOK OF DAYS, commencement of gas-lighting. that tbere was to be extracted out of anybody. IIo never would lot his children call people hores; and I remember the triumphant joy of his family, when, after a tedious visit from a very prosy and emptv man, he exc-laimed, " AVell, that man is an insuderable bore ! " He used frequently to have lari,^^ parties of foreiijners and distinguished per- son's \o dine with him at Bushy Park. He was himself the life and soid of these parties. To have seen him then, you would have said that he was there iu his true element. Yet I think that he had really more enjoyment when he went into the country on a Saturday and Sunday, with only his own family, or one or two intimate friends : he then entered into all the jokes and fun of his children, was the companion and intimate friend of his elder sons and dauc;hters, and the merry, entertaining playfellow of his little girl, who Avas five years younger than any of the others. To his servants he was a most kind and indulgent master : if provoked by stupidity or impertinence, a few hasty, impatient Avords might escape him ; hut I never saw him really out of humour. He had a drunken, stupid groom, who used to provoke him ; and who from this circumstance was called by the children " the man that puts papa in a passion ;" and I think he continued all his life putting papa in a passion, and being forgiven, for I believe he died in his service.' * Lord John E-assell, in his Life and Times of Charles James Fox (1859), remarks that Lord North had borne his elevation with modesty, and shewed equanimity in his fall. 'A trifling cir- cumstance evinced his good humour. On the evening when he announced his resignation in the House of Commons [March 20, 1782], snow was falling, and the weather was bitterly cold. Lord North kept his carriage. As he was passing through the great-coat room of the House of Commons, many members (chiefly his opponents) crowded the passage. AVhen his carriage was announced, he put one or two of his friends into it, and then making a bow to his opponents, said, "Good night, gentlemen; it is the first time I have known the advantage of being in the secret." ' COMMENCEMENT OF GAS-LIGHTING. January 28, 1807, Pall Mall was lighted with gas, — the first street of any city so illuminated. The idea of iising carburetted hydrogen gas for purposes of illumination first occurred to Mr William Murdoch, a native of Ayrshire, holding a position of trust at the mines of Hedruth, in Cornwall. He made his first experiments in 1792, at Eedruth. Removing in 1798 to the machine- making establishment of Messrs Watt and Boul- tou, at Birmingham, he there followed up his MESSRS. WATT AND BOULTON's ESTABLISHMENT, BIRMINGHAM. experiments, and succeeded in lighting up the buddings with gas for the celebration of the Peace of Amiens. He also fitted up the works of PhiUps and Lee, at Manchester, with gas- lights in 1805, and there fully proved the econo- mical value of the scheme. Murdoch was a man * Letter by Lady Charlotte Lindsay, youngest daughter of Lord North, written in 1839 for Lord Bronghara's Statesmen of George III. 178 of sagacious and accurate understanding, worthy to be associated with his countryman Watt. A portrait of him is preserved in the hall of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. The merit of bringing gas-light into use in London belongs to a German named Winser, a man of an opposite type of intellect to Mur- doch, yet having the virtue of perseverance. In the pamphlets issued by this person for the COUET FOOLS AND JESTEES. JANUAEY 28. COUET FOOLS AND JESTEES. promotion of gas-ligliting scliemes and com- jjanies, there was such, extravagance, quackery, and fanaticism, as tended to retard their success. Sir Walter Scott wrote from London that there was a madman proposing to light London with — what do you think ? — why, with smoke ! Even the liberal mind of Sir Humphry Davy failed to take in the idea that gas was applicable to purposes of street or house lighting. Yet, Winser having succeeded after all in obtaining some supporters, the long line between St James's Palace and Cockspur-street did blaze out in a burst of gas-lamps on the night in question, to the no small admiration of the public. When we consider that gas-light has since been extended all over London, over nearly every town of above a thousand inhabitants in the empire, and pretty generally throughout the towns of both Europe and America, producing a marvellous saving in the expense of artificial light, it becomes curious to observe the great hesitation expressed in the scientific and popular literature of 1807-8-9 regarding the possibility of applying it economically to general use. The reader will readily find the expression of con- temporary public opinion on the subject in a paper in the Edinburgh Revieiv for January 1809, written by the j^i'^sent professor of Roman litera- ture in the University of Edinburgh (Pillans). In London, about 1810, before any company had been established, Mr Ackermann's shop, in the Strand, was regularly lighted with gas. It is said, that a lady calling there one evening, was so delighted with the beautiful white jets she saw on the counter, that she oflfered any money for permission to carry them home to light her drawing-room. Gas-lighting had a ridiculous objection to con- tend with, worthy to be ranked with that which insisted for years, without experiment, that the wheels of steam locomotives would go on whirl- ing without creating any forward movement. It was generally assumed that the pipes conveying gas would be hot, and apt to produce conflagra- tions. People used to touch them cautiously with their hands, under the belief that a careless touch would burn them. The lamp -lighters, to a man, were opposed to the new mode of lighting. A company being formed in 1810 (the share- holders, of course, being pitied as idiots), the system was put in practice for the first time on Westminster Bridge in the last night of the year 1812. Some districts of London had gas intro- duced on the streets in 1814. It then gradually found its way into other cities, and finally into other countries. It is calculated that on the capital of about twenty millions laid out on gas manufactories in this country, there is an average return of 6^ per cent. — a good commentary on the objections originally made to this mode of lighting. COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. In connection with the name of Henry YIIL, it may not be improper to advert to a custom of which he was a noted observer, — the custom, once universally prevalent, of keeping professional fools and jesters in palaces and other great houses. It was founded upon, or at least was in strict accordance with, a physiological principle, which may be expressed under this formula — the Utility of Laughter. Laughter is favourable to digestion, for by it the organs concerned in di- gestion get exercise, the exercise necessary for the process. And, accordingly, we usually find an ample meal more easily disposed of where merriment is going on, than a light one which has been taken in solitude, and under a sombre state of feeUng. According to the ideas of modern society, cheerful after-dinner conversation is sufficient stimulus for the digestive organs. Our fore- fathers, less refined, went at once to the point, and demanded a fixed and certain means of stir- ring up merriment ; and perhaps it may be doubted if they were not nearer to a true philo- sophy of the matter than we are. Anyhow, tlie fact is, that all through the middle ages men of means and consequence did keep oflicers for the promotion of laughter in their households, and especially at mgals. Such ofiicers were of two kinds. One was an imperfect-witted man, or fool, whose follies were deemed to be amusing ; GROUP OF COURT FOOLS. he wore a parti-coloured dress, including a cowl, which ended in a cock's head, and was winged with a couple of long ears ; he, moreover, carried in his hand a stick called his bauble, terminating either in an inflated bladder, or some other ludi- crous object, to be employed in slapping inad- vertent neighbours. The other, called a jester, was a ready-witted, able, and perhaps well- educated man, possessed of those gifts of repre- senting character, telling droll stories, and making pointed remarks, which we have seen giving' distinction to a Charles Mathews, and occasionally find in a certain degree in private society. The fool was a very humble person, haunting kitchen and scullery, messing almost with the dogs, and liable, when malapert, to a whipping. The jester was comparatively a com- 179 COURT TOOLS AND JESTEBS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. panion to the sovcrei£;n or noblo who engaged hi^ services. The importance of Berclic, 'jocu- Litor ' to AVilliam the Conqueror, is shewn by the fact of three towns and five carucates m Gloucestershire having been conterred upon him. And the names of Scogan, Will Somers, John Ileywood, Pace, Tarleton, and Archie Arm- strong, who were ' jesters ' to a succession of Tudor and Stuart sovereigns of England, have all been sufficiently notable to be preserved. We WILL SOMERS. introduce a correct portraiture of Somers, jester to Henry VIII., as a very fair representative of his class. It will be admitted that he is a per- fectly well -arranged and respectable -looking person. It is a curious illustration of the natural need that seems to exist in a certain state of society for the services of a fun-maker, that 180 Montezuma, Emperor of Mexico, was found by Cortez to have such an officer about his court. A pleasant volume, by Dr. John Doran, en- titled The Eistonj of Court Fools, was pub- lished in 1858, and seemed a tolerably exhaustive treatise on the subject. Nevertheless, the in- genious author has since found some additional COUET FOOLS AND JESTERS. JANUAHY 28. COUET FOOLS AND JESTEBS. details, whicli lie is pleased to communicate through these pages. A Supplementary/ Chapier io the 'History of Court Fools.' When the author of the last History of Court Fools wi'ote ' Finis ' to his volume, he had not fully satisfied himself on two points, — first, the date of the existence of the earliest jester; and, secondly, whether such an individual as an official fool, or fool by right of office, was still maintained in any public court or private household. On those two points he has since arrived at a more satisfactory conclusion ; and the result of his researches, on those and other points referring to the same subject, he submits to the consideration of the readers of these pages. It can scarcely be doubted that the female official fool had precedence of the male court and household jester. When Ceres went in search of Proserpine, the Queen of Eleusis sent with her one of the merriest of her maids, named lambe. This maid, renowned at court for her wit, frolic- some humour, power of repartee, and skill in saying smart things generally, was expressly sent with the bereaved mother to divert her sorrow by her quips and cranks, her jokes, gambols, and her laughter-compelling stories. This commission was, to the very letter, that which especially belonged to the official jester; and there is no reason to hesitate in assigning to lambe the dis- tinction of having been the founder of a race which is not yet extinct, and the godmother, so to speak, of satires in sharp measure which bear the name of Iambic. With regard to existing jesters officially ap- pointed, there are several who presume so to describe themselves, but of the genuineness or authenticity of whose pretensions much might be said, particularly in an adverse sense. It has become the fashion of clowns to travelling circuses to style themselves ' Queen's Jesters ;' and there is one of these, named Wallet, whose portrait has been engraved among those of the Eminent Men of the Age, and who writes himself down as Court Jester to Queen Victoria, by her Majesty's ap- pointment ! We can only say that we should feel grateful for a sight of the Lord Chamberlain's warrant confirming this authority. The fool by right of office must be looked for beyond the seas. The jester who figured at the Eglintoun tournament, and his brother who jokes and tumbles in the procession of Lady Godiva, may be mountebanks by profession, but they are only jesters for the nonce. The descendants of the old jesters are to be traced, however, in Eng- land as well as on the Continent. The dramatic writer, Mr Fitzball, refers to his descent from an illegitimate son of the Conqueror, who was lord of an estate called Eitz-EoUic. It has been sug- gested that this name may have been indicative of the calling exercised at court, by the owner of the estate. It might, indeed, have reference to the King's folly ; and if the original designation was Eitz-Folle, it would serve to point to the vocation of the lucky young gentleman's mother. However this may be, we have not to go far abroad for another illustration, to see how a pedi- gree may improve in the persons last enrolled. It is scarcely to be supposed that Gonella, the renowned Italian jester, of several centuries back, ever thought that among the future possessors of his name would be found a Monsignoi'e, exercis- ing the office, not of court fool, but of papal nuncio, at Brussels. From Italy, as from England, the professional Merry Andrew in households has passed away. There is a relic of some of them at Mantua, — the apartments assigned to the old, comic ducal dwarfs. These rooms, six in number, and little more than as many feet square, are mere white- washed cells, long since stripped of all furniture. At the end of one of them, said to have been their kitchen, there is a raised platform, on which the jocular little men used to dine. It is a singular fact that as the female jester had precedence, in point of date of origin, of her brother in the vocation, so has she survived that brother, and still holds her own in the court of the Sultan and the households of his great pashas. When Mrs Edmund Hornby was ' In and about Stamboul,' in 1858, she, in company with other ladies, visited the hareem of Kiza Pasha. The visitors accepted an invitation to a banquet, at which warm i-ye bread, covered with seeds, plea- sant soups, smoking pilaufs, and pancakes swimming in honey, were among the chief dishes. The native ladies gave loose and unseemly rein to their appetites, stimulated by official female buffoons who served the dishes with accompany- ing jokes, the iitterance of which excited the most uproarious laughter, not only from the ladies their mistresses, but also from their less witty, yet wit-appreciating, slaves. Mrs Hornby de- scribes the chief jester as ' a wild and most extra- ordinary-looking woman, with an immensity of bi-oad humour and drollery in her face.' The quality of the fun seems to have been of the coarsest ; and the English ladies congratulated themselves on their lack of apprehension of jokes at which the lovely Circassian, the second wife of the Pasha, ' between the intervals of licking her fingers and spoon, and popping tit-bits on our plates, laughed so complacently, which sometimes obliged the Arabs and eunuchs at the door to dive under the arras, to conceal their uncontrol- lable fits of mirth.' Whether the modern female Turkish jester be the descendant or not of a long line of predecessors, we are not informed. We do know, however, that when Lady Wortley Montague paid a similar visit, at the beginning of the last century, she was only amused by indifferent dancing, and by another exhibition, of which she speaks in the free and easy style of the fine ladies of her day. This female table-jester— and this again is a singular circumstance— was of old a personage common enough at inns on the Continent. The readers of Erasmus will remember among his Colloquies one entitled ' Uiversorium.' In that graphic paper we are taken to an inn at Lyons. The guests are received by handsome women, young maidens, and younger girls, all of whom also wait at table and enliven the company, whose digestion they make easy by narrating joyous stories, bandying witticisms, playing give- and-take with the visitors, and shewing them- selves as ready to meet a jest by a sharp reply, 181 COURT FOOLS AND JESTEES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. COTTET Foots AND JESTEE9. as to proToko a reply by a salliard jest. The youni^est of these ]n-etty and carefully trained fools was never unequal to the task of meeting the heaviest lire of broad wit from a whole room full of revellers. These they stimulated and provoked by showers of humorous epithets and a world ot' pretty ways. They followed the guests to their ehambcr doors, laughing, jestmg, and sporting : nor did they take leave of them till they had performed offices which young prin- cesses in the Odyssey render to the guests of their royal sires, carrying off the linen of the travellers, dropping their foolery, and then se- riously addressing themselves to the office of laimdresses. In the East, beyond the Bosphorus, there is still to be found in one and the same individual, in some families, a mixture of the domestic and the buffoon. These, however, probably resemble rather the impudent French or Spanish, and even some English valets of the drama, than the official jester; men whose impudent wit was tolerated, rather than solicited or expected. The male fool, by right of office, is now to be met with only in Eussia. ' In St Petersburg,' says an English lady, in her Six Years' Travels in Russia, ' they are by no means rare.' The old Hussian joke of serving up dwarfs in a pie, still ?ileases imperial Grand Dukes. The professional Russian fools, this lady tells us, ' wear a ridicu- lous dress, but dwarfs usually appear in plain clothes.' In the recently-published Life of Bishop Doyle, of Eildare and Leighlin, by Mr Fitzpatrick, the author fixes on that Roman Catholic prelate as being the last person within these realms who kept a fool in his household. Dr Doyle, how- ever, who has been dead about a score of years, was, in the case cited, simply giving shelter to a village idiot, for sufferers of which class there was no public asylum in Ireland. The poor idiot did not fill, in Dr Doyle's household, such an office as was executed in that of the late Pope Gre- gory XVI., by Cardinal Soglia. In the gardens of the Vatican, the illustrious men there used to pass away the long summer evening hours, by playing at blindmau's buff, Soglia being always hoodwinked, and armed with a stick. It was his object to strike at those whose aim was, of course, to evade him. On one of these occasions, the holy father stooped to remove a flower-vase which stood in peril of being shattered by the Cardinal's upraised stick, which, however, de- scended so rapidly as to put the papal skull in danger, but that some officials present uncere- moniously pulled his holiness backward. Soglia, as concoctor of fun to the Eoman court, was succeeded by Monsignore Aopi, who was also the Pope's confessor. It is, moreover, added, that Gregory took great delight in the jokes of certain Capuchins, particularly when they were tipsy. So, at least, says Delia Galtina, according to whom the old court-foolery was sustained with great spirit at Rome to the very last. It must be allowed, that the legendary saints themselves afforded the Popes good authority for this sort of buffoonery. St Kened, for instance, though a weak, decrepit, and sickly little fellow, was an inveterate joker. Wheia 182 . •* the Welsh St David succeeded, by his prayers, in getting him strong and straight, it was the other saint's most favourite joke, by dint of his own prayers, to get himself bent double again ! And this course went on alternately, till St David, unable to see any fun in it, gave up his task, and left the wit to his double crookedness of mind and body. The act, however, was just one which might have entered into a fool's head. In a better sort of wit, remarkable for its bold- ness, the religious men who hung about courts enjoyed the admiration and impunity awarded to the jesters. For example : ' What is the difference between a Scot and a sot?' asked Charles of Burgundy of Duns Scotus, as the two sat opposite each other at or after dinner. ' There is only a table between them ! ' answered the holy clerk, whose reply was received with un- bounded applause, either for its finely small wit, or its incontrovertible truth. Some potentates have been satisfied with less than wit ; of such was the Grand Duchess Catherine of Russia, who maintained a Finnish girl on her establishment, in whose incomparable mimicry of all the great people at court her highness experienced a never-failing delight. A similar pleasure is stiU. enjoyed by the negro king of Dahomey, concerning whom Duncan, the Life-guardsman, who travelled in Africa in 1849, states a curious circumstance. In that uncivilized monarch's dominions, it is considered highly disgraceful for a man to be guilty of drunkenness. Immunity, in this respect, is the privilege of the king's mimics and jesters only. Of these the black sovereign possesses many, and in their degradation and jollity he finds occasion for much mirth and laughter. In England, those merry serving-men whose success was sometimes rewarded by making them lords of landed estates, were occasionally em- ployed rather for sedative than stimulating pur- poses. Strutt records that it was not unusual to engage them as story-tellers to kings and princes who required to be gently talked into sleep. This office has expired, but well-qualified candidates for it survive. In our own courts, however, it was the more rattling fool who enjoyed the greater share of admiration. He spoke so boldly, when there was need for it, that honest and merry men of note, desirous to serve their royal master, borrowed the liberty, as it were, and told valuable truth under the form of an idle joke. When Richard II. was pressed by all classes of his people for reform in a government under which they were sorely oppressed, his plumed and dainty flatterers advised him to place himself at the head of his army, and destroy nobles and commons alike, who were thus un- reasonable. The King was perplexed ; ' but,' says John Trussell, the historian, ' there was present old Sir John Linne, a good soldier, but a shuttlebrain, of whom the King in merriment demanded, in this case, what was, as he thought, the fittest to be done. Sir John swore, " Blood and wounds ! let us charge home and kiU every mother's son, and so we shall make quick despatch of the best friends you have in the kingdom." This giddy answer,' acjds Trussell, ' more weighed with the King than if it had been spoken in COURT FOOLS AND JESTEES. JANUAEY 28. COUBT FOOLS AND JESTEHS. grave and sober sort : and thus it often happens, that wise counsel is more sweetly followed when it is tempered with folly ; and earnest is the less offensive, if it be delivered in jest.' Indeed, it may be said, that on such principle was founded the very institution of court fools. Even the grave Queen Elizabeth of York could thus listen to her Greenwich jester, William. It was otherwise with her husband, Henry VII., who neither kept fools himself, nor admired those maintained by the English nobility. This is little to be wondered at, if all the jesters of lords resembled him who was kept by Thomas Lord Derby. Henry VII. was the guest of the latter, soon after his Majesty had so ungratefully exe- cuted Sir William Stanley, Lord Derby's own brother ! Host and guest were standing on the leads of Latham House, viewing the country. Lord Derby was close against the parapet, the King immediately behind him. The house fool ob- served this propinquity, and chose to suspect the King of present, or was eager to remind him of past, treachery. Drawing near to his master, he exclaimed gruffly, ' Tom, remember Will ! ' This fool's bolt, so swiftly shot, reached the King's conscience, and his Majesty withdrew, in un- dignified hurry, into the house. Henry's son, the eighth of the name, restored the banished official to court. Of his own Sir Merrymans, none is better known to us than Will Somers, whose effigy is at Hampton Court. This good fellow's memory was perpetuated by the establishment of the ' Will Somers Tavern,' in Old Fish-street. When tavern-tokens were allowed to be issued — a permission in existence as late as the reign of Charles II. — the landlord of the above hostelry issued one, with a figure of Will Somers on it, by way of distinction. It is to be remembered, that a time ensued when a distinction was made between a jester and a fool. A dramatist like Heywood did not dis- dain to be the former, minghng with gentlemen and scholars ; but we see that the fool, in the days of Mary and Philip, was of a lower degree. When the illustrious two, just mentioned, visited Faversham, the Chamberlain kept a book, in which he entered moneys given to the members of the royal retinue. The entry of — ' To the King's and Queen's jester — 2s.,' indicates the position of the fool ; two shillings was the lowest sum awarded to the lowest menial in the royal train. The keeper of the bears seems to have been a more important personage than the baser fool at Queen Elizabeth's court, where her jester, Tarleton the actor, was held in some honour. When fool and bearward followed her Majesty to Canterbury, the corporation gave liberally to her retinue ; but while the bearward received an angel, or ten shillings, the fool, Walter, was put off with the odd money, which, added to the angel, just made an English mark. ' Three and fourpence' was the sum that fell to the fool. Let it not be considered irreverent if the words ' Shakspeare' and 'jester' be com- bined. They naturally occur here. There are four years, 1585-89, during which nothing certain is known of Shakspeare's whereabouts. In a letter addressed by Sir Philip Sidney, from Utrecht, 1586, to his father-in-law, Walsingham, there is a passage to this effect : * I wrote to you a letter, by Will, my Lord of Leicester's jesting player.' In the first volume of the Shaks- peare Society papers, Mr John Bruce asks, ' Who was this Will, my Lord of Leicester's jesting player ?' He may have been Will John- son, Will Sly, WlU Kimpe, or, as some have thought, even the immortal William himself! This knotty point cannot be unravelled here. The circumstance serves, however, to shew that 'jesting players' followed their patrons even to the tented field. Under our first Stuart kings, the court fools revived in dignity. They were allowed serving- men to wait upon them, and some of these were pensioned for their good services. The author of Letters from the Mountains states that in some Scottish families of the olden time, down to the present century, was often to be found an individual who united in himself the offices of gamekeeper and warlock or wizard, and that in the latter capacity he in some degree resembled the court or household jester. There was a stranger combination than this in the person of the famous Archie Armstrong, official fool to James I. and his son Charles. Archie was a sort of gentleman groom of the chambers to the first King, preceding him when in progress, and look- ing after the royal quarters. In this capacity, AECHIE AEMSTKOXG. Armstrong was made a free citizen of Aberdeen, and held that freedom till his death. James must have loved him, at one period ; for despite his hatred of tobacco, he granted a patent to Archie for the manufacture of tobacco pipes. The fool, moreover, gained no trifling addition to his salary, in bribes administered to him for presenting petitions, even those of recusants ; at 183 COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. THE BOOK OP, DAYS. COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. ■which last, howovor. James Mas not so well pleased as he was -with Archie's jokes. The position of Avmstrons;. who was on most familiar terms with his secoml master, Charles, is signifi- cantly indicated by liis demand, when appointed to accompany that Prince to Spain. He claimed to haye the "scryice of an attendant, the same as ^yas awarded to the gentlemen of the royal suite. The claim caused a tumult among the gentlemen in question, and Archie was f;un to go abroad in less state than he thought became him. In the gloomj- days that succeeded, the fool raised laughter at court, but not siich an honest laughter as used to shake the house of Charles's brotluT. Prince Henry, where ' sweetmeats and Coryat,' that prince of uon-ofBcial jesters and coxcombs, \ised to finish and gladden every repast. Although the jester was not to be found on the household list of Oliver Cromwell, there were occasions when buffoons, hired for sport, ap- peared at "Whitehall. One of these was the marriage of the Protector's daughter. Prances, with Mr. Eich. At the festival which followed the ceremony, some of the buffoons attempted to blacken with a burnt cork the face of Sir Thomas Hillingsby, as he was dancing. The solemn old gentleman-usher to the Queen of Bohemia was so enraged at this liberty, that he drew his dagger and wovild have made short work with the jester's life, had not others present interfered. There was, however, very wide licence at this feast. It was there that Oliver descended to practical foolery, snatched off his son Richard's wig, and, pretending to iling it into the fire, contrived to slip it under him, and, sitting on it, affected to deplore its loss. ^yhen Wharton, in the True Briton, compared two of the Chancellors of Charles II. (Notting- ham and Shaftesbury), he reckoned among the superior characteristics of the former, the absence of buffoons from his household. The last man of the next reign whom one might expect to see with a fool in his suite, was the infamous Judge Jeffries. His official jester, however, attended him on his bloody circuit. The judge loved and laughed at the fool's power of wit and mimicry; and at Taunton he tossed to the buffoon the 'pardon' of a convicted victim, leaving the victim's friends to purchase it of him, if such was desired, and lay within the compass of their means ! After this, the official jester disappeared, or Lis calling was modified. Thus, in the early part of the last century, there was a well-known Cheshire dancing-master, named Johnson, who was hired out at parties given by the northern nobility, at which he had licence to utter or enact anything that was likely to move the guests to laughter. Johnson was familiarly known as ' Lord Flame,' the name of a character played by him, in his own extravaganza, entitled Surlo- thrumlo, a piece acted at the Haymarket in 1729. Johnson was among the last of the paid English jesters. The genuine ultimus scurrarum in tliis country is said to have been a retainer in the house of Mr. Bartlett, of Castlemorton, Worces- tershire. The date of his death is not precisely known, but it would seem to have been in the last half of the last century. He is still spoken 184 of; and 'as big a fool as Jack Ilafod,' at once preserves his name and indicates his qviality. Since Hafod's days, Ave have only had fools for the nonce, in England. Such is he who struts in anniversary processions, or who is only reproduced as a memorial of the past, like the dramatic jester Avho figures in the gay doings at Sudeley "Castle, where Mr and Mrs Dent, the occupiers of that old residence of Katherine Parr, preside at fancy balls, in the ancient mansion, in the gallant costume of Henry and his Queen. There is not much to be added to the history of the Court Pools of Prance. Of one of the most renowned of these, Triboulet, the present writer saw a capital portrait, the property of Walter Savage Landor, sold at Christie's, in 1859. It is the work of Licinio, the great rival of Titian, and is worthy of either hand. Tri- boulet appears to have been a man of strongly- marked but 'jolly' features; just such a man, in short, as history, but not the dramatic historians, have made him. The most extraordinary combination of two offices that ever occurred, existed at the court of Louis XVIII. , in the person of Coulon, a medi- cal man of great skill, who ultimately abandoned all practice except with respect to the Xing, to whom he was at once doctor and jester. When a medical student, Coulon was wont, by his powers of mimicry, to keep a whole hospital-ward in roars of laughter. On one occasion, when officiating as assistant to the great Alibert, as the latter was bandaging the swollen legs of the suffering sovereign, Coulon so exquisitely mi- micked his master behind his back, that the delighted Louis retained him thenceforward near his person. Por the amusement of his royal patron, Coulon gave daily imitations. If the King asked him whom he had met, the medical jester would at once assume the bearing, voice, "and the features of the person he desired to represent. It mattered not at all what the sex or the quality might be, or whether the mimicked individuals were the King's friends or relations, or otherwise. In either case, the monarch was in an ecstasy of hilarity as he promptly recognisecl each personage thus presented to him. — ' Coulon,' said the Duke of Orleans to him, one day, ' I happened to see and hear your imitation of me, yesterday. It was capital, but not quite perfect. You did not wear, as I do, a diamond pin in your cravat. Allow me to present you with mine ; it will make the resemblance more striking.' 'Ah! your highness,' replied Coulon, fixing the pin in iiis own cravat, and putting on such a look of the prince that the latter might have thought he was standing before a mirror, ' as a poor imitator, I ought, properly, to wear only paste ! ' His imitations, however, were so approximate to reality that he sat for portraits of Thiers and Mole ; but Coulon's greatest triumph, in this way, was through a harder task. There was no efficient portrait extant of the deceased minister, Villele. G-ros was regretting this. 'Aye,' said Coulon, 'no likeness of him represents the pro- found subtlety of his character, and his evanes- cent expression.' As he said this, a living Villele seemed to stand before the artist, who then and there took from this singular personage, the well- COURT FOOLS AND JESTEB9. JANUARY 28. WINTEH EVENIXG. known portrait wliicli so truthfully represents the once famous statesman of the old Bourbon times. The only man who ever resembled Coulon at the court of France was Dufresnoy, the poet, playwright, actor, gardener, glass manufacturer, spendthrift, wit, and beggar. Louis XIV. valued him as Louis XVIII. valued Coulon, and many dramatists of his day used to ' book ' his loose, brilliant sayings, and reproduce them as original. His royal protector appointed him his honorary fool ; and it must be allowed that Dufresnoy had more of the old official about him than the refined and wealthy Coulon. The earlier jester, having got into debt with his washerwoman, settled the claim by making her his wife. It was a poor joke, and his wit seems to have suffered from it. He ventured, one day, to rally the Abbe Pelligrini on the soiled look of his linen. ' Sir,' said the piqued Abbe, ' it is not everyone who has the good luck to marry his laundress ! ' The joker was dumb ; and he stood no bad illustration of that line in Churchill, which speaks of men ' O'errun with wit and destitute of sense.' The combination of a serious with a jesting vocation was not at all uncommon at the court of liussia. In the household of the Czarina Elizabeth, Professor Stehlin, teacher of mathe- matics and history to the Grand Duke, after- wards Peter II., was also buffoon to his illustrious and imbecile pupil. This, indeed, was an olEce shared by all the young gentlemen of the Grand Duke's household, for they jumped to his humour, and danced to his fiddling, in his wife's bed-room, at all hours of the night, in all sorts of disguises, and to the accompaniment of most undignified figures of speech. The Czarina's own fool, Aksa- koff, was a mere stolid brute, who used to place mice and hedgehogs in his mistress's way, for no better reason than that the sight of those animals terrified her to death. The selfishness of this fellow is in strong contrast with the disinterested folly of poor Bluet d'Arberes, another of the few men who have joined earnestness of life with a fool's calling. At the beginning of the seven- teenth century, when the plague was devastating Paris, this heroic ex-fool to the Duke of Mantua conceived the heroicaUy-foolish idea, that the pestilence would be stayed, if he made sacrifice of his own life by way of expiation. Under this impression, he starved himself to death. It is certain that the Hanoverian family brought no official jesters with them" to England. The reason may be found in the assertion of Palmblad, that the fashion of keeping fools was going out of German courts when Ernest Augus- tus was Elector of Hanover. Yet this father of our George I. retained a buffoon— Burkard Kas- par Adelsburn— for two reasons ; as a remnant of good old German manners, and because the fashion was dying away in Erance, which country he just then detested. This jester exercised great influence over the Elector ; not merely in a witty, but also in a ghostly sense, for Burkard would ever and anon lecture his libertine sove- reign with all the freedom and earnestness of Whitefield when belabouring a reprobate collier. That the fashion lingered on in Germany is clear, from a letter written by Lady Feathcr- stonehaugh, in 1753, and quoted by Lady Chat- terton in the recent\y-])uh\iah.ed3IemonaIsofLord Gambler. The former lady writes from Dresden, and alludes to the court-doings of Frederick Augustus. ' In the evening,' she says, 'we were at the apartments of the Eoyal Family, and were much surprised at seeing an ancient custom kept up hero, and in no other court besides, except that of ]?russia, of keeping buffoons. There are no less than three at this court.' Nevertheless, when the official court fool ceased to be found in palace households, some princes began to be their own fools. This, however, is a portion of a subject which cannot here be entered upon. Sufficient for this article is the 'foUy' thereof. J. D. A surprise is felt that one of the Armstrongs — that border clan remarkable only for stouthreif— should have ever found his way to court, even in so equivocal a position as that of the King's Jester. The traditionary story on this point has been thus reported to us. A shepherd with the carcase of a sheep on his shoulders, was tracked by the officers of justice to a cottage in the moor- lands, where, however, they found no one but a vacant-looking lad, who sat rocking a cradle, ap- parently altogether unconscious of their object. Searching somewhat narrowly, they at length found that, instead of a baby, the carcase of the missing sheep occupied the cradle. No longer doubtmg that the rocker of the cradle was the delinquent, they seized and brought him to Jed- burgh, where King James VI. had just arrived to hold one of his justice aires. Condemned to die for his crime, Archie Arm- strong — for it was he — pleaded with the king that he was a poor ignorant man — he had heard of the Bible, and wished to read it through^ ■would his Highness please respite him till this should haA^e been, for his soul's weal, accomplished. The good-natured monarch granted the prayer, and Archie immediately rejoined with a sly look, ' Then deil tak me an I ever read a word o't. as lang as my een are open ! ' James saw from this that there was humour in the man, and had him brought to court. "WINTER EVENING. Winter : I love thee when the day is o'er, Spite of the tempest's outward roar ; Queen of the tranquil joys that weave The charm around the sudden eve ; The thick'ning footsteps thro' the gloom, TeUing of those we love come home ; The candles lit, the cheerful board, The dear domestic group restored ; The tire that shows the looks of glee. The infants standing at our knee ; The busy news, the sportive tongue, The laugh that makes us still feel young ; The health to those we love, that now Are far as ocean winds can blow ; The health to those who with us grew. And still stay with us tried and true ; The wife that makes life glide away. One long and lovely marriage day. Then music comes till — round us creep The infant list'ners half asleep; And busy tongues arc loud no more, And, Winter, thy sweet eve is o'er. — Anonymous. 185 ST GILDAS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SWEDENBOEG. JANUARY 29. St Sulpicius Severus. about 407. St Gildas, tlie Alba- nian or Scot, 512. St. Gildas, the Wise, or Badonicus, abbot (570?). St Francis of Sales, 1622. ST GILDAS. This saint, according to liis legend, was the son of Can, a king of the Britons of Alcliiyd or DunilKirton. and was born some time in the latter part of the fifth century. He was one of twenty- four brothers, the rest of whom were warriors, and were, with their father, usually at war with King Arthur. But Gildas, having shewn a dispo- sition for learning, was sent to the school of the Welsh saint Iltutus. He afterwards went to study in Gaul, whence he returned to Britain, and set up a school of his own in South "Wales. Subsequently, at the invitation of St Bridget, he visited Ireland, where he remained a long time, and founded several monasteries. He returned to England, bringing with him a wonderful bell, which he was carrying to the Pope ; and after having been reconciled with King Arthur, who had killed his eldest brother in battle, he proceeded on his journey to Kome. He went from Some to Ravenna, and on his way home stopped at Buys, in Brittany, which was so tempting a place for a hermit, that he deter- mined to remain there, andhefouuded amonastery, of which he was himself the first abbot. The Bretons pretended that he died there, and that they possessed his relics ; but, according to the Welsh legend, he returned to Wales, bringing back the wonderful bell, which was long preserved at Lancarvan, where he first took up his residence. He there became intimate with St Cadoc, and, having the same tastes, the two friends went to establish themselves as hermits in two desert islands, in the estuary of the Severn, and fixed upon those which are now known by the names of Steepholm and Elatholm, Gildas choosing the latter ; and here they remained until they were driven away by the attacks of the Northern pirates. Gildas then settled at Glastonbury, where he died, and was buried in the church of St Mary. Such is the outline of the story of St Gildas, which, in its details, is so full of inconsistencies and absurdities, that many writers have tried to solve tlie difficulty by supposing that there were two or several saints of the name of Gildas, whose histories have been mixed up together. They give to one the title of Gildas Badonicus, or the Historian, because, in the tracts attributed to him, he says that he was born in the year when King Arthur defeated the Saxons in the battle of Mount Badon, in Somersetshire ; the other they call Gildas the Albanian or Scot, supposing that he was the one who was born at Alcluyd. The first has also been called Gildas the Wise. Gildas is known as the author, or supposed author, of a book entitled De Excidio Britannice, consisting of a short and barren historical sketch of the history of the struggle between the Britons and the Picts andSaxons, and of adeclamatory epistle addressed to the British princes, reproaching them for their vices and misconduct, which are represented as the cause of the ruin of their country. Some 186 modern writers are of opinion that this book is itself a forgery, compiled in the latter half of the seventh century, amid the bitter disputes between the Anglo-Saxon and British churches ; and that, in the great eagerness of the middle ages to find saints, the name was seized upon with avidity ; and in different places where they wished to profit by possessing his relics, they composed legends of him, intended to justify their claim, which therefore agreed but partially with each other. Altogether, the legend of St Gildas is one of the most mysterious and con- trovertible in the whole Boman Calendar, and its only real interest arises from the circumstance of the existence of a book written in this island, and claiming so great an antiquity. ST FRANCIS OF SALES. If any one is at a loss to understand how so much of the influence which the Church of Rome lost in Europe at the Reformation was afterwards re- gained, let him read the Life of this remarkable man. Francis Count of Sales, near Annecy, throw rank and fortune behind his back, to devote him- self to the interests of religion. His humility of spirit, his austerities, his fervid devotion, gave him distiuction as a preacher at a comparatively early age. In his provostship at Geneva, his sermons were attended with extraordinary success. ' He delivered the word of God with a mixture of majesty and modesty ; had a sweet voice and an animated manner ; but what chiefly affected the hearts of his hearers, was the humility and unction with which he spoke from the abundance of his own heart.' He went about among the poor, treating them with a meekness and kindness which wonderfully gained upon them. To this, in a great degree, it was owing that he brought, as has been alleged, above seventy thousand of the Genevese Calvinists back to the Romish church. ^ Afterwards, in 1594, Francis and a cousin of his undertook a mission to Chablais, on the Lake of Geneva. On arriving at the frontiers, they sent back their horses, the more perfectly to imitate the apostles. The Catholic reHgio]i was here nearly extinct, and Francis found his task both difficult and dangerous. Nevertheless, in four years, his efforts began to have an effect, and soon after he had so gained over the people to his faith, that the Protestant forms were put down by the state. ' It is incredible,' says Butler, ' what fatigues and hardships he underwent in the course of this mission ; with what devotion and tears he daily recommended the work of God ; with what invincible courage he braved the greatest dangers ; with what meekness and patience he bore all manner of affronts and calumnies." St Francis de Sales died in 1622, at the age of fifty-six. Born. — Emmanuel de Svvedenborg, 1688-9; Thomas Paine, political writer, 1737 ; William Sharp, line-engraver, 1749, London. Z'jed— Emperor Aurelian, 275 ; Bishop Sanderson, 1663; John Theophilus Fichte, philosopher, 1814, Berlin; George III., 1820, Windsor; Agnes Berry, 1852; Mrs Gore, novelist, 1861. SWEDENBOKG. The life-history of Swedenborg is very remark- able for its complete division into two parts. 8WEDENB0EG. JANUAEY 29. GEOEGE lit. utterl}^ alien from eack other ; the first fifty-five years devoted to pure science and to official busi- ness under the King of Sweden, the last twenty- eight to spiritual mysticism and the foundation of a new religion. His voluminous works on the latter class of subjects, are generally felt to be unreadable. There can, however, be no reason- able doubt (as we believe) that the author was as sincere in his descriptions of the spiritual world as he had ever been in regard to the most material of his original studies. Perhaps, after all, there is some "psychological problem yet to be satisfactorily made out regarding such mys- tics as he, resolving all into some law at present unknown. A letter written by the celebrated philosopher Kant, in 1764, and which is published in his Works, gives the following curious details regard- ing Swedenborg, of whose possession of an ex- traordinary gift he considers it an indubitable proof. 'In the year 1756,' says he [the true date, however, was 1759], ' when M. de Sweden- borg, towards the end of February, on Saturday, at 4 o'clock p.m., arrived at Gottenburg from England, Mr William Costel invited him to his house, together with a party of fifteen persons. About 6 o'clock, M. de Swedenborg went out, and after a short interval returned to the company quite pale and alarmed. He said that a dan- gerous fire had broken out in Stockholm at the Suderhalm (Stockholm is about 300 miles from Gottenburg), and that it was spreading very fast. He was restless and went out often : he said that the house of one of his friends, whom he named, Avas already in ashes, and that his own was in danger. At 8 o'clock, after he had been out again, he joyfully exclaimed, "Thank God! the fire is extinguished the third door from my house." This news occasioned great commotion through the whole city, and particularly amongst the company in which he was. It was announced to the Governor the same evening. On the Sun- day morning, Swedenborg was sent for by the Governor, who questioned him concerning the disaster. Swedenborg described the fire pre- cisely, how it had begun, in what manner it had ceased, and how long it had continued. . . . On the Monday evening, a messenger arrived at Gottenburg, who was dispatched during the time of the fire. In the letters brought by him, the fire was described precisely in the manner stated by Swedenborg. On Tuesday morning, the royal courier arrived at the Governor's with the melan- choly intelligence of the fire, of the loss it had occasioned, and of the houses it had damaged and ruined, not in the least differing from that which Swedenborg had given immediately after it had ceased, for the fire was extinguished at 8 o'clock.' Kant adds : ' What can be brought forward against the authenticity of this occurrence ? My friend, who wrote this to me, has not only examined the circumstances of this extraordinary case at Stockholm, but also about two months ago, at Gottenburg, where he is acquainted witli the most respectable houses, and where he could obtain the most complete and authentic information.' GEORGE III. The death of George III. on this day in the year 1820, was an event of no political conse- quence, as for ten years he had been secluded under mental eclipse. But his people reflected with a feeling of not unkindly interest on his singularly long reign — so long it was that few remembered any other — on his venerable age — eighty-two — his irreproachable character as a family man — and the many remarkable things which had fallen out in his time. Amiable people of little reflection viewed him as ' the good old King,' the supporter of safe princi- ples in church and state, the friend of religion and virtue. Others of keener intelligence pointed to the vast amount of disaster which had been brought upon the country, mainly through his wrong judgment and obstinacy — the American colonies lost, a fatal interference with the con- cerns of France in 1793, an endangerment of the peace of the country through a persistent rejec- tion of the claim for Catholic emancipation. To these people the rule of George III. appeared to have been unhappy from the beginning. He had never ceased to struggle for an increase of the kingly authority. He could endure no minister who would not be subservient to him. Any officer who voted against his favourite ministers in par- liament, he marked in a black-list which he kept, and either dismissed him at once or stopped his promotion. A particular cohort amounting to fifteen or twenty in the House of Commons, were recognised as ' the King's Friends,' from the readiness they shewed to do his bidding and act for his interest on all occasions ; and this uncon- stitutional arrangement was calmly submitted to. A great deal of what was amiss in the king's system of government might be traced to mis- education under a bad mother, who continually dinned into his ear, ' George, he a king I ' and preceptors who were disaffected to Revolution principles. Like other weak men, he could not understand a conscientious dissent from his own opinion. He argued thus : — ' I think so and so, and I am conscientious in thinking so : ergo, anj other opinion must be unconscientious.' It is perfectly certain, accordingly, that he looked upon Mr Fox, and the Whigs generally, as base and profligate men — his son included in the number ; and adhered to the policy which cost him America under a perfect conviction that only worthless people could sympathise with the claims of the disaffected colonists. It is, on the other hand, remarkable of the king, that whenever resistance reached the point where it became clearly dangerous, he gave way. After he had conceded peace and independence to America, there was something heroic in his reception of Mr Adams, the first ambassador of the new republic, when he said that, though he had been the last man in England to resolve on the pacifi- cation, he should also be the last to seek to break it. The mistaken policy which inflicted such wretchedness on the patriots in America, is in some measure redeemed by his grateful gene- rosity to the loyalists. It was found after his death, that he had, all through the war, kept a private register, in which he entered the name of 187 GEORGE III. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LOET) METCALFE. any one who sutlorcd for his loyalty to Great Britain, ami full particulars re£;anliiii; liira, that he niiijht, as far as possible, atl'ord him com- pensation. One is struck by the EngJish charac- ter of King George — Knglish in his doggeducss and his prejudices, but equally English in his conscientiousness and his frankness, it is strange to rcllect on the evils incurred by the United Kingdom through the accident of her Avrong- headed ruler being a virtuous man. Had that latter particular been revei-scd, such huge political aberrations would have been impossible. ^Ir Thackeray, in his Lectures on the Four Georges, touches on the last days of the third with a pathos rarely reached in modern litera- ture. Ihe passage is a gem of exquisite beauty. ' I have,' says he, ' seen his picture as it was taken at this time, hanging in the apartment of his daughter, the Landgravine of Hesse Hom- bourg — amidst books and Windsor furniture, and a hundred fond reminiscences of her English home. The poor old father is represented in a purple gown, his snowy beard falling over his breast — the star of his fiunous Order still idly shin- ing on it. He was not only sightless : he became utterly deaf. All light, all reason, all sound of human voices, all the pleasures of this world of God, were taken from him. Some slight lucid moments he had ; in one of which, the queen, desiring to see him, found him singing a hymn, and accompanying himself on the harpsichord. AVheuhehad finished, he knelt down and prayed aloud for her, and then for his family, and then for tlie nation, concluding with a prayer for him- self, that it might please God to avert his heavy calamity from him, but, if not, to give him resig- nation to submit. He then burst into tears, and Lis reason again fled. ' AVhat preacher need moralise on this story ; what words save the simplest are requisite to tell it? It is too terrible for tears. The thought of such a misery smites me down in submission before the Euler of kings and men, the Monarch supreme over empires and republics, the in- scrutable Dispenser of life, death, happiness, victory. " O brothers," I said to those who heard me first in America—" O brothers ! speak- ing the same dear mother tongue— O comrades, enemies no more, let us take a mournful hand together as we stand by this i-oyal corpse, and call a truce to battle ! Low he lies to whom the proudest used to kneel once, and who was cast lower than the poorest : dead, whom millions praj^ed for in vain. Driven off his throne ; buffeted by rude hands, with his children in revolt ; the darling of his old age killed before him untimely ; our Lear hangs over her breath- less lips and cries, " Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a Httle!" ^ " Ve.x not his ghost— oh ! let liim pass — lie hates him, That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer ! " Hush ! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn grave. Sound, trumpets, a mournful march ! lall, dark curtain, upon his pageant, his pride, ms grief, his awful tragedy !' 188 JANUARY 30. St Barsimreus, bishop and martyr, 2iid century. St ]\Inrtina, virgin and martyr, 3rd century, St Aldegon- des, virgin and abbess, 6G0. St Bathildes, queen of France, 680. Born. — Cliarles Rollin, 1661, Paris; Walter Savage Lander, 1775 ; Charles Lord Metcalfe, 1785. Died — Willirtm Cliillingworth, 1644 ; King Charles L, 1649 ; Dr John Rubison, mechanical philosopher, 1805. LORD ]\IETCALFE. Cliarles Metcalfe — raised at the close of a long official life to the dignity of a peer of the realm — was a notable example of that kind of English- man, of whom Wellington was the type, — modest, steady, well-intending, faithful to his country and to his employers ; in a word, the devotee of duty. A great part of his life was spent in India — some years were given to Jamaica — finally, he took the government of Canada. There, when enjoying at fifty-nine the announcement of his peerage, he was beset by a cruel disease. His biographer Mr Kaye tells us — ' One correspondent recom- mended Mesmerism, which had cured Miss Mar- tineau ; another, Hydropathy, at the " pure springs of Malvern ;" a third, an application of the com- mon dock-leaf; a fourth, an infusion of couch grass ; a fifth, the baths of Dochorte, near Vienna ; a si.xth, the volcanic hot springs of Karlsbad ; a seventh, a wonderful plaster, made of rose-leaves, olive oil, and turnip juice ; an eighth, a plaster and powder in which some part of a young frog was a principal ingredient ; a ninth, a mixture of copperas and vinegar ; a tenth, an application of pure ox-gall ; an eleventh, a mixture of Florence oil and red precipitate ; whilst a twelfth was cer- tain of the good effects of Homoeopathy, Mhich had cured the well-known " Charlotte Elizabeth." Besides these varied remedies, many men and women, with infallible recipes or certain modes of treatment, were recommended to him by them- selves and others. Learned Italian professors, mysterious American women, erudite Germans, and obscure Irish quacks — all had cured cancers of twenty years' standing, and all were press- ing, or pressed forward, to opei-ate on Lord Metcalfe.' The epitaph written upon Lord Metcalfe by Lord Macaulay gives his worthy career and some- thing of his character in words tliat could not be surpassed : ' Near this stone is laid Charles Theophilus, first and last Lord Metcalfe, a statesman tried in many high posts and difficult conjunctures, and found equal to all. The three greatest depen- dencies of the British crown were successively entrusted to his care. In India his fortitude, his wisdom, his probity, and his moderation are held in honourable remembrance by men of many races, languages, and religions. In Jamaica, still convulsed by a social revolution, he calmed the evil passions which long-suffering had engendered in one class, and long domination in another. In Canada, not yet recovered from the calamities of civil war, he reconciled contend- ing factions to each other and to the mother coun- EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. JANUARY 30. EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. try. Public esteem was the just reward of his public virtue ; but those only who enjoyed the privilege of his friendship could appreciate the whole worth of his gentle and noble nature. Costly monuments in Asiatic and American cities attest the gratitude of nations which he ruled ; this tablet records the sorrow and the pride with which his memory is cherished by private affec- tion. He was born the 30th day of January 1785. He died the 5th day of September 181G.' EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. Though the anniversary of the execution of Charles I. is very justly no longer celebrated with religious ceremonies in England, one can scarcely on any occasion allow the day to pass without a feeling of j^athetic interest in the subject. The meek behaviour of the King in his latter days, his tender interviews with his little children when parting with them for ever, the insults he bore so well, his calmness at the last on the scaffold, combine to make us think leniently of his arbi- trary rule, his high-handed proceedings with Nonconformists, and even his falseness towards the various opposing parties he had to deal with. AVhen we further take into account the piety of his meditations as exhibited in the Eilcoii Basilike, we can scarcely wonder that a very large propor- tion of the people of England, of his own genera- tion, regarded him as a kind of martyr, and cherished his memory with the most affectionate regard. Of the highly inexpedient nature of the action, it is of no use to speak, as its consequences in causing retaliation and creating a reaction for arbitrary rule, are only too notorious. Charles was put to death upon a scaffold raised in front of the Banqueting House, Whitehall. There is reason to believe that he was conducted to this sad stage through a window, from which the frame had been taken out, at the north ex- tremity of the building near the gate. It was not so much elevated above the street, but that he could hear people weeping and praying for him below. A view of the dismal scene was taken at the time, engraved, and published in Holland, and of this a transcript is here presented. EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. The scaffold, as is well known, was graced that day by two executioners in masks ; and as to the one who used the axe a question has arisen, who was he .'' The public seems to have been kept in ignorance on this point at the time ; had it been otherwise, he could not have long escaped the daggers of the royalists. Immediately after the Restoration, the Government made an effort to discover the masked headsman ; but we do not learn that they ever succeeded. William Lilly, the famous astrologer, having dropped a hint that he knew something on the subject, was examined before a parliamentary committee at that time, and gave the following information : ' The next Sunday but one after Charles the First was beheaded, Robert Spavin, Secretary unto Lieutenant-General Cromwell, invited him- self to dine with me, and brought Anthony Peir- son and several others along with him to dinner. Their principal discourse all dinner-time was only, who it was that beheaded the King. One said it was the common hangman ; another, Hugh Peters ; others were nominated, but none con- cluded. Robert Spavin, so soon as dinner was done, took me to the south window. Saith he, " These are all mistaken ; they have not named the man that did the fact : it was Lieutenant- Colonel Joyce. I was in the room when he fitted himself for the work^stood behind liim when he did it — when done went in again with him. There's no man knows this but my master (viz. Cromwell), Commissary Ireton, and myself." '•Doth not Mr Rushworth know it?" said I. "No, he doth not," saith Spavin. The same thing Spavin since had often related to me when we were alone. Mr Prynne did, with much civility, make a report hereof in the house.'* Nevertheless, the probability is that the King's head was in reality cut off by the ordinary execu- tioner, Richard Brandon. When, after the Resto- ration, an attempt was made to fix the guilt on one William Ilulctt, the following evidence was given * Lill)''s History of his Life and Times, ed. 1715, p. 89. EXECUTION OF CHARI.E9 I. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EXECUTIOK OF CHAELES I. in liis dofenco, and there ia nmch reason to believe that it states the truth. ' When my Lord CapcU, Puke Hamilton, and the :i<]arl of Holland, were beheaded in the Tahu-e ^'ard. Westminster [soon after the Kins ', my Lord Capell asked the common hangman, " Did yon ent oil' my master's head ? " " Yes." saith he. " Where is the instrument that did it ? " He then brought the axe'. " Is tins tlie same axe ? are you sure ?" said my lord. '• Yes, my lord," saith the hangman ; " I am very sure it is the same." My Lord CapeU took the axe and kissed it, and gave him five pieces of gold. I heard him say, " Sirrah, wert thou not afraid?" Saith the hangman, " They made me cut it off, and I had thirty pounds for my pains."' We have engraved two of the relics associated with this solemn event in our history. First is the Bible believed to have been used by Charles, just previous to his death, and which the King is said to have presented to Bishop Juxon, though KING CHARLES I.'S BIBLE. this circumstance is not mentioned in any con- temporaneous account of the execution. Tlie only notice of such a volume, as a dying gift, appears to be that recorded by Sir Thomas Herbert, in his narrative, which forms a part of The Memoirs of the last Two Years of the Beigii of that unparalleled Prince, of ever-blessed memory. King Charles I.; London, 1702, p. 129, in the following passage :— ' The King thereupon gave him his hand to kiss, having the day before been graciously pleased, under liis royal hand, to give him a certificate, that the said Mr Herbert was not imposed upon him, but by his Majesty made choice of to attend him in his bedchamber, and had served him with faithfulness and loyal affec- tion. His Majesty also delivered him his Bible, in the margin whereof he had, with his own hand, written many annotations and quotations, and charged him to give it to the Prince so soon as he returned.' _ That this might be the book above represented is rendered extremely probable, on the assumption that the King would be naturally anxious that his son should possess that very copy of the Scriptures which had been provided for himself when he was Prince of Wales. It will be observed that the cover of the Bible is deco- rated with the badge of the Principality within the Grarter, surmounted by a royal coronet (in sUver gilt), enclosed by an embroidered border ; 190 the initial P. being apparently altered to an E.., and the badges of the Hose and Thistle upon a ground of blue velvet : the book was, therefore, bound between the death of Prince Henry, in 1612, and the accession of Charles to the throne in 1625, when such a coronet would be no longer used by him. If the Bible here represented be that referred to by Herbert, the circumstance of Bishop Juxon becoming the possessor of it might be accounted for by supposing that it was placed in his hands to be transmitted to Charles II., with the George of the Order of the Garter belonging to the late King, well known to have been given to that prelate upon the scaffold. The Bible was, when Mr Boach Smith wrote the above details in his Collectanea Antiqua, in the pos- session of James Skene, Esq, of Rubislaw.* Next is engraved the sdver clock-watch, which had long been used by King Charles, and was given by him to Sir Thomas Herbert, on the morning of his execution. The face is beauti- fully engraved ; and the back and rim are elabo- rately chased, and pierced with foliage and scroU- work. It has descended as an heir-loom to William Townley Mitford, Esq. ; and from its undoubted * Mr. Skene, the last survivor of the six friends to ■whom Sir Walter Scott dedicated the respective oantoes o{ Marmion, now (1862) resides in Oxford. EXECUTION OF CHAELES I. JANUAEY 30. EXECUTION OF CHAELES I. genuineness must be considered as one of the most intei'esting relics of the monarch. The body of the unfortunate King was em- balmed immediately after the execution, and taken to Windsor to be interred. A small group of his friends, including his relative the Duke of Sichmond, was permitted by Parliament to conduct a funeral which should not cost above five hundred pounds. Disdaining an ordinary grave, which had been dug for the King in the KING CHARLES T. S WATCU. floor of the chapel, they found a vault in the centre of the quire, containing two coffins, be- lieved to be those of Henry VIII. and his queen Jane Seymour ; and there his coffin was placed, with no ceremony beyond the tears of the mourners, the Funeral Service being then under prohibition. The words ' King Charles, 1648,' inscribed on the outside of the outer wooden coffin, alone marked the remains of the unfortu- nate monarch. These sad rites were paid at tliree in the afternoon of the 19th of February, three weeks after the execution. The coffin of King Charles was seen in the reign of William III., on the vault being opened to receive one of the Princess Anne's children. It remained unobserved, forgotten, and a matter of doubt for upwards of a century thereafter, till, in 1813, the vault had once more to be opened for the funeral of the Duchess of Bi'unswick. On the 1st of April, the day after the interment of that princess, the Prince Regent, the Duke of Cumberland, the Dean of Windsor, Sir Harry Halford, and two other gentlemen assembled at the vau.lt, while a search was made for the remains of King Charles. The leaden coffin, with the inscription, was soon found, and partially opened, when the body of the decapitated king was found tolerably entire and in good condition, amidst the gums and resins which had been employed in preserving it. 'At length the whole face was dis- engaged from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discoloured. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance ; tlic cartilage of the nose was gone ; but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished almost immediately : and the pointed beard, so characteristic of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval ; many of the teeth remained When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view The back part of the scalp was perfect, and had a remark- ably fresh appearance; the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are when soaked iu moisture ; and the tendons and filaments of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. The hair was thick at the back part of the head, and, in appearance, nearly black. . . . On holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably; and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance, transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions pei'fectly smooth and even.' * The first Lord Holland used to relate, with some pleasantly, a usage of his father, Sir Stephen Fox, which proves the superstitious veneration in which the Tories held the memory of Charles I. During the whole of the 30th of January, the wainscot oftlie house vsed to he huncf tvith hlaclc, and no meal of any sort was allowed till after midnight. This attempt at rendering the day melancholy by fasting had a directly con- trary eff'ect on the children ; for the housekeeper, apprehensive that they might sufier from so long an abstinence from food, used to give the little folks clandestinely as many comfits and sweet- meats as they could eat, and Sir Stephen's in- * Sir Henry Halford's Account of what appeared on opening the coffin of King Charles I., &c. 1813. 191 EXECUTION OF CHAKLES I. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE CALVES'-HEAD CLTJB tended feast was looked to by the younger part of the familv as a holiday and diversion.— Cor- reitponhiicc of C. J. Fo.r, edited hj/ Jurrl SksscU. There is a storv told regarding a Miss lIusscU, preat-srrand-daughtcr of Oliver Cromwell, who was waitins^-womau to the Princess Amelia, daugh- ter of Georcje II., to the eflect that, while en- gaijed in her duty one 30th of January, the Prince of AVales came into the room, and sportively said, 'For shame. Miss Eussell! why have you not been at church, humbling yourself with weepings and wailings for the sins on this day committed by your ancestor ? ' To which Miss Eussell an- swered, ' Sir, for a descendant of the great Oliver Cromwell, it is humiliation sufficient to be employed, as I am, in pinning up the tail of your sister ! ' — Redes Anecdotes, 1799. S^Ije Calf)ts'-inij Club. The Genihmaiis Magazine for 1735, vol. v., p. 105, under the date of January 30, gives the following piece of intelligence :— ' Some young noblemen and gentlemen met at a tavern in SuUblk Street [Charing Cross], called theni- selves the Calves'-Head Club, dressed up a calf's head in a napkin, and after some huzzas threw it into a bonfire, and dipt napkins in their red wine and waved them out at window. The niob had strong beer given them, and for a time hallooed as well as the best, but taking disgust at some healths proposed, grew so outrageous that they broke all the windows, and forced them- selves into the house ; but the guards being sent for, prevented further mischief.' The Weekly Chronicle, of February 1, 1735, states that the THE calves' -HEAD CLUB. damage was estimated at ' some hundred pounds,' and that ' the guards were posted all night in the street, for the security of the neigh- 192 bourhood.' Horace Walpole says the mob destroyed part of the house. Sir William (called HeUfire) Stanhope was one of the mem- THE CALVES -HEAD CLUB. JANUARY 30. THE CALVES -HEAD CLUB. bers. This riotous occurrence was the occasion of some verses in The Gnib Street Journal, of which the following lines may be quoted as throwing some additional light on the scene : ' Strange times ! when noble jiecrs, secure from riot, Can't keep Noll's annual festival in quiet, Through sashes broke, dirt, stones, and brands thrown at 'em, Which, if not scand- was brand- alrnn magnatum. Forced to run down to vaults for safer C[iiarters, And in coal-holes their ribbons hide and garters.' The manner iu which Noll's (Oliver Crom- well's) ' annual festival ' is here alluded to, seems to shew that the bonfire, with the calfs- head and other accomj^animents, had been ex- hibited iu previous years. In confirmation of this fact, there exists a print entitled The True Ejficjies of the Members of the Calves - Head Club, held on the 'iOth of Jamtary 1734, in Suffolk Street, in the County of Middlesex ; being the year before the riotous occurrence above related. This print, as will be observed in the copy above given, shews a bonfire in the centre of the foreground, with the mob ; in the background, a house with three windows, the central window exhibiting two men, one of whom is about to thi'ow the calf's-head into the bon- fire below. The window on the right shews three persons drinking healths, that on the left two other persons, one of whom wears a mask, and has an axe in his hand. It is a singular fact that a political club of this revolutionary character should have been in exist- ence at so late a period as the eighth year of the reign of George II. We find no mention of it for many years preceding this time, and after the riot it was probably broken up. The first notice that we find of this strange club is in a small quarto tract of twenty-two pages, which has been reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany. It is entitled The Secret History of the Calves-Head Club; or, the Bepublican' un- mask'd. IVherein is fully shewn the Iteligion of the Calves-Head Heroes, in their Anniversary Thanksgiving Songs on the ZOth of January, by them called Anthems, for the Years 1693, 1694, 1695, 1696, 1697. Noiv published to demonstrate the restless implacable Sjririt of a certain Party still amongst us, who are never to be satisfied utiiil the -present JEstablishment in Church and State is subverted. The Second Edition. London, 1703. The Secret History, which occupies less than half of the twenty-two images, is vague and unsatis- factory, and the live songs or anthems are entirely devoid of literary or any other merit. As Queen Aime commenced her reign in March 1702, and the second edition of this tract is dated 1703, it may be presumed that the first edition was published at the beginning of the Queen's reign. The author states, that ' after the Resto- ration the eyes of the Government being upon the whole party, they were obliged to meet Avith a great deal of precaution, but now they meet almost in a pul)lic manner, and apprehend no- thing.' Yet all the evidence which he produces concerning their meetings is hearsay. lie had never himself been present at the club. He states, that ' happening in the late reign to be in company of a certain active Whig,' tho said Whi'' 13 informed him that he knew most of the members of the club, and had been often invited to their meetings, but had never attended : ' that Milton and other creatures of the Commonwealth had instituted this club (as he was informed) in opposition to Bishop Juxon, Dr Sanderson, Dr Hammond, and other divines of the Church of England, who met privately every 30th of Janu- ary, and though it was under the time of the usurpation had compiled a private form of service of the day, not much difi'erent from what we now find in the Liturgy.' From this statement it appears that the author's friend, though a Whig, had no personal knowledge of the club. The slanderous rumour about Milton may be passed over as unworthy of notice, this untrustworthy tract being the only authority for it. But the author of the Secret History has more evidence to produce. ' By another gentleman, who, about eight years ago, went, out of mere curiosity, to their club, and has since furnished me with the following papers [the songs or an- thems], I was informed that it was kept in no fixed house, but that they removed as they saw convenient ; that the place they met in when he was with them was in a blind alley about Moor- fields ; that the company wholly consisted of Independents and Anabaptists (I am glad, for the honour of the Presbyterians, to set down this remark) ; that the famous Jerry White, formerly chaplain to Oliver Cromwell (who, no doubt of it, came to sanctify with his pious exhortations the ribaldry of the day), said grace ; that, after the cloth was removed, the anniversary anthem, as they impiously called it, was sung, and a calf's skull filled with wine, or other liquor, and then a brimmer, went round to the pious memory of those worthy patriots who had killed the tyrant, and delivered the country from his arbitrary sway.' Such is the story told iu the edition of 1703 ; but in the edition of 1713, after the word Moorfields, the narrative is continued as follows : • — ' where an axe was hung \ip in the club-room, and was reverenced as a principal symbol in this diabolical sacrament. Their bill of faro was a large dish of calves'-heads, di-essed several ways, by which they represented the king, and his friends who had suffered in his cause ; a large pike with a small one in his mouth, as an emblem of tyranny ; a large cod's head, by which they pretended to represent the person of the king singly ; a boar's head, with an apple in its mouth, to represent the king. . . . After the rejDast was over, one of their elders presented an Ikon BasiUke, which was with great solemnity burned upon the table, whilst the anthems were singing. After this, another produced Milton's DcJ'ensio Fopuli Anglicani, upon which all laid their hands, and made a protestation, in form of an oath, for ever to stand by and maintain the same. The company whoUy consisted of Ana- baptists,' &c. As a specimen of the verses, the following stanzas may be quoted from the anthem for 1696, in reference to Charles I. : — ' This monarch wore a peaked beard, And seemed a doughty hero, A Dioclesian innocent, And merciful as Nero. 193 MEMOraALS OF CUAKLES I. THE BOOK OF DAYS. convivial clubs in lancashiee. « Tho Churcli's darling implement, And seours^o of all the people, lie swore he'd make each mother's son Adore their idol steeple ; ' But thev, percei\'ing his designs, Grew" plaguy shy and jealoiis. And timely'ohopt his calf's head off, And sent him to his fellows.' This tract appears to have excited the curiosity of the public in no small degree; for it passed, with many augmentations as valueless as_ the original trash, through no less than nine editions. The lifth edition, published in 1705, contains three additional songs, and is further augmented by 'Ecllections ' on each of the eight songs, and by ' A Vindication of the lioyal Martyr Charles the First, ■wherciu are laid open the Eepublicans' Mysteries of Eebellion, written in the time of the Usurpation by the celebrated Mr Butler, author of Iliidibras ; with a Character of a Presby- terian, by Sir John Denham, Knight.' To a certainty the author of HucUhras uever wrote anything so stupid as this ' Vindication,' nor the author of Coo_per''s Sill the dull verses here ascribed to him. The sixth edition is a reprint of the fifth, but has an engraving representing the members of the club seated at a table furnished with dishes such as are described in the extract above quoted, and with the axe hung up against the wainscot. A man in a priest's dress is saying grace, and four other persons are seated near him, two on each side ; two others seem by their_ dress to be men of rank. A black personage, with horns ou his head, is looking in at the door from behind ; and a female figm-e, with snakes among her hair, pro- bably representing EebeUion, is looking out from under the table. The eighth edition, published in 1713, contains seven engravings, including the one just de- scribed, and the text is augmented to 224 pages. The additional matter consists of the following articles : — ' An Appendix to the Secret History of the Calf's Head Club;' ' Eemarkable Accidents and Transactions at the Calf's Head Club, by way of Continuation of the Secret History there- of,' — these ' Accidents ' extend over the years 1708-12, and consist of narratives apparently got up for the purpose of exciting the public and selling the book ; ' Select Observations of the "Whigs ;' ' Policy and Conduct in and out of Power.' Lowndes mentions another edition pub- lished in 1716. Hearne teUs us that on the 30th January 1706-7, some young men in All Souls' College, Oxford, dined together at twelve o'clock, and amused themselves with cutting off the heads of a number of woodcocks, ' in contempt of the me- mory of the blessed martyr.' They had tried to get calves'-heads, but the cook refused to dress them.* MEMORIALS OF CHARLES I. It is pleasanter to contemplate the feelings of tenderness and veneration than those of contempt and anger. We experience a relief in turning from the coarse doings of the Calves'-Head Club, * Reliquiae HearnianEe, i. 121. 191 to look on the affectionate grief of those who, on however fallacious grounds, mourned for the royal martyr. It is understood that there were seven mourning rings distributed among the more intimate friends of the unfortunate king, and one of them was latterly in the possession of Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill, being a gift to him from Lady JMurray Elliott. The stone presents tlie profile of the king in miniature. On the obverse of this, within, is a deatli's head, sur- mounting a crown, with a crown of glory above ; fianked by the words, Gloeia — V ANITAS ; whilo round the interior runs the legend, Gloria Ang. JEmi- gravit, Ja. the 30, 1648. There are also extant several examples of a small silver case or locket, in the form of a heart, which may be presumed each to have been suspended near the heart of some devoted and tearful loyalist. In the example here presented, there is an en- graved profile head of the king within, oppo- site to which, on the inside of the lid, is in- cribed, 'Prepared he to folloio me, C.E.' On one of the exterior sides is a heart stuck through with arrows, and the legend, ' I Hue and dy in loijaUye.' On the other exterior side is an eyo dropping tears, surmounted by ' Quis temperet a lacrymis, January 30, 1648.' Other examples of this mourning locket have slight variations in the ornaments and legends. CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. What is a club ? A voluntary association of persons for a common object, and contributing equally to a common purse. The etymology of the word is a puzzle. Some derive it from the Anglo-Saxon cleofan, to cleave, q. d. the members ' stick together ; ' but this seems a little far- CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. JANUAEY 30. CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. fetched. Others consider it as from the Welsh verb clapiaw, to form into a lump ; or to join together for a common end. Wheucesoever our name for it, the institution is ancient ; it was known among the ancient Greeks, every member contributing his share of the expenses. They had even their benefit-clubs, with a common chest, and monthly payments for the benefit of members in distress. Our Anglo-Saxon fore- fathers had like confederations, only they called them gijlds or guilds, from gyldan, to pay, to con- tribute a share. Eeligious guilds were succeeded by trade guilds and benevolent guilds, which were a sort of sick and burial clubs, some of which still survive. The club convivial, in essence if not in name, has always been a cherished institution amongst us. "We need only name the Mermaid, of the time of Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, and their fellows. It would be an interesting inquiry to trace the succession of such clubs, in the metropolis alone, from the days of Elizabeth to those of Anne ; the clubs of the latter period being so delightfully pictured to us by Addison, Steele, and others of their members. From the coffee-house clubs of the time of Charles II., including the King's Head or Green Eibbon Club of the Shaftesbury clique, — it would be curious to trace the gradual de- velopment of the London clubs, into their present palatial homes at the West-end. But our task is a much more limited one. We wish to per- petuate a few of the fast-fading features of some of these institutions in a northern shire, — clubs in which what Carlyle terms the ' nexus ' was a love of what was called ' good eating and drink- ing, and good fellowship.' What its inhabitants designate ' the good old town' of Liverpool might naturally be expected, as the great seaport of Lancashire, to stand pre- eminent in its convivial clubs. But we must confess we have been unable to find any very distinct vestiges, or even indications, of such institutions having once enjoyed there * a local habitation and a name.' To deny to the inhabi- tants of Liverpool, the social character and con- vivial habits out of which such clubs naturally spring, would be to do them a great injustice. But the only peep we get into their habits in the latter half of the 18th century, is that afforded by some published Letters to the Earl of Cork, written by Samuel Derrick, Esq., then Master of the Ceremonies at Bath, after a visit to Liverpool in 1767. After describing the fortnightly assem- blies, ' to dance and play cards ; ' the perform- ances at the one theatre which then sufficed ; the good and cheap entertainment provided for at Liverpool's three inns, where 'for tenpence a man dines elegantly at an ordinary consisting of a dozen dishes,' — Mr Derrick lauds the private hospitality which he enjoyed, and the good fellow- ship he saw : ' If by accident one man's stock of ale runs short, he has only to send his pitcher to his neighbour to have it filled.' He celebrates the good ale of Mr Thomas Mears, of Paradise- street, a merchant in the Portuguese trade, 'whose malt was bought at Derby, his hops in Kent, and Ills water brought by express order from Lisbon.' ' It was, indeed,' says Derrick, ' an excellent liquor.' He speaks of the tables of the mer- chants as being plenteously furnished with viands well served up, and adds that, ' of their excellent rum they consumed large quantities in punch, when the West India fleet came in mostly with limes,' which he praises as being ' very cooling, and affording a delicious flavour.'* Still, these are the tipplings around the private ' mahogany,' if such a material were then used for the festive board ; and Mr Derrick nowhere narrates a visit to a club. Indeed, the only relic of such an assemblage is to be found in a confederation which existed in Liverpool for some time about the middle of the 18th century. Its title was * The Society of Bucks.' It seems to have been principally convivial, though to some slight extent of a political complexion. On Monday, 4th June 1759, they advertise a celebra- tion of the birthday of George Prince of Wales, (afterwards George III.) On Wednesday, July 25, their anniversary meeting is held ' by the command of the grand,' — (a phrase borrowed from the Ereemasons) — dinner on the table at two o'clock. On August 3, they command a play at the theatre ; and on the 8th Eebruary 1760, the Society is recorded as 'having generously subscribed £70 towards clothing our brave troops abroad, and the relief of the widows and orphans of those who feU nobly in their country's and liberty's cause. This is the second laudable sub- scription made by them, as they had some time since remitted 50 guineas to the Marine Society.' From an early period in the 18th century, the amusements of the inhabitants of Manchester consisted of cards, balls, theatrical perform- ances, and concerts. About 1720 a wealthy lady named Madam Drake, who kept one of the three or four private carriages then exist- ing in the town, refused to conform to the new-fashioned beverages of tea and coffee ; so that, whenever she made an afternoon's visit, her friends ]Dresented her with that to which she had been accustomed, — a tankard of ale and a pipe of tobacco ! The usual entertain- ment at gentlemen's houses at that period in- cluded wet and dry sweetmeats, different sorts of cake and gingerbread, apples, or other fruits of the season, and a variety of home-made wines, the manufacture of which was a great point with all good housewives. They made an essential part of all feasts, and were brought forth when the London or Bristol dealers came down to settle their accounts with the Manchester manufacturers, and to give orders. A young manufacturer about this time, having a valuable customer to sup with him, sent to the tavern for a pint of foreign wine, which next morning fur- nished a subject for the sarcastic remarks of all his neighbours. About this period there was an evening club of the most opulent manufacturers, at which the expenses of each person were fixed at 4|d. ; viz., 4d. for ale, and a halfpenny for tobacco. At a much later period, however, six- pennyworth of punch, and a pipe or two, were esteemed fully sufficient for the evening's tavern amusement of the principal inhabitants. After describing a common public-house in which a * Derrick's Letters from Ciiester, Liverpool, &c. 195 CONVIVIAL CLITBS IX LANCASHIRE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. larijo number of rcspoc-tablo Maiiclicstcr tracles- meu met every day after dinner,— the rule being to eall for six-in'miyworth of ])uneli, tlie amuse- ment to drink and smoke and discuss the news of the towu, it being liigh 'change at six o'clock and the evening's sitting peremptorily terminated at v^ p_m.^_tho writer we are quoting adds, 'To a stranger it is very extraordinary, that merchants of the first fortunes quit the elegant drawing- room, to sit in a small, dark dungeon, for this house cannot with propriety be called by a better jj.^H^e — i)ut such is the force of long-established custom!'* The club wlilch originated at the house just de- scribed has some features sufficiently curious to be noted as a picture of tlie time. A man named John Shaw, who had served in the army as a dragoon, having lost his wife and four or five children, solaced himself by opening a public-house in the Old Shambles, Manchester; in conducting which he was ably supported by a sturdy woman servant of middle age, whose only known name was 'Molly.' John Shaw, having been much abroad, had acquired a knack of brewing punch, then a favourite beverage ; and from this attraction, his house soon began to be frequented by the prin- cipal merchants and manufacturers of the town, and to be known as 'John Shaw's Punch-hovise.' Sign it had none. As Dr Aikiu says in 1795 that Shaw had then kept the house more than fifty years, we have here an institution dating prior to the memorable '45. Having made a comfortable competence, John Shaw, who was a lover of early hours, and, probably from his military training, a martinet in discipline, insti- tuted the singular rule of closing his house to customers at eight o'clock in the evening. As soon as the clock struck the lioiir, John walked into the one pubUc room of the house, and in a loud voice and imperative tone, pi'oclaimed 'Eight o'clock, gentlemen; eight o'clock.' After this no entreaties for more liquor, however urgent or suppliant, could prevail over the inexorable land- lord. If the announcement of the hour did not at once produce the desired effect, John had two modes of summary ejectment. He would call to Molly to bring his horsewhip, and crack it in the ears and near the persons of his guests ; and should this fail, Molly was ordered to bring her pail, with which she speedily flooded the floor, and drove the guests out wet-shod. On one occasion of a county election, when Colonel Stanley was retuimed, the gentleman took some friends to John Shaw's to give them a treat. At eight o'clock John came into the room and loudly announced the hour as usual. Colonel Stanley said he hoped Mr Shaw would not press the matter on that occasion, as it was a special one, but would allow him and his friends to take another bowl of punch. John's characteristic rej)ly was : — ' Colonel Stanley, you are a law- maker, and should not be a law-breaker ; and if you and your friends do not leave the room in five muiutes, you will find your shoes full of ■water.' 'Within that time the old servant, Molly, came in with mop and bucket, and the repre- sentative for Lancashire and his friends retired * Dr Aikin's Description of tho Country from thirty to forty miles round Slanchester. 196 in dismay before this prototype of Dame Parting- ton. After this eight o'clock law was established, John Shaw's was more than ever resorted to. Some of the elderly gentlemen, of regular habits, and perhaps of more leisure than their juniors, used to meet there at four o'clock in the after- noon, which they called ' watering time,' to spend each his sixpence, and then go home to tea with their wives and families about five o'clock. But from seven to eight o'clock in the evening was the hour of high 'change at John Shaw's; for then all the frequenters of the house had had tea, had finished the labours of the day, closed their mills, warehouses, places of business, and were free to enjoy a social hour. Tradition says that the punch' brewed by John Shaw was some- thing vei-y delicious. In mixing it, he used a long-shanked silver table-spoon, like a modern gravy-spoon ; which, for convenience, he carried in a side pocket, like that in which a carpenter carries his two-foot rule. Punch was usually served in small bowls (that is, less than the ' crown bowls ' of later days) of two sizes and prices ; a shilling bowl being termed ' a P of punch,' — ' a Q of punch ' denoting a sixpenny bowl. The origin of these slang names is un- known. Can it have any reference to the old saying — 'Mind your P's and Q's.?' If a gentle- man came alone and found none to join him, he called for 'a Q.' If two or more joined, they called for ' a P ; ' but seldom more was spent than about 6d. per head. Though eccentric and austere, John won the respect and esteem of his customers, by his strict integrity and stedfast adherence to his rules. For his excellent regulation as to the hour of closing, he is said to have frequently received the thanks of the ladies of Manchester, Avhose male friends were thus induced to return home early and sober. At length this nightly meeting of friends and acquaintances at John Shaw's grew into an organised club, of a convivial character, bearing his name. Its objects were not political ; yet, John and his guests being all of the same political party, there was sufficient unanimity among them to preserve harmony and concord. John's roof sheltered none but stout, thorough- going Tories of the old school, genuine ' Church and King ' men ; nay, even ' rank Jacobites.' If perchance, from ignorance of the character of the house, any unhappy Whig, any unfortunate par- tisan of the house of Hanover, any known mem- ber of a dissenting conventicle, strayed into John Shaw's, he found himself in a worse posi- tion than that of a solitary wasp in a beehive. If he had the temerity to utter a political opinion, he speedily found ' the house too hot to hold him,' and was forthwith put forth into the street. When the club was duly formed, a President was elected ; and there being some contest about a Vice-President, John Shaw summarily abolished that office, and the club had perforce to exist without its ' Vice.' The war played the mischief with John's inimitable brew ; limes became scarce ; lemons were substituted ; at length of these too, and of the old pine-apple rum of Jamaica, the supplies were so frequently cut ofl" by French privateers, that a few years before John Shaw's death, the innovation of ' grog ' in CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANOASHIEE. JANUAEY 30. CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASIIIHE. place of puncli struck a heavy blow at tlie old man's heart. Even autocrats must die, and at length, on the 26th January 179G, John Shaw was gathered to his fathers, at the ripe old age of eighty-three, having ruled his house upwards of fifty-eight years ; namely, from the year 1738. But though John Shaw ceased to rule, the club still lived and flourished. His successor in the hovise carried on the same ' early closing move- ment,' with the aid of the same old servant Molly. At length the house was pulled down, and the club was very migratory for some years. It finally settled down in 1852, in the Spread Eagle Itotel, Corporation-street, where it still prospers and flourishes. From the records of the club, which commenced in 1822 and extend to the present time, it appears that its govern- ment consists of a President, a Vice-President, a llecorder [?'. c. Secretary], a Doctor [gene- rally some medical resident of ' the right sort'], and a Poet Laureate : these are termed ' the staiF ; ' its number of members fluctuates between thirty and fifty, and it still meets in the evenings, its sittings closing, as of old, at curfew. Its presidents have included several octogenarians ; but we do not venture to say whether such longevity is due to its punch or its early hours. Its present president, Edmund Buckley, Esq., was formerly (1841-47) M.P. for Newcastle-under-Lyne ; he has been a member of the club for nearly forty years, and he must be approaching the patriarchal age of some of his predecessors. In 1834, John Shaw's absorbed into its venerable bosom another club of similar character, entitled ' The Sociable Club.' The club possesses amongst its relics oil paintings of John Shaw and his maid Molly, and of several presidents of past years. A few years ago, a singular old China punch-bowl, which had been the property of John Shaw himself, was restored to the club as its rightful property, by the de- scendant of a trustee. It is a barrel-shaped vessel, suspended as on a stillage, with a metal tap at one end, whence to draw the liquor ; which it received through a large opening or bung-hole. Besides assembling every evening, winter and summer, between five and eight o'clock, a few of the members dine together every Saturday at 2 p.m. ; and they have still an annual dinner, when old friends and members drink old wine, toast old toasts, tell old stories, or ' fight their battles o'er again.' Such is John Shaw's club — nearly a century and a quarter old, in the year of grace 1862. Erom a punch-drinking club we turn to a dining club. About the year 1806 a few Man- chester gentlemen were in the habit of dining together, as at an ordinary, at what was called ' Old Froggatt's,' the Unicorn Inn, Church- street, High-street. They chiefly consisted of young Manchester merchants and tradesmen, just commencing business and keen in its pur- suit, with some of their country customers. They rushed into the house, about one o'clock, ate a fourpenny pie, drank a glass of ale, and rushed oft' again to 'change and to business. At length it ])egun to be thought that they might just as well dine off' a joint ; and this was arranged with host and hostess, each diner pay- ing a penny for cooking and twopence for cater- ing and providing. The meal, however, continued to be performed with wonderful dispatch, and one of the traditionary stories of the society is that, a member one day, coming five minutes behind the hour, and casting a hasty glance through the window as he approached, said disappointedly to a friend, ' I need not go in — all their necks are up ! ' As soon as dinner was over, Old Froggatt was accustomed to bring in the dinner bill, in somewhat primitive fashion. Instead of the elegant, engraved form of more modern times, setting forth how many ' ports,' ' sherries,' ' brandies,' ' gins,' and ' cigars,' had been swal- lowed or consumed, — Froggatt's record was in humble chalk, marked upon the loose, unhinged lid of that useful ark in old cookery, the salt-box. A practical joke perpetrated one day on this creta- ceous account, and more fitted for ears of fifty years ago than those now existing, led to a practice which is still kept up of giving as the first toast after every Tuesday's dinner at the club, ' The Salt-box lid,' — a cabala which usually causes great perplexity to the uninitiated guest. About Christmas 1810, these gentlemen agreed to form themselves into a regular club. Ilaving to dine in a hurry and hastily to return to business, the whole thing had much the character of every one scrambling for what he could get ; and the late Mr Jonathan Peel, a cousin of the first Sir Pobert, and one of its earliest members, gave it in joke the name of the ' Scramble Club,' which was felt to be so appropriate, that it was at once adopted for the club's title, and it has borne the name ever since. The chief rule of the club was, that every member should spend sixpence in drink for the good of the house ; and the law was specially levelled against those ' sober-sides ' who would otherwise have sneaked off with a good dinner, washed down with no stronger potations than could be STipplied by the pump of the Unicorn. The club had its staif of otficers, its records and its regis- ter ; but alack ! incautiously left within the reach of servants, the first vohmie of the archives of the ancient and loyal Scramblers served the ignoble purpose of lighting the fires of an inn. We are at once reminded of the great Alexan- drian library, whose MS. treasures fed the baths of the city with fuel for more than eight months ! The club grew till the Unicorn could no longer accommodate its members ; and after various ' flittings ' from house to house, it finally folded its wings and alighted under the hospitable roof of the Clarence Hotel, Spring-gardens ; where it still, ' nobly daring, dines,' and where the din- ners are too good to be scramljled over. Amongst the regalia of the club are some portraits of its founder and early presidents, a very elaborately carved snulf-box, &c. The members dine together yearly in grand anniversar}\ Amongst the laws and customs of the club, was a system of forfeit, or fines. Thus if any member removed to another house, or married, or became a father, or won a prize at a horse-race, he was mulcted in one, two, or more bottles of wine, for the benefit of the club. Again, there were odd rules (with fines for infraction) as to not taking the chair, or leav- ing it to ring a bell, or asking a stranger to ring 197 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. it, or allowing a stranger to pay anytliing. These delinquencies were formally brought before the elub, as eliarges. and if proved, a hue of a bottle or more followed ; if not proved, tlic member bringing the eliarge forfeited a bottle of wine. Tliere were various other regulations, all tending to the practical joking called ' trotting,' and of course resulting in fines of wine. Leaving the Scramble Club to go on dining, as it has done" for more than half a century, we come next to a convivial club in another of the ancient towns of Lancashire — ' Proud Preston,' It seems that from the year 1771 down to 1811, a period of seventy years, that town boasted its ' Oyster and Parched Pea Club.'* In its early stages the nimiber of its members was limited to a dozen of the leading inhabitants ; but, like John Shaw's Club, they were all of the same political party, and they are said to have now and then honoured a Jacobite toast with a bumper. It possesses records for the year 1773, from which we learn that its president was styled ' the Speaker.' Amongst its staff of officers was one named ' Oystericus,' whose duty it was to order and look after the oysters, which then came ' by fleet' from London ; a Secretary, an Auditor, a Deputy Auditor, and a Poet Laureate, or 'Hhymesmith,' as he was generally termed. Among other officers of later creation, were the ' Cellarius,' who had to provide ' port of first quality,' the Chaplain, the Surgeon-general, the Master of the Rolls (to look to the provision of bread and butter), the ' (Sif/f^-Master,' whose title expresses his duty, Clerk of the Peas, a Miustrel, a Master of the Jewels, a Physician-in-Ordinary, &c. Among the Eules and Articles of the club, were ' That a barrel of oysters be provided every Monday night during the winter season, at the equal expense of the members ; to be opened exactly at half-past seven o'clock.' The bill was to be called for each night at ten o'clock, each member present to pay an equal share. ' Every member, on having a son born, shall pay a gallon — for a daughter half a gallon — of port, to his brethren of the club, within a month of the birth of such child, at any public-house he shall choose.' Amongst the archives of the elub is the following curious entry, which is not in a lady's hand : — 'The ladies of the Toughey [? Toffy] Club were rather disappointed at not receiving, by the nands of the respectable messenger, despatched by the stiU more respectable members, of the Oyster Club, a few oysters. They are just sitting down, after the fatigues of the evening, and take the lilierty of re- minding the worthy members of the Oyster Club, tliat oysters were not nuulefor man alone. The ladies have sent to the venerable president a small quantity of sweets [? pieces of Everton toffy] to be distributed, as he in his wisdom shall think lit. ' Monday Evening. ' It does not appear wliat was the result of this pathetic appeal and sweet gift to the venerable president of the masculine society. In 1795 the club was threatened with a difficulty, owing, as stated by 'Mr Oystericus,' to the day of the wagon— laden with oysters— leaving London * We derive our information as to this club from the Preston Chronicle. 198 having been changed. Sometimes, owing to a long frost, or other accident, no oysters arrived, and then the club must have solaced itself with 'parched peas ' and ' particular port.' Amongst the regalia of the club was a silver snufF-box, in the lid of which was set a piece of oak, part of the quarter- deck of Nelson's ship Victory. On one occasion the master of the jewel-office, having neglected to replenish this box with snufi', was fined a bottle of wine. At another time (November 1816), the Clerk of the Feas was reprimanded for neglect of duty, there being no peas supplied to the club. The Hhymesmith's poetical effusions must provoke a laugh by local allusion ; but they are scarcely good enough to record here, at least at length. A few of the best lines maybe given, as a sample of the barrel : — ' A something monastic appears amongst oysters, For gregarious they live, yet they sleep in their cloisters ; 'Tis observed too, that oysters, when placed in their barrel. Will never presume with their stations to quarrel. ' From this let us learn what an oyster can tell us, And we all shall be better and hai^pier fellows. Acqmesce in yom* stations, whenever you've got 'em ; Be not proud at the top, nor repine at the bottom, But happiest they in the middle who live. And have something to lend, and to spend, and to give.' ' The Bard would fain exchange, alack ! For precious gold, his crown of laiu-el ; His sackbut for a butt of sack, His vocal shell for oyster barrel. ' Three lines for an ode in 1806 : — ' Nelson has made the seas oiu- ow^n, Then gulp your well-fed oysters down, And give the French the shell.^ Such were and are some of the Convivial Clubs of Lancashire in the last or present century. Doubtless, similar institutions have existed, and may still exist, in other counties of England. If so, let some of their Secretaries, Recorders, or Ehymesmiths tell in turn their tale. J. H. Old Lady's Pharmacopoeia a Hundred Years Ago. — Mrs Delany writes in January 1758 : ' Does Mary covigh in the night ? Two or three snails boiled in her bariey-water or tea-water, or whatever she drinks, might be of great service to her ; taken in time, they have done wonderful cures. She must know nothing of it. They give no manner of taste. It would be best nobody should know it but yourself, and 1 should imagine six or eight boiled in a quart of water and strained off and put into a bottle, would be a good way, adding a spoonful or two of that to eimy liquid she takes. They must be fresh done every two or three days, otherwise they grow too thick.' The Laconic. — In 1773, Mr Fox, when a Lord of the Treasury, voted against his chief. Lord North ; accordingly, on the next evening, while seated on the ministenal bench in the House of Commons, Fox received from the hands of one of the doorkeepers the follomng laconic note : 'Sir, — His Majesty has thought proper to order a new Commission of the Treasiuy, in which I do not perceive the name of Charles James Fox, — North,' CHARLES EDWARD STUART. JANUAEY 31. CHARLES EDWARD STUART. JANUAEY 31. St Marcella, widow, 410. St ]\Iaidoc, called also Aidan, bishop of Ferus in Ireland, 632. St Serapion, martyr, 1240. St Cyrus and St John, martyrs. St Peter Nolasco, 1258, Born. — Ben Jonson, 1 574, Westminster. Died. — Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 1788; Clara Clairon, 1803, Paris. CHARLES EDWARD STUART. This unfortunate prince, so noted for Lis romantic effort to recover a forfeited crown in 1745, and tlie last person of the Stuart family who maintained any pretensions to it, expired at his house in Florence, at the age of sixty-eight. (It is alleged that, in reality, he died on the 30th of January, but that his friends disguised a fact which would have been thought additionally ominous for the house of Stuart.) The course of Charles Edward for many years after the Forty- five was eccentric ; latterly it became discredit- able, in consequence of sottisliness, which not only made his friends and attached servants desert him, but caused even his wife to quit his house, to which she would never return. All that can be said in extenuation is, that he had been a greatly disappointed man : maanis incidit ausis. There is, however, a more specific and effec- tive excuse for his bad habits ; they had been acquired in the course of his extraordinary adven- tures while skulking for five months in the High- lands. The use of whisky and brandy in that country was in those days unremitting, when the element could be had; and Charles's physical sufferings from hunger, exposure, and fatigue, made him but too eager to take the cup when it was offered to him. Of this fact there are several unmistakeable illustrations in a work quoted below — such as this, for example : Charles, arriving at a hovel belonging to Lochiel, ' took,' says the eye-witness, narrator of the incident, 'a hearty dram, wMcli lie pretty often called for there' i>-. ^ ^ S CHARLES EDWARD STUART, after, to drink his friends' healths.' 'I have learned,' he said on another occasion, ' to take a hearty dram, while in the Higlilands.' * We often hear of the long perseverance of a certain cast of features, or of some special features in families ; and of the truth of the remark there is no lack of illustrations. The portraits of our own royal family furnish in themselves a very clear example of resemblance continued through a sei'ies of generations. The most observable * Fourth edition of 11. Chambers's History of the Rebellion of \T\^-&. 1845, peculiarity may be said to consist of a fulness in the lower part of the cheek. It can be traced back not only to the first monarch of the family of Brunswick Lunenburg, but to his mother, the Electress Sophia of Hanover ; which shews that it did not come from the paternal line of the family, but more probably from the house of Stuart, of which the Electress was an immediate descendant, being grand-daugliter to King James I. No attempt, as far as the writer is aware, has ever been made to trace this physiognomy farther back than the Electress Sophia; and certainly in 199 THE LIGHTIXO OF THE BEACONS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE LIGHTING OF THE BEACONS. lior luollior Elizabeth, the EUn-tress Pahitinc of Ivhiiie. aiul in Elizabeth's father, King James, we ilo not find any sueli peculiarity pronmiently bronixht out. There is. iieverllu^ess, reason to believe that eommon jioints of physiognomy in the Stuart and Hanover families eaii be traced to a generation prior to the sovereign last-mentioned, who is the eommon aneestor. The Avriter, at least, must own that he has been very much struck by the resemblance borne by the recent portraits of our present amiable sovereign to one representing Prince Charles Edward in his later years. Our means of representing the two countenances are limited ; yet even in the above wood engraving the iiarity is too clear not to be geiu^rally acknow- ledged. The fulness of cheek is palpable in both portraits ; the form of the mouth is the same in both ; and the general aspect, when some allow- ances are made for ditfei'ence of age and sex, is identical. It is four generations back from the Prince, and eight from the Queen, to King James — two centuries and a half have elapsed since the births of the two children from whom the subjects of the two portraits are respectively descended : yet there is a likeness exceeding what is found in half the cases of bi'other and sister. The peculiarity, however, is apparent also in a portrait of Mary of Scotland, taken in her latter years ; and it may further be remarked that between the youthful portraits of Prince Charles Edward and those of the Prince of Wales now coming into circulation, a very striking resemblance exists. Thus the perseverance of physiognomy may be said to extend over three centuries and eleven generations. Most of her Majesty's loyal and affectionate subjects will probably feel that the matter is not without some interest, as reminding them of the connection between the present royal family and that ancient one which it superseded, and as telling us em- phatically that Possessor and Pretender are now happily one. THE LIGHTING OF THE BEACONS. During the threats of invasion from France in 1803-i, the spirit of the people for national defence was wound up to a high pitch of enthu- siasm. On the evening of the 31st of January 1804, a beacon at Hume Castle in Berwickshire was lighted in consequence of a mistake, and, other beacons following the example, the volun- teers throughout nearly all the southern counties of Scotland were in arms before next morning, and pouring fast to their respective places of rendez- vous. It was held to be a most creditable example of earnest and devoted patriotism, and undoubt- edly served to create a general feeling of confi- dence in the self-defensive powers of the island. Some particulars of this afl'air have been set down by Sir Walter Scott, who had opportunities of observing what happened on the occasion. 'The menof Liddesdale,' says he, 'the most remote point to the westward which the alarm reached, were so much afraid of being late in the field, that they put in requisition all the horses they could find ; and when they had thus made a forced march out of their own county, they turned their borrowed steeds loose to find their '2(X) way back through the hills, and they all got back safe to their own stables. Another remarkable circumstance was, the general cry of the inha- bitants of the smaller towns for arms, that they might go along with their companions. The Selkirkshire yeomanry made a remarkable march ; for although some of the individuals lived at twenty and thirty miles' distance from the place where they mustered, they were nevertheless embodied and in order in so short a period, that they were at Dalkeith, which was their alarm- post, about one o'clock on the day succeeding the first signal, with men and horses in good order, though the roads were in a bad state, and many of the troopers must have ridden forty or fifty miles without drawing bridle. ' The account of the ready patriotism displayed by the country on this occasion, warmed the hearts of Scottishmen in eveiy corner of the world. It reached [in India] the ears of the well-known Dr Lcyden, whose enthusiastic love of Scotland, and of his own district of Teviotdale, formed a distinguished part of his character. The account, which was read to him when on a sick-bed, stated (very truly) that the diflerent corps, on arriving at their alarm-j)Osts, announced themselves by their music playing the tunes peculiar to their own districts, many of which have been gathering-signals for centuries. It was particularly remembered, that the Liddes- dale men, before mentioned, entered Kelso play- ing the lively tune — wha dare meddle wi' me ! And wha dare meddle wi' me ! My name it is little Jock Elliot, And wlia dare meddle wi' me ! The patient was so delighted with this display of ancient Border spirit, that he sprung up in his bed, and began to sing the old song with such vehemence of action and voice, that his attend- ants, ignorant of the cause of excitation, con- cluded that the fever had taken possession of his brain ; and it was only the entry of another Borderer, Sir John Malcolm, and the explana- tion which he was well qualified to give, that prevented them from resorting to means of medi- cal coercion.' A local newspaper of February 3, 18G0, chroni- cled a festive meeting which had taken place four days before at the village of St Boswells in Eoxburghshire, and gave the following curious details a-propos: 'On the memorable night in 1801, when the blazing beacons on the Scottish hills told the false tale of a French invasion, a party of volunteers were enjoying themselves in a licensed toll-house at Ancrum Bridge, Eox- burghshire. They rushed out on hearing that the beacon was lit on the Eildons, and, in their hurry to march to the appointed rendezvous, forgot to settle the reckoning with their host of the toll-house. When the alarm bad subsided, and the volunteers had returned to their homes, they remembered the bill was still to pay, but the difficulty of assembling the whole party retarded the settlement till the anniversary of the day of the false alarm, the 31st January, drew near. They considered this a proper occa- sion to meet and clear off the old score, and it was then determined to hold an annual meeting PERSEVEKING PHYSIOGNOMIES. JANUAEY 31. PEESEVEKING PHYSIOGNOMIES. by way of commemorating the ligliting of the beacons. The toll-keeper removed first to New- town, and then to St Boswells, but the party followed him, and the festival is still held in the liuccleuch Ai-ms' Inn, St Eoswells, though none of the members of the original party of 1801 remain to take part iu it.' PERSEVERING PHYSIOGXOMIES. The remarkable case of resemblance of distant relatives given under the title ' Charles Edward Stuart ' could be supported by many others. Dr Fosbroke, iu his valuable historical work entitled Tlie Berkeley Manuscripts, gives some interesting anecdotes of Dr Jcnner, and, amongst others, makes the following statement : ' A lady whom Dr .Tenner met at John Julius Angersteiu's, remarked how strongly Dr Jenuer's physiognomy re- sembled that of her own ancestor, Judge Jenuer, of a family of the name seated iu Essex. It is presumed that a branch of this Hue migrated from Essex into Glouccstershhe, where, iu the parish of Staudish, they have been found for two centuries. ' * The thick under-lip of the imjierial family of Austria is often aUuded to. It is alleged to have been derived through a female from the princely Polish family of JageUon. However this may be, we have at least good evidence that the remark is of old date ; for Bin-ton, in his Anatomy of Melanclioly, says, ' llie Austrian lip, and those Indians' Hat noses, are propagated.' In the Notes and Queries of March 13, 1852, a wi-iter signing Vokaeos presented the following state- ment : ' To trace a family likeuess for a century is not at all uncommon. Any one who knows the face of the present Duke of Manchester, will see a strong family likeness to his great ancestor through six generations, the Earl of Manchester of the Com- monwealth, as engi'aved in Lodge's Portraits. The following instance is more remarkable. Ehzabeth Harvey was Abbess of Elstow in 1501. From her brother Thomas is descended, in a du-ect line, the pre- sent Marquis of Bristol. If any one will lay the jjortrait of Lord Bristol, in ]\lr Gage Eokewode's Tliingoe Hundred, by the side of the sepidchral brass of the Abbess of Elstow, hgured in Fisher's Bedford- shire Antiquities, he cannot but be struck by the strong likeuess between the two faces. This is valuable evi- dence on the dis])uted point whether portraits were attempted in sepulchral brasses.' A writer in a sub- sequent number, signing 'H. H.,' considered this 'a strong demand on credulity,' and alleged that the Alibess's brass gives the same features as are generally found on brasses of the period, implying that likeness was not then attempted on sepulchral monuments. Yet, on the specific alleged fact of the resemblance between the abbess and tlie marquis, ' H. H.' gave no contradiction; and the fact, if truly stated by Vo- kai'os, is certainly not unworthy of attention. The writer is tempted to add an anecdote which he has related elsewhere. In the summer of 182G, as he was walking with a friend in the neighbourhood of the town of Kirkcudbright, a carriage passed, con- taining a middle-aged gentleman, iu whose burly figure and vigorous physiognomy he thonglit he observed a resemljlance to the ordinary portraits of Sir William Wallace. The friend to whom he instantly remarked the circmnstance, said, 'It is curious that you should have thought so, for tliat gentleman is General Dunlop, whose mother [Burns's correspondent] was a Wallace of Craigie, a family claiming to be descended from a brother of the Scottish liero ! ' As the circumstance makes a rather ' strong demand ujion credulity,' the writer, besides averring * Berkeley Manuscripts, &c., 4to. 1821. P. 220. that he states no more than truth, may remark tliat possibly the ordinary portrait of Wallace has been derived from some intermediate memljer of the Craigie-Wallace fanuly, though prol^aljly one not later than the beginning of the seventeenth century. Of the improbabihty of any portrait of Wallace having ever been painted, and of the anachronisms of the dress and armour, he is, of course, well aware. In regard to the question of hereditary physiognomy, it might l)e supposed that, unless where a family keei)S within its own bounds, as that of Jacob has done, ^\'e are not to expect a perseverance of features through more than a very few generations, seeing that the ancestry of every himian being increases enormously in mmaber at each step in the retrogression, so as to leave a man but little chance of deriving any feature from (say) any partieidar gi-eat-great-great-great- gi-andfather. On the other hand, it is to be considered that there is a chance, however small, and it may be only in those few instances that the transmission of likeness is remarked. It is in favour of this view that we so often find a family feature or trait of coun- tenance re-emerging after one or two generations, or coming out unexpectedly in some lateral offshoot. The writer could point to an instance where the beauty of a married woman has passed over her own children to reappear with characteristic form and complexion in her gi-andchildi-en. He knows very intimately a young lady who, in countenance, in port, and iu a pecidiar form of the feet, is precisely a revival of a great grandmother, whom he also kuew intimately. He coiUd also point to an instance where a woman of deep ohve complexion and elegant oriental figure, the inheritress, perhaps, of the style of some remote an- cestress, has given birth to childi'en of the same brown, sanguineous tyi:)e as her own brothers and sisters ; the whole constitutional system being thus shewn as liable to sinkings and re-emergences. In the case of Queen Victoria and Prince Charles, it is probably re- emergence of type that is chietiy concerned ; and the l^arity may accordingly be considered as in a great degree accidental. There are some cm-ious circumstances regarding family likenesses, not much, if at all, hitherto noticed, but which have a value in connection with this ques- tion. One is, that a family characteristic, or a resem- blance to a brother, micle, grandfather, or other rela- tive, may not have appeared throughout life, but will emerge into view after death. The same result is occasionally observed when a person is labouring under the effects of a severe illness. We may presume that the mask which has hitherto concealed or smo- thered up the reseiid:)lance, is removed either by emaciation or by the subsidence of some hitherto predominant exiiression. Another fact equally or even more remarkable, is, that an artist painting A.'s por- trait will fail to give a true likeness, but produce a face strikingly like B.'s,— a brother or cousin,— a person whoin he never saw. The writer Avas once shewn a small half-length jjortrait, and asked if he could say who was the person represented. He instantly' mentioned ]\Ir Gilbert Burns, the poet's brother, whom he had slightly known a few years before. He was then told that the picture had been painted from the poet's own countenance by an artist named Taylor, who never detained any reputation. This artist had certainly never seen Gilbert Burns. Gdbert and Bobert were, moreover, well known to have been of different types, the one taking from the mother, the other from tlie father. The curious con- sideration arising from this class of facts is, that the same variation or transition, which nature makes in producing a second child of one set of parents, appears to be made in the mysterious recesses of the nlastic mind of the artist. ^ 201 Then came old February, sitting In an old wagon, for lie could not ride. Drawn of two tishes for the season fitting, Which through the ilood before did softly slide And swim away ; yet had he by his side His plough and harness fit to till the ground. And tools to prune the trees, before the pride Of hasting prime did make them bourgeon wide, Spenser. (DESCRIPTIVE.) '^ comes in like a sturdy country maiden, witli a tinge of the red, hard winter apple on her healthy cheek, and as she strives against the wind, -wTaps her russet-coloured well about her, while with bent she keeps throwing back the long hair that blows about her face, and though at times half blinded by the sleet and snow, 202 still continues her course courageously. Some- times she seems to shrink, and while we watcli her progress, half afraid that she will be blown back again into the dreary waste of Winter, Ave see that her course is still forward, that she never takes a backward step, but keeps jour- neying along slowly, and drawing nearer, at every stride, to the Land of Flowers. Between the uplifted curtaining of clouds, that lets in a broad burst of golden sunlight, the skylark hovers like a dark speck, and cheers her with his brief sweet song, while the mellow-voiced blackbird and the speckle-breasted thrush make music FEBEUAHY— DESCEIPTIVE. amoucf tlie opening blossoms of tlie blacktliorn, to gladden her way ; and she sees faint flushings of early buds here and there, which tell her the long miles of hedgerows Avill soon be green. Now there is a stir of life in the long silent fields, a jingling of horse-gear, and the low wave- like murmur of the plough-share, as it cuts throngh the yielding earth, from the furrows of which there comes a refreshing smell, while those dusky foragers, the rooks, follow close iipon the ploughman's heels. Towards the end of the month the tall elm-trees resound with their loud ' cawing ' in the early morning, and the nests they are busy building shew darker every day through the leafless branches, until Spring comes and hides them beneath a covering of foliage. Even in smoky cities, in the dawn of the length- ening days, the noisy sparrows come out from under the blackened eaves, and, as they shake the soot from off" their wings, give utterance to the delight they feel in notes that sound like the grating jar of a knife-grinder's dry wheel. jSTow and then the pretty goldfinch breaks out with its short song, then goes peeping about as if wonder- ing why the young green groundsel is so long before putting forth its dull golden flowers. The early warbling of the yellow-hammer is half drowned by the clamorous jackdaws that now congregate about the grey church steeples. Then Winter, who seems to have been asleep, shews his cloudy form once more above the bare hill-tops, from whence he scatters his snow-flakes; while the timid birds cease their song, and again shelter in the still naked hedgerows, seeming to marvel to themselves why he has returned again, after the little daisy buds had begun to thrust their round green heads above the earth, announcing his departure. But his long delay prevents not the willow from shooting out its silvery catkins, nor the graceful hazel from unfurling its pen- dulous tassels; while the elder, as if bidding defiance to Winter, covers its stems with broad buds of green. The long-tailed field-mouse begins to blink at intervals, and nibble at the stores he hoarded up in autumn ; then peeping out and seeing the snow lie among the young violet leaves, at the foot of the oak amid whose roots he has made his nest, he coils himself up again after his repast, and enjoys a little more sleep. Amid the wide-spreading branches over his head, the raven has begun to build; and as he returns with the lock of wool he has rent from the back of some sickly sheep to line his nest, he disturbs the little slumberer below by his harsh, loud croaking. That ominous sound sends the aflrighted lambs off" with a scamper to their full- uddered dams, while the raven looks down upon them with hungry eye, as if hoping that some one will soon cease its pitiful bleating, and fall a sacrifice to his horny beak. 13ut the silver- frilled daisies will soon star the ground where the lamljs now race against each other, and the great band of summer-birds will come from over the sunny sea, and their sweet piping bo heard in place of the ominous croaking of the raven. The mild days of February cause the beauti- fully-formed squirrel to wake out of his short winter sleep, and feed on his hoarded nuts ; and he may now be seen balanced by his hind legs and bushy tail, washing his face, on some bare bough near his dray or nest, though at the first sound of the voices of the boys who come to hunt him, he is off, and springs from tree to tree with the agility of a bird. It is only when the trees are naked that tlie squirrel can be hunted, for it is diflicult to catch a glimpse of him when ' the leaves are green and long ; ' and it is an old country saying, when anything unlikely to be found is lost, that 'you might as well hunt a squirrel when the leaves are out.' Country boys may still be seen hiding at the corner of some out-building, or behind some low wall or fence, with a string in their hands attached to the stick that supports the sieve, under which they have scattered a few crumbs, or a little corn, to tempt the birds, which become more shy every day, as insect-food is now more plentiful. With what eager eyes the boys watch, and what a joyous shout they raise, as the sieve falls over some feathered prisoner ! But there is still ten chances to one in favour of the bird escaping when they place their hands under the half-lifted sieve in the hope of laying hold of it. The long dark nights are still cold to the poor shepherds, who are compelled to be out on the windy hiUs and downs, attending to the ewes and lambs, for thousands would be lost at this season were it not for their watchful care. In some of the large farmhouses, the lambs that are ailing, or have lost their dams, may be seen lying before the fire in severe weather ; and a strange expression — as it seemed to us— beamed from their gentle eyes, as they looked around, bleating for something they had lost ; and as they licked our hands, we felt that we should make but poor butchers. And there they lie sheltered, while out-of-doors the wind still roars, and the bare trees toss about their naked arms like maniacs, shaking down the last few withered leaves in Avhich some of the insects have folded up their eggs. Strange power ! which we feel, but see not; which drives the fallen leaves before it, like routed armies; and ships, whose thunder shakes cities, it tosses about the deep like floating sea-weeds, and is guided by Him 'who gathereth the winds in His fists.' ' February fill-dyke ' was the name given to this wet slushy month by our forefathers, for when the snow melted, the rivers overflowed, the dykes brimmed over, and long leagues of land were under water, which have been drained within the last century ; though miles of marshes are still flooded almost every winter, the deep silt left, enriching future harvests. It has a strange appearance to look over a wide stretch of country, where only the tops of the hedgerows or a tree or two are here and there visible. All the old familiar roads that led along pleasant streams to far-away thorpe or grange in summer, are buried beneath the far-spreading waters. And in those hedges water-rats, weasels, field-mice, and many another seldom-seen animal, find harbourage until the waters subside : Ave have there found the little harvest-mouse, that when full grown is no l)igger than a large bee, shivering in the bleak hedgerow. And in those reedy fens and lonesome marshes 203 THE BOOK OF DAYS. ■n-hero the bittevu now booms, aud the heron stands nlowe tor honrs watehing the water, wliile the tufted pkiver wails above its head, the wild- fowl shooter glides aloiiLr noiseless as a s,diost in his punt, pulliuij: it on by clutching the over- hanginij reeds, lor the souud of a ])addlo would startle the whole Hook, and he would never come within shot but for this guarded silence. He bears the beating rain aud the hard blowing winds of February without a murmur, for he knows the full-fed mallard — feathered like the richest green velvet — and the luscious teal will be his reward, if ho perseveres and is patient. In the nuLluight moonlight, and the grey dawn of morning, he is out on those silent waters, when the weather almost freezes his very blood, aud he can scarcely feel the trigger that he draws ; while the edges of frosted water-flags which he clutches, to pull his punt along, seem to cut like swords. To us there has seemed to be at such times ' a Spirit brooding on the waters,' a Presence felt more in those solitudes than ever falls upon the heart amid the busy hum of crowded cities, which has caused ns to exclaim unawares, 'God is here!' Butterflies that have found a hiding-place some- where during winter again appear, and begin to lay their eggs on the opening buds, which when in full leaf will supply food for the future cater- pillars. Amongst these may now be found the new-laid eggs of the peacock and painted- lady butterflies, on the small buds of young nettles, thovigh the plants are only just above ground. Everybody who has a garden now begins to make some little stir in it, when the weather is fine, for the sweet air that now blows abroad mellows and sweetens the newly-dug earth, and gives to it quite a refreshing smell. And all who have had experience, know that to let the ground lie fallow a few weeks after it is trenched, is equal to giving it an extra coating of manure, such virtue is there in the air to which it lies exposed. Hard clods that were difficult to break with the spade when first dug up, will, after lying exposed to the sun and frost, crumble at a touch like a ball of sand. It is pleasant, too, to see the little children pottering about the gardens, unconscious that, while they think they are help- ing, they are in the way of the workmen ; to see them poking about with their tiny spades or pointed sticks, and hear their joyous shouts, when they see the first crocus in flower, or find beneath the decayiag weeds the upright leaves of the hyacinth. Even the very smallest child, that has but been able to walk a few weeks, can sit down beside a puddle aud help to make ' dirt- pies,' while its little frock slips off its white shoulders, and as some helping sister tries to pull it on again, she leaves the marks of her dirty fin- gers on the little one's neck. But afire kindled to burn the great heap of weeds which Winter has withered and dried, is their chief delight. What little bare sturdy legs come toddling up, the cold red arms bearing another tiny load which they throw upon the fire, and what a clapping of hands there is, as the devouring fiame leaps up and licks in the additional fuel which cracks again as the February wind blows the sparks about in starry showers ! Pleasant is it also to watch them beside the village brook, after the icy chains of Winter 204, are unloosened, floating their sticks and bits of wood which tliey call boats — all our island chil- dren are foiul of water — while their watchful mothers ai-e sewing and gossiping at the open cot- tage doors, round which the twined honeysuckles €ire now beginning to make a show of leaves. All along beside the stream the elder-trees are shew- ing their emerald buds, while a silvery light falls on the downy catkins of the willows, which the country children call palm ; while lower down we see the dark green of the great marsh-marigolds, which ere long will be in flower, and make a golden light in the clear brook, in which the leaves are now mirrored. Happy children ! they feel the increasing warmth, and find enjoy- ment in the lengthening of the days, for they can now j)lay out-of-doors an hour or more longer than they could a month or two ago, when they were bundled off to bed soon after dark, ' to keep them,' as their mothers say, ' out of mischief.' Sometimes, while digging in February, the gar- dener will turn up a ball of earth as large as a moderate-sized apple ; this when broken open will be found to contain the grub of the large stag-beetle in a torpid state. When uncoiled, it is found to be four inches in length. About July it comes out a perfect insect — the largest we have in Britain. Some naturalists assert that it re- mains underground in a larva state for five or six years, but this has not been proved satisfactorily. Many a meal do the birds now gather from the winter greens that remain in the gardens, and unless the first crop of early peas is protected, all the shoots will sometimes be picked off in a morn- ing or two, as soon as they have grown a couple of inches above ground. The wild wood-pigeons are great gatherers of turnip-tops, and it is nothing tinusual in the country to empty their maws, after the birds are shot, and wash and dress the tender green shoots found therein. iNo finer dish of greens can be placed on the table, for the birds swallow none but the young eye-shoots. Larks will at this season sometimes unroof a portion of a corn-stack, to get at the well-filled sheaves. JNTo wonder fai'mers shoot them ; for where they have pulled the thatch ofl' the stack, the wet gets in, finds its way down to the very foundation, and rots every sheaf it falls through. We can never know wholly, what birds find to feed upon at this season of the year ; when the earth is sometimes frozen so hard, that it rings under the spade like iron, or when the snow lies knee-deep on the ground. We startle them from under the sheltering hedges ; they spring up from the lowly moss, which remains green all through the winter ; we see them pecking about the bark, and de- cayed hollow of trees ; w^e make our way througii the gorse bushes, and they are there : amid withered grass, and weeds, and fallen leaves, where lie millions of seeds, Avhich the autumn winds scattered, we find them busy foraging ; yet what they find to feed upon in many of these places, is still to us a mystery. We know that at this season they pass the greater portion of their time in sleep, — another proof of the great Creator's providence, — so do not require so much food as when busy building, and breed- ing, in spring and summer. They burrow in the snow through little openiags hardly visible to FEBEUAEY— HISTOEICAL. human eyes, beneatli liedejes and buslies, and there they find warmtli and food. From the corn- house, stable, or cart-shed, the blackbird comes rushing out witli a sound that startles us, as we enter ; for there he finds something to feed upon: while the little robin will even peck at the win- dow frame if you have been in the habit of feed- ing him. On the plum-tree, before tlie window at which we are now Avriting, a robin has taken his stand every day throughout the winter, eye- ing us at our desk, as he waited for his accus- tomed crumbs. When the door was opened and all still, he would hop into the kitchen, and there we have found him perched on the dresser, nor did we ever attempt to capture him. If strangers came down the garden-walk, he never flew farther away than the privet-hedge, until he was fed. Generally, as the day drew to a close, he mounted his favourite plum-tree, as if to sing us a parting song. We generally threw liis food xmder a tliorny, low-growing japonica, which no cat could penetrate, although we have often seen our own Browney girring and swearing and switching his tail, while the bird was safely feeding within a yard of him. Primroses arc now abundant, no matter how severe the Winter may have been. Amid the din and jar of the busy streets of London, the pleasant cry of ' Come buy my pretty primroses' falls cheerfully on the car, at the close of Feb- ruarj'. It may be on account of its early appear- ance, that Ave fancy there is no yellow llower so delightful to look upon as the delicately- coloured primrose ; for the deep golden hue of the celandine and buttercup is glaring when compared with it. There is a beauty, too, in the form of its heart-shaped petals, also in the foliage. Examined by an imaginative eye, the leaves when laid down look like a pleasant green land, full of little hills and hollows, such as we fancy insects — invisible to the naked glance — must delight in wandering over. Such a world Bloom- field pictured as be watched an insect climb up a plantain leaf, and fancied what an immense plain the foot or two of short grass it overlooked must appear in the eye of a little traveller, who had climbed a summit of six inches. In the country they speak of things happening at 'prim- rose-time:' he died or she was married 'about primrose-time ;' for so do they mark the season that lies between the white ridge of Winter, and the pale green border of Spring. Then it is a flower as old and common as our English daisies, and long before the time of Alfred must have gladdened the eyes of Saxon children by its early appearance, as it does the children of the present day. The common coltsfoot has been in flower several weeks, and its leaves are now beginning to appear, for the foliage rarely shews itself on this singular plant until the bloom begins to fade. The black hellebore is also in bloom, and, on accbunt of its resemblance to the queen of sum- mer, is called the Christmas-rose, as it often flowers at that season. It is a pretty ornament on the brow of Winter, whether its deep cup is white or pale pink, and in sheltered situations remains a long time in flower. Every way there are now signs that tbe reign of Winter is nearly over : even wlienhe dozes he can no longer enjoy his long sleep, for the snow melts from under him almost as fast as it falls, and he feels the rounded buds breaking out beneath him. The flush of golden light thrown from the prim- roses, as they catch the sunshine, causes him to rub his dazed eyes, and the singing of the un- loosened meadow-runnels falls with a strange sound on his cold, deadened ear. He knows that Spring is hiding somewhere near at hand, and that all Nature is waiting to break out into flower and song, when he has taken his departure. A great change has taken place almost unseen. We cannot recall the day when the buds first caught our eye — tiny green clots which are now opening into leaves that are covering the lilac- trees. We are amazed to see the hawthorn bedge, wbicli a week or two ago we passed unnoticed, now bursting out into the pale green flush of Spring — the most beautiful of all green hues. We feel the increasing power of the sun ; and win- dows which have been closed, and rendered air- tight to keep out th.e cold, are now thrown open to let in the refreshing breeze, which, is shaking out the sweet buds, and the blessed sunshine — the gold of heaven — whicb God in His goodness showers alike upon the good and the evU. (historical.) February was one of th.e two months (January being the other) introduced into the Eoman Calendar by Numa Pompilius, when he extended the year to twelve of these periods. Its name arose from the practice of religious expiation and purification which took place among the Komans at the beginning of this month {Fehruare, to ex- piate, to purify). It has been on the whole an ill- used month, perhaps in consequence of its noted want (in the northern hemisphere) of what is pleasant and agreeable to the human senses. Numa let fall upon it the doom which was un- avoidable for some one of the months, of having, three out of four times, a day less than even those which were to consist of thirty days. That is to say, he arranged that it should have only twenty- nine days, excepting in leap years ; when, by the intercalation of a clay between the 23rd and 24th, it was to have thirty. No great occasion here for complaint. But when Augustus chose to add a thirty-first day to August, that the month named from him might not lack in the dignity enjoyed by six other months of the year, he took it from February, which could least spare it, thus re- ducing it to twenty-eight in all ordinary yeai-s. In our own parliamentary arrangement for the reformation of the calendar, it being necessary to drop a day out of each century excepting those of which the ordinal number could be divided by four, it again fell to the lot of February to be the sufierer. It was deprived of its 29th day for all such years, and so it befell in the year 1800, and will in 1900, 2100, 2200, &c. Verstegan informs us that, among our Saxon ancestors, the month got the name of Sprout- hale, from the fact, rather conspicuous in garden- ing, of the sprouting of cabbage at this ungenial season. The name of Sol-monatt was afterwards conferred upon it, in consequence of the return of the luminary of day from the low course in 205 CHAKACTEKISTICS OF FKBRTTARY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST EKIDGET, OE ST BEIDE. the heaveus Avhieli for some time ho had been ruuniii'^ • The common embk-maticnl represen- tation of February is. a man in a sky-coloured dress, bearing in Iiis hand the astrouomical sign Visccs.'—JJradj/. CHARACTERISTICS OF FEBRUARY. The average temperature of January, which is the knvest of the year, is but slightly advanced in February; say' from 40° to 4L° Fahrenheit. IS'evertheless. -n-hile frosts often take place during the month. February is certainly more charac- terised by rain than by snow, and our unpleasant sensation's during its progress do not so much arise from a strictly low temperature, as from the harsh damp feeling which its airs impart. Usually, indeed, the cold' is intermitted by soft vernal periods of three or four days, during which the snow-drop and crocus are enabled to present themselves above ground. Gloomy, chilly, rainy davs are a prominent feature of the month, tending, as has been observed, to a flooding of the country ; and we all feel how appropriate it is that the two signs of the zodiac connected with the month — Aquarius and Pisces— should be of such watery associations. Here, again, however, we are liable to a fidlacy, in imagining that February is the most rainy of the months. Its average depth of fall, 4-21 inches, is, in reality, equalled by three other months, January, August, and September, and exceeded by October,"'November, and De- cember, as shewn by a rain-gauge kept for thirty years in the Isle of Bute. At London, the sun is above the horizon on the 1st of February from 7h. 42m. to 4h. 47m., in all 9h. 5m. At the last daj- of the month, the sun is above the horizon lOh. 45iu. PROVERBS REGARDING FEBRUARY. Tlie tendency of this month to wet and its xm- certain temperature, as hovering between Winter and Spring, are expressed proverbially : ' February fill the dylce [ditch] Either with the black or white :' i. e. cither with rain or snow. Popular wisdom, however, recognises an advantage in its adhering to the wintry character, the above rhyme having occasionally added to it, ' If it be white, it 's the better to like ; ' while other rhymes support the same view. Thus, in Eay's collection of English proverbs, we have : ' The Welshman would rather see his dam on her bier, Than see a fair Februeer ; ' and from the Scotch collections : ' A' the months o' the year Curse a fair Februeer.' The Norman peasant pronounces virtually to the same purpose : ' Fevrier qui donne neige, Bel 6te nous pleige.' Connected evidently with this general idea about February, is the observation regarding Candlemas Day, to be adverted to in its place. Jirst flf Jfcbraiirjj. St Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, martyr, 107. St Rionius, priest and martyr, 250. St Kinnia, virgin of Ireland, 5th century. St Bridsjet (or Bride), patroness of Ireland, 523. St Sigebertll., King of Austrasia, 656. ST IGNATIUS. Ignatius occupies an important place in the history of Christianity, as an immecUate disciple and successor of the apostles. As bishop of Antioch, in which position he acted for forty years, he is admitted to have been a perfect model of virtue and pious zeal. Under the Emperor Trajan, this holy man was sent to Home to be devoured by wild beasts — a martyrdom to which he submitted with the usual resignation and joy. "What was left of the feeble old man was carefully brought back to Antioch, and preserved for the veneration of the faithful. There are, however, more important relics of the martyr in four epistles, a translation of which was published by Archbishop Wake, in 1G93. 206 ST BRIDGET, OR ST BRIDE. St Bridget was a native of Ireland, and has the honour to share with St Patrick the distinc- tion of exercising the spiritual patronage of that island. She was a daughter of one of the princes of Ulster, and was born at Fochard, in that province, soon after the first conversion of Ireland to the Christian faith. As she grew up she became remarkable for her piety, and having taken the monastic vow, she was the first nun in Ireland, and has ever since been reverenced by the Irish Romanists as the mother of nunneries in that country. She built her first cell under a large oak, which had perhaps been the site of pagan worship in earlier times, and from whence it was named Kil-dara, or the ceU of the oak. Bound this first Irish nunnery eventually arose the city of Kildare. The date at which St Bridget founded her cell is said to have been about, the year 585. After having astonished the THE DUKE OF SHEEWSBUEY. FEBEUAEY 1. THE BELL EOCK LIGHTHOUSE. Catholic world by a number of extraordinary inii-acles, wliick are duly chronicled in her Icjreuds, she died, and was buried at Down- patrick, the church of which boasted also of l^ossessing the bodies of the saints Patrick and Columba. Gii-aldus Cambrensis has recorded how, in 1185, soon after the conquest of Ulster by John de Courci, the bodies of the three saints were found, lying side by side, in a triple vault, St Patrick occupying the place in the middle, and how they were all three translated into the cathedral. This event appears to have created a great sensation at the time, and was commemorated in the following Latin distich, which is frequently quoted in the old monastic chronicles : ' In bm-go Duno tumiilo tumulantur in uno Brigida, Patricius, atquc Columba plus.' For some cause or other Bridget was a popular saint in England and Scotland, where she was better known by the corrupted or abbreviated name of St Bride, and under this name a number of churches were dedicated to her. We need only mention St Bride's Church in Fleet-street, Loudon. Adjoining to St Bride's Churchyard, Fleet- street, is an ancient well dedicated to the saint, and commonly called Bride's Well. A palace erected near by took the name of Bridewell. This being given by Edward VI. to the city of London as a workhouse for the poor and a house of correction, the name became associated in the popular mind with houses having the same purpose in view. Hence it has arisen that the pure and innocent Bridget — the first of Irish nuns — is now inextricably connected in our ordi- nary national parlance with a class of beings of the most opposite description. Born. — Tiberius Hemsterhuys, 1685, Groningen; Edward Coke, Lord Chief Justice, 1551-2, Mileham ; John Philip Kemble, actor, 1757, Prescot. Died.— Pope Alexander VIII., 1691 ,• Charles Duke of .Shrewsbury, 1717 ; Sir Hew Dalrymple, President of the Court of Session, 1737 ; William Aiton, botanist, 1793, Kew ; Dr John Lempriere {Classical Dictionary), 1793 ; Edward Donovan, naturalist, 1837 ; Mary Wool- stoncrafc Shelley (?2ee Godwin), novelist, 1851. THE DVKE OF SHREWSBURY. The fortunes of this distinguished nobleman present a remarkable instance of the attainment of tlie highest honours of rank and state, but limited to his own individual enjoyment of such distinctions. He was the elder son of the eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury, who died of a wound re- ceived in his duel with George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, at Barnes, as described at page 129. He was born in the year of the Resto- ration, and had Charles the Second for his god- father. In 169 1, he was created Marquis of Alton and Duke of Shrewsbury, and installed a Kniglit of the Garter. Ilis grace was a prominent states- man in the reigns of William and IMary, Queen Anne, and George I., and filled some of the highest oHicial situations. lie had quitted the Church of Homo and become a Protestant in 1679, and by his steady adherence to the Pro- testant cause had incurred the displeasure of James II. He was one of the seven who, in June 1688, joined the celebrated association, inviting over the Prince of Orange. At the demise of Queen Anne (who delivered to him the Treasurer's staff on her death-bed), the Duke of Shrewsbury was, at the same time, Lord Lieu- tenant of Ireland, Lord High Treasurer of Great Britain, and Lord Chamberlain, — a circumstance, says Sir Bernard Burke, {Peerage and Baronet- age, edit. 1862,) previously unparalleled in our history. His grace, on that occasion, secured the Hanoverian accession, by at once signing the order for proclaiming George I. The Duke married the daughter of the Marquis of Palli- otti, but died without issue, when the dukedom and marquisate expired, and the earldom, &c., reverted to his cousin. THE TWO PRINCES OF ANAMABOE. In the London season of 1749, two black princes of Anamaboe Avere in fashion at all the assemblies. Their story is very much like that of Oroonoko, and is briefly this : A Moorish king, who had entertained, with great hospitality, a British captain trafficking on the coast of Africa, reposed such confidence in him as to intrust him with his son, about eighteen years of age, and another sprightly youth, to be brought to England and educated in the European manners. The captain received them, and basely sold them for slaves. He shortly after died ; the ship coming to England, the officers related the whole affair ; upon which the Government sent to pay their ransom, and they were brought to England, and put under the care of the Earl of Halifax, then at the head of the Board of Trade, who had them clothed and educated. They were afterwards received in the higher circles, and introduced to the King (George II.) on the 1st of February. In this year they appeared at Covent Garden Theatre, to see the tragedy of Oroonoho, where they were received with a loud clap of ap- p)lause, which they returned with ' a genteel bow.' The tender interview between Imoinda and Oroonoko so affected the Prince, that he was obliged to retire at the end of the fourth act. His companion remained, but wept all the time so bitterly, that it affected the audience more than the play. WILLIAM AITON AND THE ' HORTUS KEWENSIS.' In the neatly kept churchyard of Kew, in Surrey, rest the remains of WiUiam Alton, ' late gardener to his Majesty at Kew,' a reputation which he largely extended by the publication of the famed Catalogue of Plants in the royal gar- dens, entitled the Hortiis Ken-ensis. He had been superintendent of the gardens from their first establishment ; and in honour of his profes- sional abiUties and private worth, at his funeral the pall was supported by Sir Joseph Banks, the llev D. Goodenough, Dr Pitcairne, Mr Dundas (of Richmond), and Zofl'any, the painter. THE BELL ROCK LIGHTHOUSE. For more than half a century has this noble structure braved the storms of the German Ocean without any of its masonry being dis- 207 THE BELL EOCK LIGHXnOUSE. THE BOOK OP DAYS. the way shrews weee tamed. placed. It ■n-as first lightL^d on tlie 1st of Feb ruavv ISll. Tfio Tiu'li Cape Ixodc, S. tormoil in the oldest eharls,* ape ]Joelc, as it is or 13oli Hock, lies on THE EELL T.OCK LIGHTHOUSE. tbe coast about t^venty-four miles east of Dundee barbour, in tbe track of all vessels makincj for tbe estuaries of tbe Fritbs of Fortb and Tay, from a foreign voyage. It was, from a very re- mote period, tbe scene of numerous sbipwrecks. Tbe top of tbe rock being visible at low water, one of tbe abbots of Aberbrotbock attached to it a framework and a bell, which, being rung by the waves, warned mariners to avoid the fatal reef. A tradition respecting this bell has been embodied by Dr Southey in bis ballad of ' Ealpb the Kover.' A notorious pirate of this name is said to have cut tbe bell from the framework, 'to plague tbe Abbot of Aberbrotbock,' and some time after be is said to have received the just punishment of bis wickedness, by being ship- wrecked on the spot. The necessity of erecting a lighthouse upon this rock was painfully shewn in the year 1799, when about seventy vessels were wrecked on tbe coast of Scotland in a terrific storm. This cala- mity drew the attention of the Commissioners of tbe ^STortbern Lighthouses to the Inch Scape, and Mr Eobert Stevenson, the scientific engineer of tbe Lighthouse Board, erected tbe present edifice from bis own designs, between tbe years 1807 and 1811. _ The rock being bare only during short daily intervals, the work necessarily became very troublesome, as well as in some degree critical. All tbe stones were shaped and prepared at * Inch Scaup appears to be the true old name of the rock, implying something at once aa i&laud and a bed of sbell-fish. 208 Arbroath ; and the several courses having been dove-tailed, and cemented together by joggles of stone and oaken trenails, the whole building, when erected upon the rock and properlj^ fixed and cramped, was constituted into one solid mass, which seems likely to defy the elements for centuries. The liglit-rooni is of cast-iron, and the entire height of the pillar is 115 feet. Tbe cost was £'()0,000. In the arrangements, the primitive contrivance of the bell has not been ibrg(itlen : during stormy and foggy weather, the machinery which causes the reflectors to revolve, is made to ring two large bells, each weighing about 12 cwt., in order to warn the seaman of bis danger when too nearly approaching the rock. "\\'ben Sir Walter Scott visited this lighthouse in 1815, be wrote in tbe album kept there the following lines : PHAKOS LOQUITUR. ' Far on the bosom of the deep. O'er these wild shelves my watch I keej) ; A ruddy gem of changef lil light, IJoiind un the dusky brow of Kight ; The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his tim'rous sail. ' A work precisely similar to tbe erection of the Bell Ivock Lighthouse — the formation of a light- house on the rock called Skerryvore, in the Hebrides — was executed between 1835 and 1844, liy Alan Stevenson, son of B-obert, under circum- stances of even greater difficulty and peril : such arc among the works which give great engineers a kind of parallel place in our pacific age to that of the mythic beroes of a primitive one. Of each work, an elaborate detail has been pub- lished by their respective chiefs. A curious circumstance connected with the building of the Inch Scape Lighthouse is men- tioned in a late work : ' One horse, tbe property of James Craw, a labourer in Arbroath, is believed to have drawn the entire materials of tbe build- ing. This animal latterly became a_^;e«5?'oH(?r of the Lighthouse Commissioners, and was sent by them to graze on the island of Inchkeith, where it died of old age in 1813. Dr John Barclay, tbe celebrated anatomist, bad its bones collected and arranged in bis museum, which he be- riueathed at bis death to the Boyal College of Surgeons [Edinburgh], and in their museum the skeleton of the JJcll Bock hone may yet be seen.'* STbc Irrajr Sbafos focrc STttmcb long ago. ' Madam,' said Dr Johnson, in a conversation with J\Irs Knowles, 'we have different modes of restraining evil : stocks for the men, ach(ckiiir/- stoul for women, and a pound for beasts.' On other occasions, the great lexicographer speaks very complacently of the famous remedy for curing shrews, so much approved by our fore- fathers, but, fortunately, already a little out of fashion in the worthy Doctor's time. One of the last instances on record in which the ducking- stool is mentioned as an instrument of justice, is in tbe London Evening Post of April 27, 1745. 'Last Aveek,' says the journal, 'a woman that * Jervise's Memorials of Angus aod the Mcarns. 4to. 1861, p. 175. THE WAY SHEEWS WEEE TAMED. FEBEUAEY 1. THE "WAY SHKEWS WERE TAMED. keeps tke Queen's Head ale-liouse at Kingston, in Surrey, was ordered by the court to be ducked for scolding, and was accordingly placed in the chair, and ducked in the river Thames, under Kingston bridge, in the presence of 2,000 or 3,000 people.' According to verbal tradition, the punishment of the ducking-stool was inflicted at Kingston and other places up to the beginning of the pre- sent century. However, the ' stool' was but rarely used at this period ; though it was very extensively employed in the sixteenth and seven- teenth centuries. M. Misson, an intelligent Frenchman, who travelled in England about the year 1700, gives the following interesting description of the duck- ing-stool. ' This method,' he says, ' of punishing scolding women is funny enough. They fasten an arm-chair to the end of two strong beams, twelve or fifteen feet long, and parallel to each other. The chair hangs upon a sort of axle, on which it plays freely, so as always to remain in tlie horizontal position. The scold being well fastened in her chair, the two beams are then placed, as near to the centre as possible, across a post on the watex'-side ; and being lifted up behind, the chair, of course, drops into the cold element. The ducking is repeated according to the degree of shrewishness possessed by the patient, and DUCKING STOOL, AS PRACTISED AT BROADWATER, NEAR LEOMINSTER. generally has the effect of cooling her immoderate heat, at least for a time.' An illustration exactly answering to this description is given as the frontispiece of an old chap-book, entitled Strange and Wonderful Relation of the Old Woman who zvas droivned at Itatcliff Highway, a fortnight ago. DUCKING-CHAIR AT A VILLAGE WELL. Apparently, in tlie case of tlils aged person, the I hit. A second illustration, which has been fur- administrators of the punisliment had given a dip too much; and, of course, in such rough proceed- ings, a safe measure must have been difficult to 14 nished by a gentleman well acquainted with English village life, represents the apparatus as erected close to a watering trough, into which 209 THE "WAY SHREWS WBUE TAMED. THE BOOK OF DAYS. TnE WAY SHREWS "WERE TAMED. tho patient, of course, was let down by tlio cross- tree, from wliieli the seat depended. Presuuiing this to be the phice whither tlie females of the viUai^e resorted for supplies of water for domestic purposes, we must see that the site "O'as appro- priate ; for, somehow, places whore water is ob- tained, are often the scene of very fiery displays. To make the fountain of tho evil the means of the punishment Avas in accordance with tho tilness oi' tilings. It is but natural to suppose that before any scold was dipped, the community must have suifered a good deal at her hands. ^^'hen at length the hour of retribution arrived, we can imagine the people to have been in a state of no small excitement. Labour would be de- serted. All the world would be out of doors. The administrators would appear in young eyes to have something of a heroic bearing. Men would shout; women would look timidly from doors ; dogs would yelp. The recalcitrations of the peccant dame, her crescendo screamings and invectives, the final smotherment of her cries in the cold but not cooling element, must Lave furnished a scene for a Hogarth or a Wilkie. Failing such illustrations, the reader will accept one from Clarke's Ilistori/ of Ipsivick, in whicli a good deal of what is characteristic of such scenes is displayed. It is impossible to view the picture witli perfect gravity; and yet modern humanity, it must be admitted, cannot quite sanction the idea of employing such means of cor- rection for one of the weaker, if not always the gentler sex. Mr Cole, the antiquary, writing about 1780, says : ' In my time, when I was a boy and lived with my grandfather in the great corner house at the bridge-foot, next to Magdalen College, Cam- bridge, and rebuilt since by my uncle, Joseph Cock, I remember to have seen a woman ducked for scolding. The chair hung by a pulley fastened to a beam about the middle of the bridge ; and the woman having been fastened in the chair, she was let under water three times successively, and then taken out. The bridge was then of timber, 210 before the present stone bridge of one arcli was built. The ducking-stool was constantly banging in its place, and on the back panel of it was an engraving representing devils laying bold of scolds. Some time after, a new chair was erected in the place of the old one, having the same device cai'ved on it, and well painted and orna- mented.' That the cold water cure had a whole- some efi'ect upon the tongues of not a few of the fair sex is agreed on by all old writers who men- tion the subject, poets as well as prosaists. John Gay, in his Pastorals, expresses himself very decisively on this point : ' I'll speed me to the pond, where the high stool On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool : That stool, the dread of every scolding quean.' THE WAY SHEEWS WEEE TAMED. FEBEUAEY 1. THE WAY SHREWS WEKE TAMED. The term Cucking-stool is sometimes used inter- cliangeably for duckiug-stool, the resemblance of the names having apparently led to an idea that they meant the same thing. In reality, the cucking-stool was a seat of a kind which delicacy forbids us particularly to describe, used for the exposure of flagitious females at their own doors or in some other public place, as a means of put- ting upon them the last degree of ignominy. In Scotland, an ale-wife who exhibited bad drink to the public was put upon the Coch shile, and the ale, like such relics of John Girder's feast as were totally uneatable (see Bride of Lammer- moor), was given to 'the pure folk.' In Leices- ter, iu 1457, a scold was put upon the cuck-stool before her own door, and then carried to the four gates of the town. The practice seems a strange example of the taste of our ancestors ; yet in connection with the fact, it is worthy of being kept iu mind, that among the ceremonies for- merly attending the installation of the Pope, was the public placing of him in a similar chair, called the Sedes Stercoraria, with a view to re- mind him that he was after all but a mortal man. In Lysons's Environs of London, there is an account for the making of a cucking-stool for Kingston-upon- Thames ; it is dated 1572, and is as follows : £ s. d. The making of the cucking-stool . .080 Iron- work for the same . . .030 Timber for the same . . . .076 Three brasses for the same, and three wheels 4 10 £13 4 This rather expensive cucking-stool must have been in very frequent rise in the good town of Kingston ; for in the old account books there are numerous entries of money paid for its repairs. In fact, Kingston seems to have enjoyed qxiite a pre-eminence in the matter of shrews, to judge by the amount of money laid out in their taming. Shrewsbury itself lags far behind in the cold- water cure ; for, as stated in the History of Shroj^- shire, it was only in the year 1669 that an order was issued by the corporation of the town, that ' a ducking-stool be erected for the punishment of scolds.' The ducking-stool, the oldest known remedy for evil tongues — so old, indeed, that it is men- tioned in the Doomsday Survey, in the account of the city of Chester — was superseded to a certain extent, in the seventeenth century and later, by another piece of machinery, called the JDranls. The branks was homoeopathic rather than hydro- pathic ; and connoisseurs were enthusiastic in asserting tliat it possessed great advantages over the ducking-stool. Old Dr Plot, in his Sistorij of Staffordshire, informs his readers that ' they have an artifice at Newcastle-under-Lyne and Walsall, for correcting of scolds, which it does so efTectually, that I look upon it as much to be preferred to the cucking-stool, which not only endangers tlic health of the party, but also gives tlic tongue liberty 'twixt every dip, to neither of wliic'h this is at all liable : it being sucli a bridle for the tongue as not only quite dej^rives them of speech, but brings shame for the trans- SCOLD S BRIDLE OR BRANK. gression and humility thereupon, before 'tis taken off": which being put upon the off'ender by order of the magistrate, and fastened with a padlock behind, she is led round the town by an officer, to her shame, nor is it taken off" till after the party begins to shew all external sigues imaginable of humilia- tion and amendment.' The warm - hearted Doctor gives a repre- sentation of a pair of branks, as seen in various cities of Staf- fordshire about the year 1680. The instru- ments look formidable enough, consisting of hoops of metal passed round the neck and head, opening by means of hinges at the sides, and closed by a staple with a padlock at the back ; a plate within the hoop projecting inwards pressed upon the tongue, and formed an effectual gag. We must take it upon the as- surance of so learned a man as Dr Plot, who was keeper of the Ashiuoleau Museum, and Professor of Chemistry at Oxford, and who dedicated his work to King James II., that the brank was a very harmless instrument, and ' much to be preferred to the cucking-stool.' That the brank, or ' scold's bridle,' is of much more modern origin than the ducking-stool, there seems little doubt. The latter was certainly iu use among our Saxon forefathers, whereas no example of the brank has been noticed of greater antiquity than that preserved in the church of Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, which bears the date 1633, with the distich : ' Chester presents Walton with a bridle. To curb women's tongues that talk so idle.' Tradition alleges that the instrument was given for the use of the parish by a neighbouring gen- tleman, of the name of Chester, who lost an estate through the indiscreet babbling of a mis- chievous woman to an uncle, from whom he had considerable expectations. This AValton bridle — which may still be seen in the vestry of the parish church — is a far less terrible-looking engine than Dr Plot's. It is made of thin iron, and so contrived as to pass over and round the head, where the whole clasps together, and is fastened at the back of the neck by a small pad- lock. The bridle-bit, as it is called, is a flat piece of iron, about two inches long and one inch broad, which goes into the mouth, and keeps down the tongue by its pressure, while an aper- ture in front admits the nose. There are still numerous specimens of branks preserved in different private and public anti- quarian collections throughout England. There was, until lately, a brank in tlie old Chester- field poor-house, Derbyshire ; and there is still one at the Guildhall, Lichfield; one at Ham- stall-Eidware, Staffordshire ; one at Walsall, near Wolverhampton ; and one at Holme, Lan- cashire. There was one in the town-hall at Leicester, now in private hands in that town. A brank which is recorded in 1623 as existing at Macclesfield, and is still seen in the town-hall, 311 WILl OF A SMALL FAEMER. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DR BORLASE. has boon actually \ised, as stated by a writer in the ArvluroJoiftcal Journal of September 1856, ■within tlie niemory of an ai^ed offieial of the muuieipal authorities in that town. In Scotland, likewise, there are sundry specimens of gossips' bridles still extant ; and it seems, from various notices, that its nse was quite as frequent for- merly in the northern kingdom as south of the Tweed. Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland, in 1772, records its use at Langliolm, in Dumfriesshire, where the local magistrates had, it appears, their little piece of machinery in constant readiness for any emergency. Dr ^V'ilsoo, in bis Prehistoric AnnaU of Scotland, mentions the brank as a Scottish instrument of ecclesiastical punishment, for the coercion of scolds and slanderous gossips. The use of tlie apparatus occurs in the Burgh IJecords of Glasgow as early as 1574, when two quarrelsome females Avere bound to keep the peace, or, on further offending, ' to be brankit.' In the recoi-ds of the Xirk Session at Stirling, for 1600, ' the braukes ' are mentioned as the punishment for a shrew. In St Mary's church, at St Andrew's, a memorable specimen still exists, known as the ' Bishop's brank,' sketched and noticed in the Abbotsford edition of The 3Ioi}asterj/. Ducking-stools and branks, however, with all their terrors, seem to have been insulhcient to frighten the shrews of former days out of their bad propensities. In addition to them the terrors of the Ecclesiastical Courts were held over their heads, as seen, among others, in the records of the diocese of London, which contain numerous entries of punishments awarded to scolds. The same in the provinces. In 1614, dame Margaret, wife of John Bache, of Chaddesley, was prose- cuted at the sessions as a ' comon should, and a sower of strife amougste her neyghbours, and hath bynn presented for a skoulde at the leete hoidden for the nianour of Chadsley, and for misbehavjung her tonge towards her mother-in- law, at a visytacon at Bromsgrove, and was excommunicated therefore.' The excommunica- tion appears to have had little effect in these and other cases ; for only a few years after the date above recorded, the magistrates of the town of Kidderminster, not far from Chadslej", voted the purchase of ' a bridle for scolds.' Whether the 'bridle' was ever more popular than the ' stoole' is an open question; but, at any rate, both carried it, in the majority of instances, over the thunder of the Church. TJie tiling called excommunication somehow never did thrive in England — not even for the taming of shrews.* AVII,L OF A SMALL FARMER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. From an inventory of the effects of Reginald Labbe, a small farmer, who died iu 1293, we obtain a curious view of the circumstances of an individual of the agricultiu"al class, at that early period. * Kotices regarding the Dackiug-Stool and Branks are scattered throughout Notes and Queries. There are also some papers on the subject in the Archceolocjia and Gentle- man's Magazine. The most exhaustive treatment of it is to be found in a paper by j\Ir Llewellynn Jewitt, in his very pleasing autiquariaa miscellany entitled Tha Reli- quary. 212 llegiuakl Labbe died worth chattels of the value of thirty-three shillings and eight pence, leaving no ready money. His goods comprised a cow and calf, two sheep and three lambs, tlu'ee hens, a bushel and a half of wheat, a seam of barley, a seam and a half of fodiler, a seam of 'dragge' or mixed grain, and one halfpenny worth of salt. His wai'drobe con- sisted of a tal)ar(l, tunic, and hood ; and his ' house- hold stulle ' seems to have been limited to a bolster, a rug, two sheets, a brass dish, and a trijjod or trivet, the ordinary cooking ai)paratus of those times. Pos- sessing no ready money, his bequests were made in kind. A sheep worth ten pence is left to the high altar of 'Neweton,' perhaps Newton -Valence, near Alton, Hants ; and another of the same value to the altar and fabric fund of ' Eakcwode, ' possibly Oak- Avood, near Dorking, Surrey. His widow Ida re- ceived a moiety of the testator's cow, which Avas valued at five shillings, and Thomas Fitz-Norrcys Avas a co-partner in its calf, to the extent of a fourth. It is worthy of note, that the expenditure of the execu- tors upon the funeral, the ' montli's-mind,' and iu proAdng the Avill of Reginald Labbe, consumed some- thing more than a third of all he left behind him, being in the proportion of lis. 9d. to 33s. 8d. Some of the items are singular. Oue penny Avas paid for digging his graA'e, tAvopencc for tolling the bell, six- pence for making his Avill, aud eightpence for proving it, 'Avith the counsel of clerks ;' iu other words, under legal advice. We may safely multiply these sums by fifteen, perhaps by tAventy, to arrive at the A'alue of money in the thirteenth as compared Avith the niue- teenth century ; and by this process Ave shall find that the lawyer or clerk Avho prepared the Avill re- ceiA^ed a fee not greatly disproportioued to the modern charge for such professional assistance. The mourners bidden to the funeral, some of Avhom, probably, bore Rcgiui'dd's body to its resting-place, Avere refreshed Avith bread and cheese and beer to the amoiint of six shillings: the same homely fare at the 'month's-mind' cost the estate two shillings and eightpence. The scribe Avho prepared this account for the executors Avas remunerated Avith threepence, a large sum having regard to the amount of labour. The document is in Latin, from which Mr. Hudson Turner prepared tlie preceding abstract. FEBRUARY 2. "^^t IJttnfitaiiou of ll]c ilirgiir, tommoitlg talUb Citnblcnutss ^ajr. St. Lawrence, Archbishop of Canterbury, 619. 5or«.— Bishop W. Thomas, 1613, Bristol; William Borlase, D.D., 1696, Cormcall ; John Kichols, 1744, Islington. Died. — Sir Owen Tudor, 1461 ; Baldassarre Castig- lione, 1529; Giovanni di Palestrina, 1594; Archbishop John Sharp, 1714; Pope Clement XIII., 1769; Francis Hayman, painter, 1776 ; James Stuart, 1788 ; Dr Olinthus G. Gregory, mathematician, 1841. DR BORLASE, THE CORNISH ANTIQUARY. This accomplished gentleman was born at Pendeen, in the parish of St Just, in Corn Avail, where his family had been settled from the reign of King William Eufus. He was vicar of St Just, and rector of Ludgvan ; and by collecting mineral fossils iu the rich copper-works of the latter parish, OANDLEMASS. FEBEUAEY 2. CAXULl.ilA.-t lie was encouraged to investigate the natural history of his native county. Its numerous monuments of remote antiquity, which had till then been nearly neglected, next led him to study the religion and customs of the ancient Britons. He wrote a Natural Hist on/ of Cornwall, as well as illustrated its Antiquities, historical and monumental, and he contributed many curiosities to the Ashmolean Museum. lie was equally attentive to his pastoral duties ; he greatly im- proved the high roads of St Just, which were more numerous than in any parish in Cornwall. He was the friend of Pope, whom he furnished with the gi-eater part of his materials for forming his grotto at Twickenham. Pope acknowledged the gift, in a letter to Dr Borlase, in which he says, ' I am much obliged to you for your valuable collection of Cornish diamonds. I have placed them where they may best represent youi'self, in a shade, hut sJiininy.' Over one of the arches of the entries to Pope's grotto — which in reality was a passage to his garden under the adjacent public road — is fixed, among other notable objects, a large am- monite ; over a corresponding arch, balancing this object, is the cast of the fossil. One feels it to be a curious circumstance that the great poet should have thus become familiar with an example of the huge cephalopoda of the primitive world, long before any one knew that singular history which geology now assigns them. It must be matter of conjecture whether Pope got his ammonite and its cast from Dr Borlase or some other naturalist. Cunblcmass. From a very early, indeed unknown date in the Christian history, the 2nd of February has been held as tlie festival of the Purification of the Virgin, and it is still a holiday of the Church of England. From the coincidence of the time with that of the Fehruation or purification of the people in pagan lionie, some consider this as a Ciiristian festival engrafted upon a heatlien one, in order to take advantage of the established habits of the people ; but the idea is at least open to a good deal of doubt. The popular name Candlemass is derived from the ceremony which the Church of Home dictates to be observed on this day ; namely, a blessing of candles by the clergy, and a distribution of them amongst the people, by whom they are afterwards carried lighted in solemn procession. The more impor- tant observances were of course given up in Eng- land at the Keformation ; but it was still, about the close of the eighteenth century, customary in some places to light up churches with candles on this day. At Jiorae, the Pope every year officiates at this festival in the beautiful chapel of the Quiriiial. Wlien he has blessed the candles, he distributes them with his own hand amongst those in the church, each of whom, going singly up to him, kneels to receive it. The cardinals go first ; then follow the bishops, canons, priors, abbots, priests, etc., down to the sacristans and meanest officers of the church. Accordiug to J^ady Morgan, who witnessed the ceremony in 1820 — ' When the last of these has gotten his candle, the poor conser- vafori, the representatives of the Eoman senate and people, receive theirs. This ceremony over, the candles are lighted, the Pope is mounted in his chair and carried in procession, with hymns chanting, round the ante-chapel ; the thi-one is stripped of its splendid hangings ; the Pope and cardinals take oiT their gold and crimson dresses, put on their usual robes, and the usual mass of the morning is sung.' Lady Morgan mentions that similar ceremonies take j)lace in all the parish churches of Eome on this day. It appears that in England, in Catholic times, a meaning was attached to the size of the candles, and the manner in which they burned during the procession ; that, moreover, the reserved parts of the candles were deemed to possess a strong supernatural virtue : ' This done, each man his candle lights, Where chiefest seemeth he, Whose taper greatest may be seen ; And fortunate to be, Whose caudle burneth clear and bright : A wondrous force and might Doth in these candles lie, which if At any time they light, They sure beheve that neither storm Nor tempest doth abide, Kor thimder in the skies be heard, Nor any devil's spide. Nor fearfid sprites that walk Ijy night. Nor hiuts of frost or hail,' &c. * The festival, at whatever date it took its rise, has been designed to commemorate the churching or purification of Mary ; and the candle-bearing is understood to refer to what Simeon said when he took the infant Jesus in his arms, and declared that he was a liglit to llyhten the Gentiles. Thus literally to adopt and build upon metaphorical expressions, was a characteristic procedure of the middle ages. Apparently, in consequence of the celebration of Mary's purification by candle- bearing, it became customary for women to carry candles with them, when, after recovery from child-birth, they went to be, as it was called, churched. A remarkable allusion to this custom occurs in English history. William the Con- queror, become, in his elder days, fat and un- ■nieldy, was confined a considerable time by a sickness. ' Methinks,' said his enemy the King of France, ' the King of England lies long in childbed.' This being reported to AVilliam, he said, ' W^hen I am churched, there shall be a thousand lights in France ! ' And he was as good as his word ; for, as soon as he recovered, he made an inroad into tlie French territory, which he wasted wherever he went with fire and sword. At the Reformation, the ceremonials of Ca_ndle- mass day were not reduced all at once. Ilenry VIII. proclaimed in 1539 : ' On Candlemass day it shall be declared, that the bearing of candles is done in memory of Clirist, the spiritual light, whom Simoon did prophesy, as it is read in the church that day.' It is curious to find it noticed as a custom down to the time of Charles II., that when lights were brought in at nightfall, people would say — ' God send us the light of * Barnaby Googe's Translation of Naogeorgus, iii the Popish Kiuf/dom. Ellis's Edition of Brand's Popular Antiqidlies. 213 CANDLEMASS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CANDLEMASS. heaven ! ' The amiabk^ Horbert, Avho notices the oustom, defends it as not snporstitious. Some- what before this time, "(ve find Ilerrick allndinp; to the enstoms of Candhnnass eve : it a])pears tliat the ph\nts pnt np in houses at Christmas were now removed. ' Down -with the rosemary anil bays, Powu with tlio mistletoe ; Instead of liolly now upraiao The gi-eener box for show. The holly liitherto did sway, Let box now domineer, Until the dancing Easter day Or Easter's eve appear. The youthful box, which now hath grace Your houses to renew. Grown old, sm-reuder must his place Unto the crisped yew. When yew is out, then birch comes in. And manj' flowers beside, Both of a fresh and fragrant kin', To honour "UTiitsimtide. Gi"een rushes then, and sweetest bents, With cooler oaken boughs, Come in for comely ornaments. To re-adorn the house. Thus times do shift ; each thing in tm'u does hold ; Xew things succeed, as former things grow old.' The same poet elsewhere recommends very par- ticular care in the thorough removal of the Christmas garnishings on this eve : ' That so the superstitious find ISo one least branch left there behind ; For look, how many leaves there ha Keglected there, maids, trust to rae, So many gobhns you shall see. ' He also alludes to the reservation of part of the candles or torches, as calculated to have the effect of protecting from mischief: ' Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn, Which quenched, then lay it up again. Till Christmas next retm-n. Part must be kept, wherewith to tend The Christmas log next year ; And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there.' There is a curious custom of old standing iu Scotland, in connection with Candlemass day. On that_ day it is, or lately was, an universal practice in that part of the island, for the children attencling school to make small presents of money to their teachers. The master sits at his desk or table, exchanging for the moment his usual authoritative look for one of bland civility, and each child goes up in turn and lays his offering down before him, the sum being generally pro- portioned to the abilities of the parents. Six- pence and a shilling are the most common sums in most schools ; but some give half and whole crowns, and even more. The boy and girl who give most are respectively styled Xing and Queen. The children, being then dismissed for a hohday, proceed along the streets in a confused procession, carrying the King and Queen in state, 214 exalted upon that seat formed of crossed hands wliifh, probably from this cu'cumstaucc, is called the Kiii(fs CJtair. In some schools, it used to be customary for the teacher, on the conclusion of tlie offerings, to make a bowl of punch and regale each urchin with a glass to drink the King and Queen's liealth, and a biscuit. The latter part of I he day was usually devoted to what was called the Candlemass hiccze, or blaze, namely, the con- flagration of any piece of furze which might exist iu their neighbourhood, or, were that wanting, of an artificial bonfire. Another old popular cnstom in Scotland on Candlemass day was to hold a foot-ball match, the east end of a town against the west, the un- married men against the married, or one parish against another. The Candlemass 13a', as it was called, brought the whole community out in a state of high excitement. On one occasion, not long ago, when the sport took place in Jedburgh, the contending parties, after a struggle of two hours in the streets, transferred the contention to the bed of the river Jed, and there fought it out amidst a scene of fearful splash and dabblement, to the infinite amusement of a multitude looking on from the bridge. Considering the importance attached to Candle- mass day for so many ages, it is scarcely surprising that there is a universal superstition throughout Christendom, that good weather on this day indi- cates a long continuance of winter and abaci crop, and that its being foul is, on the contrary, a good omen. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Vtdc/ar Errors, quotes a Latin distich expressive of this idea : ' Si sol spleudescat Maria pmificante, Major erit glacies post festum quam fuit ante;' which may be considered as well translated iu the popular Scottish rhyme : ' If Candlemass day be dry and fah, The half o' winter 's to come and mair ; If Candlemass day be wet and foul. The haK o' winter 's gane at Yule.' In Germany there are two pi'overbial expressions on this subject: 1. The shepherd would rather see the wolf enter his stable on Candlemass day than the sun ; 2. The badger peeps out of his hole on Candlemass day, and when he finds snow, walks abroad ; but if he sees the snn shining, he draws back into his hole. It is not improbable that these notions, like the festival of Candlemass itself, are derived from pagan times, and have existed since the very infancy of our race. So at least we may conjecture, from a curious passage in Martin's Description of the Western Islands. On Candlemass day, according to this author, the Hebrideans observe the following curious custom : — ' The mistress and servants of each family take a sheaf of oats and dress it up in women's apparel, put it in a large basket, and lay a wooden club by it, and this they call Briid's Bed ; and then the mistress and servants cry three times, " Briid is come ; Brlid is welcome ! " This they do just before going to bed, and when they rise in the morning they look among the ashes, ex- pecting to see the impression of Briid's club there ; which, if they do, they reckon it a true fresage of a good crop and prosperous year, and the con- trary they take as an ill omen.' THE PURIFICATION FLOWEE. rEBRUAEY 3. ST WEBEBUEGE. THE PURIFICATION FLOWER. Our ancestors connected certain plants with, certain saints, on account of their coming into blossom about the time of the occurrence of those saints' days. Thus the snowdrop was called the Purification Flower (also the Fair Maid of Feb- ruary), from its blossoming about Candlemass ; the crocus was dedicated to St Valentine ; the daisy to St Margaret (hence called by the French La helle Marguerite) ; the Crown Imperial to St Edward, king of the "West Saxons, whose day is the 18th of March ; the Cardamine, or Lady's Smock, to the Virgin, its white flowei's appearing about Lady-day. The St John's Wort was con- nected, as its name expresses, with the blessed St John. The roses of summer were said to fade about St Mary Magdalen's Day.* There were also the Lent Lily or Daffodil, the Pasque-flower or Anemone, Herb Trinity, Herb Christopher, St Barnaby's Thistle, Canterbury Bell (in honour of St Augustine of England), Herb St E-obert, and Mary Wort. COINS CUT INTO HALVES AND QUARTERS. The discovery of Silver Pennies cut into halves and quarters, though not uncommon in England, is apt to be overlooked by numismatists. In the great find of coins which took place at Cuerdede, in Lancashire, in 1840, were several pennies of Alfred and Edward the Elder so divided. The same was the case with coins of Edward the Confessor, found at Thwaite, in Suffolk ; and wdth those of William the Conqueror, discovered at Beuworth, in Hampshu-e, in 18.33. On the latter discovery, Mr Hawkins has remarked that the halves and quarters were probably issued from the mints in that form, as the whole collection had evi- dently been in circulation. The great find of silver pennies (mostly of Henry 11.) at Worcester, in 1854, comprised a half coin of Eustace, Coimt of Boidogue, and about thhteen halves and as many quarters of Henry's pennies. The collections in the British Mu- seum contain specimens of divided coins of nearly every monarch from Alfred to Henry HI., with whose reign they cease. The practice of dividing the coins no doubt arose from the scarcity of small change, which was in part remedied under the reign of Edward I. by the coinage of halfi)ence and farthings. — A. W. Franks ; Archceolocjia, vol. xxxviii. part 1. FEBRUARY 3. St Blaize, bishop of Sebaste, 316. St Auscharius, archbishop of Hamburg and Bremen, 8G5. St Wereburge, patroness of Chester, 699. St Margaret of Eugland, 12th century. ST WEREBURGE. Wereburge was one of the earlier and more celebrated of the Anglo-Saxon saints, and was not only contemporary witli the beginning of Christianity in Mcrcia, but was closely mixed up with the iirst movement for the establishment of nunneries in England. Her father, Wulfherc, king of the Mercians, tiiough nominally a Chris- tian, was not a zealous professor, but, under the innucuco of hia queen, all his cliildrcn were * 2nd Notes and Queries, vii. 312. earnest and devout believers. These children were three princes, — Wulfhad, Rufinus, and Keured, — and one daughter, Wereburge. The princess displayed an extraordinary sanctity from her earliest years, and, though her great beauty drew round her many suitors, she declared her resolution to live a virgin consecrated to Christ. Among those who thus sought her in marriage was the son of the king of the West Saxons ; but she incurred greater danger from a noble named Werbode, a favourite in her father's court, who was influenced, probably, by ambition as much as by love. At this time there are said to have been already five bishops' sees in Mercia, — Chester, Lichfield, Worcester, Lin- coln, and Dorchester ; and to that of Lichfield, which was nearest to the favourite residence of King Wulfhere, near Stone, in StaS'ordshire, St Chad (Ceadda) had recently been appointed. It appears that Chad had an oratoi-y in the soli- tude of the forest, where he spent much of his time ; and that Wulfhere's two sons Wulfhad and Rufiuus, while following their favourite diver- sion, discovered him there. The legend, which is not quite consistent, represents them as having been pagans down to that time, and as being converted by Chad's conversation. Werbode, also, is said to liave been a perverse pagan, and, according to the legend, his influence had led Wulfhere to apostatise from Chris- tianity. The king approved of Werbode as a husband for Wereburge, but he was stoutly opposed by the queen and the two young princes ; and the royal favourite, believing that the two latter were the main obstacles to his success, and having obtained information of their private visits to St Chad, maligned them to their father, and obtained an order from King Wulfhere for putting them to death. This barbarous act was no sooner accomplished, than Werbode was poisoned by an evil spirit, and died raving mad ; while King Wulfhere, overcome with deep re- pentance, returned to Christianity, and became renowned for his piety. Wereburge now, with her father's consent, became a nun, and entered the monastery of Ely, which had been but recently founded, and which was then governed by her cousin Etheldrida. As a nun of Ely, Wereburge soon became cele- brated for her piety, and, according to the legend, her sanctity was made manifest by numerous miracles. Ethelred, Wulfhere's brother, suc- ceeded him on the throne of the Mercians in G75 ; and one of his first cares was to call his niece Wereburge from Ely, and entrust to her care the establishment of nunneries in Mercia, Within a very short time, assisted by his muni- ficence, she founded religious houses for nuns at Trentham and Hanbury (near Tutbury), in Stairordshirc, and at Wedon in Northampton- shire, of all which she was superior at the same time. She died at Trentham, on the 3rd of February, (599, having declared her will that her body should be buried at Hanbury ; when the pco])le of Trcntliam attempted to detain it by force, those of Hanbury were aided by a miracle in obtaining possession of it, and carried it for interment to their church. Years after- wards, when the Danes ravaged this part of the 215 M' AVEHEBURGE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOnX OF GAUXT. island, the body of St AVoroburge Avas carried for safety from Haubury to Chester, and deposited iu the abbey church there (novr the cathedral), of wliieh she henceforth became the patroness. Such is the history of St Wei-eburge as Me (gather it partly from tolerably authentic history, but more largely from the legend. The latter ■was set forth in English verse early in the six- teenth century, by a monk of Chester named Henry Bradsliaw, uhose book was printed in a black-letter volume, now very rare, by Pynson, in 1521.* Bradshaw's verses are too dull to be worth quotation as specimens of old English poetr}', and the posthumous miracles he relates are certainly not wortli repeating. There is one, however, which gives us such a curious picture of the proceedings of the citizens when a mediaeval town was on fire, and bears also such curious poiuts of resemblance to the description of the confusion in London at the great fire of 1606, that, as shewing how little progress had been made during the period between the time of Henry Bradshaw and the reign of Charles II., we are tempted to give some verses from it. Some houses had accidentally taken fire while the inhabitants were at their devotions in the churches : ' This fearefall fire cncrcased more and more, Piteously wastyng hous, ehambre, and hall. The citizens wore i-edy their cite to succom-. Shewed all their diligence and labour continuall ; Some cried for water, and some for hookes dyd call ; Some used other engins by ci-afte and jjolicy ; Some pulled dowue howses afore the fire tridy. ' Other that were impotent mekoly gan praye Our blessed Lorde on them to have i>itt5. Women and children cried, "Out and waile away ! " Beholdyng the dauuger and jierill of the cite. Prestos made hast divine service to supi)le [comjdde], Piedy for to succour their neygliljours m distres (As charite required), and helpe their hevynes. ' The fire contynued without any ccssynge, Fervently fiamyng ever contynuall. From place to jilace mervaylously rennjaig [run- As it were tynder consumyng toure and wall. The citezens sadly laboured iu vayne all ; By the policie of man was fouude no remedy To cesse [stop] the fire so fervent and myghty. ****** ' Many riall [wijal] places fell adowne that day, Pdche marchaimtes houses brought to distraction ; Churches and c]ia2:)els went to great decay. That tyme was brent [bunit] the more [greater] part of the towne ; And to this jn-eseut day is a famous opinion Howe a mighty churche, a mynstro of saynt Michaell, That season was brent and to ruyne fell.' The citizens, finding themselves powerless to put out the fire, addressed their prayers to St Wereburge, and the monks then brought out her shrine, and carried it in procession through the flaming streets. This, it was believed, stopped the progress of the conflagration. * It may be well to state that this curious poem has been reprinted by the Chetbam Society. 216 ^ora.— Henry Cromwell (N. S.), 1G27. Died. — Svvcyn (of Denmark), 1014 ; John of Gaunt, 1399 ; Charles X. of Sweden, IGGO ; Sir Thomas Lombe, 1738 ; Richard Nash {Bath), 17G1 ; John lieckmann, ISII, Golthifjen; Admiral Strachan, 1828. JOHN OF GAUNT. Edward the Third's fourth son, John, born at Ghent, or, as it Avas then spelt, Gaunt, during his father's expedition to Elanders, in Eeb- ruary 1310, and called from that circumstance, John of Gaunt, has obtained a greater name amongst celebrated princes than his own merits would perhaps justify, probably in some mea- sure from his inheriting the popularity of his elder and greater brother, the Black Prince. John, when two years old, was created Earl of Eichmond. After the death of the great warrior, Heniy Duke of Lancaster, in 1360, John of Gaunt, who had married his daughter the princess Blanche, was raised by his father, King Edward, to that dukedom. In the adven- turous expedition which the Black Prince made into Spain in 1307, his brother John accompanied him. Two years later, accompanjung the Black Prince on a march which he made through France to the English possessions in the south, John took the command of the army, on his brother being obliged by the state of his health to retuni to England. Immediately afterwards John of Gaunt married the Spanish princess Constance, eldest daughter of Don Pedro, whom he had first seen at Bordeaux in 1307 ; and, as her father had been murdered by his rival, the u.surper Don Erique, the Duke of Lancaster assumed in his wife's right the title of King of Castile and Leon. In the continuous wars with France which fol- lowed, John of Gaunt was a brave but not a siiccessful commander, and they were put an end to by the truce of 1374. The Black Prince died on the 8th of June 1370, two years after this peace. Since his return to England, he had espoused the popular cause against his father's government, and thus became a greater favourite than ever with the nation. His brother of Lancaster, on the contrary, was unpopular, and supported the abuses of the court. After his death, John of Gaunt became all powerful in the parliament, and high in favour with his father the king; but iu his hostility to the opposition Avhich had been supported by the Black Prince, he quarrelled violently with the Church, and especially with William of Wickham, Bishop of Winchester, whom he persecuted with inveterate hatred. It is believecl that the Duke's hostility to the bishops was the main cause of the support he gave to John Wycliffe, the great Church reformer, by which he certainly did good service to the English Eeformation in its first beginning, and gained popularity among the Lollards. But even here he proceeded with the intemperance which especially marked his character. The pre- lates, provoked by the encouragement thus openly given to innovators in Church doctrines and government, cited Wycliffe to appear in St Paul's Church, before Courtenay, Bishop of London, to answer for his opinions. He came there on the lOtk of February 1377, supported by the Duke JOHN OF GAUNT. FEBEUAEY 3. BEAU NASn. of Lancaster and the Lord Henry Percy, Mar- shal of England, in person, with a formidable array of knij^lits. The bishop was highly offended by this bold advocacy of men who came there to be tried as lieretics, and high words passed between him and the Duke, who is said to have tlireatened ' to pull down the pride of him, and of all the bishops of England,' and to have talked of dragging liim out of the church by the hair of his head. A great crowd of citizens, who were present, shewed au inclination to take part with tlie bishop, and, further irritated by some proceedings in parliament which threatened their municipal rights, they rose tumultuously next morning, and rushing first to the house of the ^larshal, broke into it, and committed various acts of violence. Not, however, finding Lord Henry Percy there, they hastened to the Savoy, the palace of the Duke of Lancaster, where ' a priest chauciug to meete them, asked of some, what that busincs meant. Whereuuto he was answered, that they went to take the Duke and the Lord Percy, that they might be compelled to deliver to them Sir Peter de la More, whome they uujvistly kept in prison. The priest sayde that Peter dc la More was a traytour to the king, and was worthie to be hanged. "With which words they all cryed, " This is Percy ! this is the traytour of England ! his speech bewrayeth him, though hee bee disguised in appai-el." Then ranue they all upon him, striving who should give him his deaths wound, and after they had wounded him, they caryed him to prison, where he dyed.' The Bishop of London now arrived and appeased the rioters, but not till the great courtiers against whom their wrath had been excited were in great terror. The Duke and the Lord Henry Percy happened to be dining with a Flemish merchant named John of Ypres ; ' but the Londoners knew it not, for they thought that he and the duke had beene at the Savoy, and therefore with all hast posted thither. But one of the dukes knights seeing these things, in great haste came to the place where the duke was, and, after that he had knocked and could not get in, hee sayd to Haverland the porter, " If thou love my lord and thy life, open the gate !" with which wordes hee got entrey, and with great feare hee telles the duke that without the gate were infinite numbers of armed men, and, unlesse hee tooke great heede, that daj^ should bee his last. AVith which words, when the duke heard them, he leapt so hastily from his oj'sters, that he hurt both his legges against the fourme. Wine was offered to his oysters, but hee would not drinke for haste. Hee fledde with his fellow Syr Henry Percy, no manne following them, and, cntring the Thamis, never stinted rowing uutill they came to a house neerc the manor of Kening- ton (besides Lambeth), where at that tyme the princesHC was, with the young prince, before whom lie made his complaint.' The Londoners were summoned before the King, who effected a recon- ciliation between them and the Duke ; but, old Stow adds in his quaint manner, ' in the meane space some men ceased not to make rymcs in reproch of the duke, and to fasten them in divers places of the city, whereby the greater fury of the people might be kindled, the dukes fame blotted, and his name had in detes- tation.' This was one of the last public audiences given by King Edward III., who died ou the 21st of June following. At the beginning of the following reign, the hostile feeling between the Londoners and John of Gaunt continued, but his power had greatly declined, and for a while he took little part in public business. In Wat Tyler's rebellion, when the insurgents had obtained possession of London, they proclaimed the Duke of Lancaster as one of the arch-traitors, and burnt his palace of the Savoy to the ground. John of Gaunt was at this time in Scotland, employed in a diplomatic mission. He had not long returned from a hostile expedition to France, the ill success of which had increased his unpopularity. From this time forward the Duke was involved in frec[ucut Cjuarrcls with his nephew the young king, and they became more and more difficult to reconcile, until at last Eichard was glad to get rid of him by allowing him to carry an army of ten thousand men to Spain in order to recover by force the kingdom of Castile. He landed at Corunna in the mouth of July 1385, and marched through Galicia into Portugal, where the King of Portugal not only joined him with an army, but married Philippa, John of Gaunt's eldest daughter by his first wife. He was at first successful against the Spaniards, but eventually having lost the greater part of his troops by famine and disease, he was obliged to make his retreat into Guieune, and was glad to conclude a treaty Avith the de facto King of Castile, by which John of Gaunt abandoned all his claim to the throne of Castile and Leon, in consideration of a large sum of monej^, and of the marriage of Henry Prince of the Asturias, the heir of Castile, with his daughter by his second wife. On the return of the Duke of Lan- caster from the Continent, he appears to have become suddenly popular, perhaps on account of his hostility to his nephew's favourites. He liad been always accused of aiming at the English crown, and of a design to supplant the j-oung King Eichard; and it is said that he incurred Eichard's final displeasure, by pressing the king too urgently to acknowledge his son Henry of Bolingbroke, heir 'to the throne. From this time John of Gaunt lived retired from court until his death, which occurred at Ely House, in Holborn, on the 3rd of February 1399. It is hardly necessary to add, that within a few weeks afterwards his sou became King of England, as Henry IV. BEAU ^"ASIr, This extraordinary man, to whose amenities tlie city of Bath owes so much, was born at Swan- sea, in 1G73 ; educated at Carmarthen School, and thence scut to Jesus College, Oxford, where his college life was mostly marked by his assiduity in intrigue. He next purchased for himself a pair of colours in the army, which, however, lie soon quitted. He then entered himself at the Temple, to study for the law, but led so gay a town life with- out any visible means of supporting it, that his companions suspected him of being a highwayman. 217 beat; NASH. THE BOOK OF DAYS. StJEEENDEU OF HUME CASTLE. Distrusted at these suspicions, Nash retired to Bath, then one of the poorest and meanest cities iu EugLind. It had its public amusements for the company who iUx-ked tliere to drink the Bath waters, cousistins,' chiefly of a band of musicians, who played under some fine old trees, called the Grove. In 170-1, Nash was appointed ' master of the ceremonies,' and immediately removed the music to the Pump-room. His laws were so strictly enforced that he was styled^ 'King of Bath : ' no rank would protect the oftender, nor dignity of station condone a breach of the laws. Nash desired the Duchess of Queeusberry, who appeared at a dress ball in an apron of point-lace, said to be worth 500 guineas, to take it off, which she did, at the same time desiring his acceptance of it ; and when the Princess Amelia requested to have one dance more after 11 o'clock, Nash replied that the laws of Bath, like those of Lycurgus, were unalterable. Gaming ran high at Bath, and frequently led to disputes and resort to the sword, then generally worn by well- dressed men. Swords were, therefore, prohibited by Nash in the public rooms ; still, they were worn iu the streets, when Nash, iu couseqiience of a duel fought by torchlight, by two notorious gamesters, made the law absolute, ' That no swords should, on any account, be worniu Bath.' He also wrote certain ' Kules, by general consent determined,' to be observed at all public places of amusement : these he concluded as follows : — ' N.B. — Several men of no character, old womeu, and young ones of questionable reputation, are great authors of lies in this place, being of the sect of levellers.' Nash was a sleeping partner in one of the prin- cipal gambling-houses in Bath ; consequently, his life was chequered with vicissitudes. In 1732, he possessed six fine black coach-horses, which were so well matched and paced so well in full trot, that it appeared as if one horse drew the carriage. He kept a coachman, postilion, two footmen in livery, a gentleman out of livery, and a running footman. Many instances of Nasli's benevolence are recorded. He gave away his money freely. A broken gamester, observing him one day win two hundred guineas at picquet, and put the money into his pocket with indifference, exclaimed, ' How happy that money would make me ! ' Nash, overhearing this, placed the money in his hand, saying, ' Go, then, and be happy ! ' Of Nash's gambling life some expiatory anec- dotes are related. The Earl of T , when a young man, being fond of play, was desirous to have ' the King of Bath ' for his opponent, for whom, however, he was no match. Nash, after winning from him several trifling stakes, resolved to attempt his cure. Accordingly, he engaged his lordship one evening to a serious amount ; and having first won all his ready money then the title-deeds of his estates, and finally the very watch iu his pocket and the rings on his fingers, Nash read him a lecture on the fla- grant impropriety of attempting to make money by gambling, when poverty could only be pleaded in justification of such conduct. He then re- turned him all his winnings, at the same time exacting from him a promise that he would never play again. Not less generously did Nash be- 218 have to an Oxford student, who had come to spend the long vacation at Bath. This green- horn, who also atfected to be a gamester, was lucky enough to win a large sum of money from Nash, and after the game was ended was invited by him to supper. ' Perhaps,' said Nash, ' you think I have asked you for the purpose of securing my revenge ; but I can assure you that my sole motive in requesting your company is to set you on your guard, and to entreat you to be warned by my experience, and to shun play as you would the devil. This is strange advice for one like me to give ; but I feel for your youth and inexpe- rience, and am convinced that if you do not stop where you now are, you will infallibly be ruined.' Nash was right. A few nights afterwards, having lost his entire fortune at the gaming table, the young man blew his brains out ! The Corporation of Bath so highly respected Nash, that the Chamber voted a marble statue of him, which was erected in the Pump-room, be- tween the busts of Newton and Pope ; this gave rise to a stinging epigram by Lord Chesterfield, concluding with these lines : ' The staiue placed these busts between Gives satire all its strength ; Wisdom and Wit are little seen, But Folhj at fuU length.' Except a few months annually passed in super- intending the amusements at Tunbridge, Nash lived at Bath until his health was worn out ; and after one of Nature's serious warnings, he expired at his house iu St John's-place, on the 3rd of February, 1761, aged eighty-seven years. He was buried in the Abbey Church with great ceremon}' : a solemn hymn was sung by the charity-school children, three clergymen preceded the coffin, the pall was supported by aldermen, and the Masters of the Assembly Booms followed as chief mourners ; while the streets were filled and the housetops covered with spectators, anxious to witness the respect paid to the venerable founder of the prosperity of the city of Bath. SURRENDER OF HUME CASTLE. Under the date February 3, 1651, we have, in Whitlocke's Memorials, intelligence of the siege of Hume Castle in Berwickshire, by Colonel Fenwick, an officer of Cromwell's army. This seat of a once powerful family occupied a command- ing position at the western extremity of the great plain of the Merse. On its being summoned by Colonel Fenwick to surrender to Cromwell (who had recently beaten the Scots at Dunbar and overrun nearly the whole of Scotland south of the Forth), the" governor answered, ' That he knew not Cromwell, and for his castle it was built upon a rock.' Four days later, there was intelli- gence in London, that Colonel Fenwick was playing with his guns upon Hume Castle, and that the governor sent this letter to him : ' I William of the Wastle Am now in my castle, And awe the dogs in the town Shand garre me gang down.' SUEEENDEE OF HUME CASTLE. FEBEUARY 3. 8T BLAIZE S DAY. So Wliitloclvc j)rint3 or mispriuts the governor's brave answer, wliicli in reality was only a somc- vehat confused version of a rhyme used by boys in one of their games. This spoi-t, as practised to the present day in Scotland, is as follows. One of the party takes his station upon a large stone, heap of sand, rubbish, or any other materials, with a handliercliicf in his hand, and cries out, as a defiance to his companions : I "Willie Wastle Stand in my castle, And a' the dogs in the town 'U no ding Willie Wastle down. They assail him, trying to drive him from his position, while he endeavours to repel them with the handkerchief. Any one who succeeds in driving him off, takes the vacated position, and seeks to maintain it in the same manner ; and so on. The quaint act of the governor in adopting this defiance against the Cromwellian officer, has been the means of certifying to us that the anti- quity of the boy's game is not less than two centuries. The governor — whose name we learn from ■ another source to have been Thomas Cockburn — appears to have made a resistance in conformity with his answer to the English commander ; and it is not till three days after, that "Whitlocke records the great execution which the mortar pieces had done against Hume Castle. The shot had made great breaches and spoilt many rich goods, and Fenwick was preparing for a storm, when the governor beat a parley. ' Fenwick refused to treat unless they would presently surrender upon quarter for life ; which they did ; and Fenwick appointed some officers to look to the equal sharing of the goods among his soldiers ; only the governor's lady had liberty to carry out some of her goods and bedding.'* The rhyme of Willie Wastle was used later in the century with reference to another public event. Mr William Veitch, a zealous Presbyte- rian clergyman who had been persecuted under the Stuarts, but after the Eevolution became a prominent minister under the new establishment, is stated to have preached one day at Linton in Roxburghshire, when it pleased him to make allusion to the late episcopal frame of church govei'nment. ' Our bishops,' he said, ' had for a long time thought themselves very secure, Hke W^mie, Willie Wastle, I am in my castle ; A' the dogs in the town Dare not ding me down. Yea, but there is a doggie in heaven that has dung them all down.'f gt ^lai^e's gag. St. Blasius is generally represented as bishop of Sebaste in Armenia, and as having suffered martyrdom in the persecution of Licinius in 316. The fact of iron combs having been used in tear- * Wliitlocke's Memorials, p. 463. t 'icots Presbyterian Eloquence Displayed. ing the flesh of the martj'r appears the sole reason for his having been adopted by the wool- combers as their patron saint. The large flou- rishing communities engaged in this business in Bradford and other English towns, are accus- tomed to hold a septennial jubilee on the 3rd of Februarj^ in honour of Jason of the Golden Fleece and St Blaize ; and, not many years ago, this fete was conducted with considerable state and ceremony. First went the masters on horse- back, each bearing a white sliver ; then the masters' sons on horseback ; then their colours ; after which came the apprentices, on horseback, in their uniforms. Persons representing the king and queen, the royal family, and their guards and attendants, foUowed. Jason, with his golden fleece and proper attendants, next appeared. Then came Bishop Blaize in full canonicals, followed by shepherds and shepherdesses, wool- combers, dyers, and other appropriate figures, some wearing wool ivigs. At the celebration in 1825, before the procession started, it was ad- dressed by Richard Fawcett, Esq., in the follow- ing lines suitable to the occasion : ' HaU to the day, whose kind auspicious rays Deigned first to smile on famous Bishop Blaize ! To the great author of our combing trade, This day 's devoted, and due honour 's paid ; To him whose fame through Britain's isle resounds, To hun whose goodness to the poor abounds; Long shall his name in British annals shine, And grateful ages offer at his shrine ! By this our trade are thousands daily fed, By it supplied with means to earn their bread. In various forms our trade its work imparts. In different methods and by different arts ; Preserves from starving, indigents distressed. As combers, spinners, weavers, and the rest. We boast no gems, or costly garments vain, BoiTOwed from IncUa, or the coast of Spain ; Oiu- native sod with wool our trade sui)plies, While foreign countries en^'y us the prize. No foreign broil om- common good annoys, Our coimtry's product all om- art employs; Our fleecy Hocks abound in eveiy vale, Our bleating lambs proclaim the joyfid tale. So let not Spain \y\t\i us attempt to \ie, Nor India's wealth pretend to soar so high ; Nor Jason pride him in his Colchian spoil, By hardships gained and enterprising toil, Since Britons all with ease attain the jirize. And every hiU resounds \rith golden cries. To celebrate oiu- founder's great renown. Our shepherd and our shepherdess w^e crown ; For England's commerce, and for George's sway, Each loyal subject give a loud HUZZA. HUZZA!'* A significant remark is dropped by the local historian of these fine doings, that they were most apt to be entered upon when trade was flourishing. There was also a general popular observance of St Blaize's day in England. Apparently for no better reason than the sound of the venerated prelate's name, it was customary to light fires on this day, or evening, on hill-tops or other conspicuous places. Perhaps the Scotch custom of the Candlemass JBlceze, already adverted to, was only St Blaize's fire transferred back to his eve. So determinedly anxious were the country * Leeds Mercury, Feb. 5, 1825. 219 THE AVEUDING EINO. THE BOOK or DAYS. THE AYEDDIXG BING. people for the celeliration by a blaze, that they wouhl saeritieo articles of some importance to make cue. Country -women went about during the clay in an idle merry humour, making good cheer; and if they found a neighbour spinning, they thought themselves justified in making a conflagration of the distaft. In the sini]ile days when England was Catholic, it was believed that, by a charm in name of St Blaize, a thorn could be extracted from the llesh, or a bone from the throat. It was only necessary to hold the patient, and sa)', 'Blaize, the martyr and servant of Jesus Christ, commands thee [in the case of a bono in the throat] to pass up or down ; [in the case of a thorn] to come forth ; ' and the command was instautl}- effectual. STbc talcbbing llinc];. Mj'stic significance has, from the earliest period, been associated with the ring. In its circular continuity it was accepted as a type of eternity, and hence of the stability of affection. The Greek and Roman rings are often inscribed with sentences typical of this feeling. JSLaij yon lice lon(] is engraved on one published by Caylus ; I hr'nig good fortune to the icearer, was another usual inscription ; sometimes a stone was inserted in the ring, upon which was engraved an intaglio, representing a hand pulling the lobe of an ear, with the one word Mcmemher above it. Others have the wish Lice happy, or I give this love pledge. They were lavishly displayed by the early na- tions ; but, except as an indication of gentility or wealth, they appear to have been little valued until Greek sentimentalism gave them a deeper significance. As a gift of love, or a sign of be- trothal, they came into ancient iise. The Jews make the ring a most important feature of the be- trothal in the marriage ceremony. They were sometimes of large size, and much elaboration of workmanship, as in tlie specimen here en- graved, selected from the curious collection of rings formed by the late Lord Londes- borough. It is beauti- fully wrought of gold filigree, and richly ena- melled. Upon it are the words Joy be with you, in Hebrew cha- racters. According to the Jewish law, it is necessary that this ring be of a certain value ; it is therefore examined a' id certified by the offi- ciating Eabbi and chief officers of the synagogiie, when it is received from the bridegroom ; whose absolute property it must be, and not obtained on credit or by gift. When this is properly certified, the ring is returned to him, and he places it on the bride's finger, calling atten- tion to the fact that she is, by means of this ring, consecrated to him ; and so completely binding is this action that, should the marriage not be further consecrated, no other could be con- tracted by either party without a legal divorce. 220 In the middle ages, solemn betrothal by means of the ring often preceded matrimony, and was sometimes adopted between lovers M'ho were about to separate for long periods. Chaucer, in his Troilus and Cresseide, describes the heroine as giving her lover a ring, upon which a love-motto was engraved, and receiving one from him in return. Shakespeare has more than one allusion to the custom, which is absolutely enacted in his Two Gentlemen of Verona, when Julia gives Pi'oteus a ring, saying, ' Keep you this remem- brance for thy Julia's sake ; ' and he replies, 'AVhy, then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this.' The invention of the gimmal or linked ring gave still greater force and signifi- cance to the custom. ]\Iade with a double and sometimes a triple link, which turned upon a pivot, it could shut up into one solid ring. This will be better understood by our second cut, which represents one of these rings. It is shewn first as it appears when closed; to the sides of each outer hoop a small hand is attached, each fitting into the other, as the hoops are brought together, and enclosing a heart affixed to the central notched ring. It was customary to break these rings asunder at tlie betrothal, which was ratified in a solemn manner over the Holy Bible, and sometimes in the presence of a witness, when the man and the woman broke away the iipper and lower rings from the central one, which the witness retained ; when the marriage contract was fulfilled at the altar, the three portions of the ring were again united, and the ring used in the ceremony. The fourth finger of the left hand has from long usage been consecrated to the wedding ring, from an ancient belief that from this finger a nerve went direct to the heart. So completely was this fanciful piece of physiology confided in by the Greeks and Romans, that their phy- sicians term this the medical or healing finger, and used it to stir their mixtures, from a notion that nothing noxious could communicate with it, without its giving immediate warning by a palpi- tation of the heart. This superstition is retained in full foi-ce in some country places in England, particularly in Somersetshire, where all the fingers of the hand are thought to be injiirious except the ring-finger, which is thought to have the power of curing any sore or wound which is stroked by it. That a sanatory power is im- parted to the wedding ring, is believed by the TUE WEDDING KING. FEBEUAEY 3. THE WEDDING KING. peasantry, both in Eno;land and Ireland, who fancy any growth Hke a wart, on the skin, may be removed by rubbin;^^ a Avcddingring upon them. The clasped hands adopted on the gimmal rings becaine a frequent emblem on the solid ^.\ VyAW ^vedding ring. The X^^'i.A..^^/ ^^^^ Londesborough col- lection furnishes us with a peculiarly curious example of the Shakspearian era ; throwing a side light upon a passage in the great drama- tist's TiceJfih Nicjht, where Malvolio, breaking open the letter pur- porting to be in his mistress's handwriting, says: ■ By your leave, wax. Soft ! — and the impres- sure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal.' The bxist of Lucretia, with her hand directing the fatal dagger, appears on the face of this ring ; at the back are two clasped hands ; the whole being enriched by niello engraving. This fashion of ring is still in use in tlint curious local community of fishermen inhabiting the Claddagh at Gah\'ay, on the Irish western coast. They nimiber witli their families between five and six thousand, and are particularly exclu- sive in their tastes and habits, rarely intermarrying with other than their own people. The wedding ring is an heir-loom in the family; it is regularly transferred from the mother to the daughter who is first married, and so passes to her descendants. Many of them still worn there are very old, and show traces of still older design, like that in our cut, whose prototype may have been made in the Eliza- bethan era. The hands in (his instance support a crowned heart, typical of the married state. Within the hoop of the ring, it was customary, from the middle of the sixteenth to the close of the seventeenth century, to inscribe a motto or ' posy,' consisting frequently of a very simple sentiment in commonplace rhyme. The following are specimens : ' Our contract Was Heaven's act. 'men ^ ' In thee, my choice, I do rcjoyce.' ' Grd above Encrease our love.' The engraving exhibits one of these ' posy- rings,' of the simplest form, such as would be in ordinary use in the early part of the seventeenth century. The posy was always on the flat inner side of the ring. Shakspcare has alluded more than once in contemptuous terms to these rhyming effusions. In the Merchant of Venice, Act v., sc. 1, when Portia asks Gratiano the reason of his quarrel with Nerissa, he answers ; ' About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me ; whose pOfnj was, For all the world, like Cutler's poetry Upon a knife, Love me, aiid leave me not.' Hamlet asks at the conclusion of the triple lines of rhyme uttered by the players at the commencement of their tragedy — ' Is this a pro- logue, or the posy of a ring ? ' Yet the composi- tion of such posies exercised the wits of superior men occasionally, and they were sometimes terse and epigrammatic. In 1621, a small collection of them Avas printed with the quaint title. Love's Garland, or i^osicsfov Rings, Handlcer chiefs, and Gloves ; and such pretty tokens, that lovers send their loves. It is curious that the second of the posies given above, and which was copied from a ring of the time of the publication of this volume, is given with a very slight variation in the scries. The custom of placing the heart on the ring is also alluded to in the following posy : ' My heart and I, Until I dye.' The joined hands is also notified in another : ' Kot two, but one Till life be gone.' One of the most complete jingles is the follow- ing = ^ . ' Desu"e, Like tire, Doth still aspire. ' Of a more meritorious kind, are the follow- ing specimens from a manuscript of the same period : ' Constancy and heaven are round, And in this the Emblem's found.' ' Weare me out. Love shall not waste, Love beyond Tyme still is plac'd. ' ' Weare this text, and when you looke Uppou your finger, sweare by th' booke. ' Lilly, in his address to the ladies, prefixed to the second part of his Euphues, 1597, hopes they will be favourable to his work, 'writing the'ir judgments as you do the Posies in your rings, "which are alwaj-s next to the finger, not to be scene of him that holdcth you by the hand, and yet knowneby you that weare them on your hands.' The Ecv Giles Moore notes in his Journal, 1673-4 (Sussex Archaeological Collections, vol. i.), ' I bought for Ann Brett a gold ring, this being the posy : " When this you see, remember me." ' One of the most whimsical of these inscriptions was used by Dr John Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln in 1753, who had been married three times ; on his fourth marriage he placed as a motto on the wedding ring : ' If I surN-ive, I'll make them five ! ' ' My Lady Eochford,' writes Horace Walpole, ' desired me t'other day to give her a motto for a ruby ring,' proving the late continuance of the custom. The most modern form of sentimental or significant ring was ingeniously constructed THE BOOK OF DAYS. AN ODD FVNEEAI-. by Frcucli jewellers in Hie early part of tlie present eentnry. and aftor^vards adopted by En'^lish ones, in ^Ahit-h a motto was formed by the'^arranooment of stones aronnd tbe hoop ; the initial letter of the name of each stone forming amatory words, when combined; as m the iollownig- examples : j> ^^l,y. L apis Lazidi. E mcVald. pal. G arnet. V erde antique. A luethyst. E merald. 1^ iiby. M alachite. J) iamond. E merald. an odd funeral in the time of the co:mjmonwealth. Diigdale has preserved for us an account of the funeral of the -\\-ife of a gentleman, of good means, but cynical temper, during the Commonwealth. The gentleman was Mr Fisher Dilke, Registrar of Shu- stoke ; his >\ife was sister of Sir Peter Weutworth, one of the regicide judges. ' She was a frequenter of conventicles ; and dying before her husband, he first stripped his barn-wall to make her a coffin ; then bar- gained -(^ith the clerk for a groat to make a grave in the churchyard, to save eightpence by one in the church. This done, he speaketh about eight of his neighbours to meet at his house, for bearers ; for whom he pro- vided three twopenny cakes and a bottle of claret [this treat would cost 2s. at the utmost]. And some being come, he read a chapter in Job to them till all were then ready ; when, having distributed the cake and wine among them, they took up the corpse, he following them to the grave. Then, putting himself in the parson's place, (none being there, ) the corpse being laid in the grave, aud a spade of moidd cast thereon, he said, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;" adding, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation ;" and so returned home.'* THE EMPEEOK SEYEEUS. FEBRUARY 4. St Phileas aud Philorcmu?, martyrs in Egypt, circ. 309. St Isidore of Pehisium, 449. St Modau, abbot in Scotland, 7th century. St Rembert, archbishop of Bremen, 888. St Gilbert, abbot in England, 1190. St Andrew Corsini, bishop, 1373. St Jane (or Joan), queen of France, 1505. St Joseph of Leonissa, 1G12. B)rn. — George Lillo, dramatist, 1G93, Moorgate. Died.— iMCms Septimus Severus, 211, York; Egbert Qif England), 830 ; John Rogers, burnt at Smithfield, 1555 ; Giambatista Porta, natural philosopher, inventor of the camera obscura, 1615, Naples; George Abl)ot, archbishop of Canterbury, 1648 ; Rev.Robert Blair, poet, 1746 ; Louis, Duke of Orleans, 1752; Charles de la Condamine, astronomer, 1774; John Hamilton Morti- mer, historical painter, 1779, Aylesbury. THE EMPEROR SEVERUS. Several of the lloman emperors had visited Britain, but vSeverus was the only one who came to die in this distant island. Britain had then been a Homan province full a hundred years, and as such had become peaceable and prosperous, for even the Caledonians in the North had ceased to 222 Life of Sir William Dugdale, 4to, p. 106. be troublesome, and Eoman roads, with accom- panying towns, had been cai'ried up to the borders of the "wild highlands. A still greater proof of the prosperous state of this province is found in the circumstance that its governors could inter- fere actively in the affairs of the Continent, raise formidable rebellions, and even contend for the empire. Such was the case when, iuA.p. 193, the imperial throne became an object of dispute be- tween three competitors, — Severus, Pesccunius Niger, and Albiuus ; the last being governor of Britain. Albinus marched with the legions of Britain, and soon made himself master of Gaul ; but Severus, to equal courage and great military skill, joined an amount of craft and treachery which soon gave him the superiority over both his rivals. Having defeated and slain Niger, he reached Eome with his troops in 196, and hasten- ing to Gaul, fought the great battle of Lyons on the 19th of February 197, in which Albinus also perished. Severus, thus left master of the empire,^ had his attention soon called to the state of Britain. It appears that during these events the Cale- donians had again become formidable, partly through some great ethnological change whicli was going on in the North, partly it is conjectured through an immigration on a large scale of foreign tribes, perhaps from the North of Europe. Virius Lupus, the new propr^tor or governor of Britain appointed by Severus, found himself unable efl'ec- tually to repress their turbulency ; and he was obliged, in the year 208, to write to the Emperor for assistance. Severus displayed in this last act of his life all the qualities which had raised him to power. He determined to assist his proprfctor in person ; aud although it was already late in the year, he collected his army, took with him his two sons, Caracalla and Geta, and, arriving in Britain in an incredibly short space of time, fixed his court at the city then called Eburacum, but now York, which was the station of the sixth legion. The Northern tribes, astonished at the rapidity of his movements, sent envoys to ask for peace, but in vain ; and the vigorous old soldier, who was in his sixty-third year and crippled with painful disease, j)laced himself at the head of his armj^ marched directly into the wilds of the North, in spite of obstacles in overcoming which no less than fifty thousand of his men are said to have perished, and never stopped till he reached the extreme northern coast of Scotland, where he is said to have observed the parallax of the sun, and the comparative length of the days and nights. During this arduous campaign, the Emperor was often carried in a litter, which he was unable to leave for several successive days, but everything yielded before his stern and inflex- ible will. To add to his sufferings, his son Cara- calla, who accompanied him while Geta remained in the south, grieved him by his unfilial conduct, aud not only entered into culpable intrigues against him, but actually on one occasion at- tempted his life. After having thus reduced the Caledonians and ]\Ireat£e, as the two great tribes who then shared North Britain were called, Severus returned in triumph to Eburacum, or York,— it is supposed towards the end of the year 209 ; but he had not FATE OF LA CONDAMINE. FEBEUAEY 4. A EOYAL SPEECH BY CANDLELIGHT. been there long before news arrived tbat tbe Caledonians and Mseata?, false to their oaths, had risen again and invaded the Roman province. "Without delay he gave orders for reassembling the armj', and, declaring in a quotation from Homer tliat he would this time entirely extu'pate the faith- less barbarians, prepared to place himself again at its head. He was at this moment in such a state of exhaustion that he was unable even to walk, and during his absence from the troops Caracalla recommenced his intrigues, and persuaded them to choose him for their emperor. AVhen Severus was informed of this act of rebellion, all his ener- gies were roused, and, mounting the tribunal, caused all who had taken part in it to appear before him, and addressing them fiercely said, ' Soldiers, it is not the feet, but the head which discharges the duties of a general.' At tlie same moment he gave the order to march against the enemy ; but the efibrt was too much for him, and the}'' had not proceeded far before his disease assumed so dangerous a character, that they were obliged to carry him back to Eburacum, where he died on the 4th of February 211. His body was consumed in a funeral pile in the city where he died, and it has been said that the great tumulus still remaining at York was raised over the spot as a monument. His ashes were gathered into an urn of alabaster, and canned to Rome. FATE OF LA COlSTDAJVnNE. The leading incidents of the life of this emi- nent philosopher entitle him to be considered as a martyr of science. A native of Paris, upon leaving college he entered the army, and shewed great intrepidity in the siege of Rosas. Upon his return to Paris, he entered the Academy of Sciences, as assistant chemist. When the Aca- demy were arranging for a voyage to the equator, for measuring an arc of the meridian, with a view more accurately to determine the dimen- sions and figure of the earth, La Condamine was fascinated by the project. 'The very desire,' saj's Condorcet, ' of being connected with so pe- rilous an undertaking, made him an astronomer.' His proposals having been accepted by the Aca- demy, in 1735, in company of ]\OI. Bouguer and Godin, he proceeded to Peru ; on reaching which the natives suspected the philosophers of being either heretics or sorcerers, come in search of new gold mines : the surgeon to the expedition was assas- sinated ; the people were excited against them ; and the country was difficult and dangerous. Bouguer and La Condamine and the Spanish Commissioners quarrelled, and conducted their operations separately ; but the results did not differ from their average by a five-thousandth part of the whole, in the length of a degree of tlic meridian. They encountered great fatigues and hardships, until their return in 1743 ; when La Condamine published an account of his voyage up the Amazon, and his travels in South America. His determination of the figure of the earth, conjointly with Bouguer, appeared later. Among his other scientific labours was his propo- sition to adopt the lengtli of the seconds pendu- lum as an invariable imit of measure. On the 4th of February 1774, he died while voluntarily undergoing an experimental operation for the removal of a malady contracted in Peru. Always occupied, he appears to have needed time to feel his misfortunes ; and, notwithstanding his suffer- ings, he appears never to have been unhappy ; his wit and amiability of temper made him many friends, and his humour was generally successful in blunting the attacks of enmity. A ROYAL SPEECH BY CANDLELIGHT. The opening-day of the Session of Parliament in 1836 (February 4), was unusually gloomy, which, added to an imperfection in the sight of King William IV., and the darkness of the House, rendered it impossible for his Majesty to read the royal speech with facility. Most patiently and good-naturedly did he struggle with the task, often hesitating, sometimes mis- taking, and at others correcting himself. On one occasion, he stuck altogether, and after two or three ineffectual efforts to make out the word, he was obliged to give it up ; when, turning to Lord Melbourne, who stood on his right hand, and looking him most significantly in the face, he said in a tone sufficiently loud to be audible in all parts of the House, ' Eh ! what is it ? ' Lord Mel- bourne having whispered the obstructing word, the King proceeded to toil through the speech ; but by the time he got to about the middle, the librarian brought him two wax-lights, on which he suddenly paused ; then raising his head, and looking at the Lords and Commons, he addressed them, on the spur of the moment, in a perfectly distinct voice, and without the least embarrass- ment or the mistake of a single word, in these terms : ' My Lords and Gentlemen, — ' I have hitherto not been able, from want of light, to read this speech in the way its im- portance deserves ; but as lights are now brought me, I will read it again from the commencement, and in a way which, I trust, will command j'our attention.' The King then again, though evidently fatigued by the ditliculty of reading in the first instance, began at the beginning, and read through the speech in a manner which would have done credit to any professor of elocution. Early Lending Librari/. — lu the reign of Henry TV. was built a Ubrary in Diu-ham College (now Trinity College), Oxford, for the large collection of books of Richard of Biuy, said to consist of more volumes than all the bishops of England had then in their possession. Eichard had bestowed certain portions of his valuable library upon a company of scholars residing in a Hall at Oxford ; and he drew iq) ' A provident arrangement by which books may be lent to strangers,' meaning students of Oxford not belong- ing to that Hall. The custody of the books was deputed to five of the scholars, of which three, and in no case fewei', coidd lend any books for inspection and use only; but for copying and transcribing, they did not allow any book to pass without the walls of the house. And when any scholar, whether secular or religious, M'as qualified for the favour, and demanded the loan of a book, the keepers, provided they had a duplicate of the book, might lend it to him, taking a security exceeding in value the book lent. The reader may smile at the caution ; but we have known some possessors of books in oiu" own day to adopt similar lilies. 223 DEATIT OF FIKST EAEL STANHOrE. TITK BOOK OF DAYS. BELL-SAVAGJE INN. FEBRUARY 5. St Agatlm, virgin m^irtyr, p.itronessof .Malta, 251. The martyrs of Pontns, 304. St Abraainius, bisliO[) of Arbela, martyr, ;>4S. St AviUi', archbisliop of Yioniie, 525. St Alice (or Adelaide), abbess at Cologne, 1015. The twenty-six martyrs of Japan, 1697. Born. — Bishop Thomas Tanner, 1674 (>J. S.), Market Lavingtm ; Rev. Dr John Lingard, historim, 1771, Win- chest.r ; Sir Robert Peel, Bart., statesman, 1788, Bury, Lwicash ire ; Dr John Lindley, botanist, 1799, Cation. Died. — Marcus Cato, B.C. 46, Ulka ; James Meyer, P'lemish scholar, 1552 ; Adrian Reland, Orientalist and scholar, 1718, Utrecht; James, Earl Stanhope, political character, 1721, Chevemng ; Dr William CuUen, 1790, Kirknewlon ; Lewis Galvani, discoverer of galvanism, 1799, Bologna; Thomas Banks, sculptor, 1805 ; General Paoli, Corsican patriot, 1807. DEATH OF THE FIRST EARL STA>^IIOrE. This eminent person carried arms under King William in Flanders ; and Lis Majesty was so struck witli his spirit and talent that lie gave him a captain's commission in the Foot Guards, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel, he being then in his 21st year. He also served under the Duke of Schomberg and the Earl of Peterborough ; and subsequently distinguished himself as Com- mander-in-chief of the British forces in Spain. At the close of his military career, be became an active AVhig leader in Parliament ; took office under Sunderland, and was soon after raised to the peerage. His deatb was very sudden. He was of constitutionally warm and sensitive temper, with the impetuous bearing of the camp, which he had never altogether shaken ofi". In the course of the discussion on the South Sea Company's affairs, which so unhappily involved some of the leading members of the Government, the Duke of "Wliarton (Feb. 4, 1721) made some severe remarks in the House of Lorc\s, comparing the conduct of ministers to that of Sejanus, who liad made the reign of Tiberius hateful to the old Boinans. Stanhope, in rising to reply, spoke with such vehemence in vindication of himself and bis colleagues, that he burst a blood-vessel, and died the next day. ' May it be eternally remembered,' says the British Merchant, 'to the honour of Earl Stanhope, that he died poorer in the King's service than he came into it. Wal- singliam, the great Walsingham, died poor ; but the great Stanhope lived in the time of South Sea temptations.' GENERAL PAOLI AXD J)R JOHNSON. When, in 1769, this patriotic General, the Garibaldi of bis age, was overpowered in defend- ing Corsica against the French, be sought refuge in England, where he obtained a pension of £1200 a year, and resided until 1789. Boswell, who had travelled in Corsica, anticipated intro- ducing him to Johnson ; ' for what an idea,' says he, in his account of the island, ' may we not form of an interview between such a scholar andpbilo- soplier as Mr Johnson, and such a legislator and general as Paoli ! ' Accordingly, upon bis arrival in England, he was presented to Johnson by Boswell, who tells us, they met with a manly ease, 224 ^ mutually conscious of their own abilities, and the abilities of eaeli other. ' The General spoke Italian, and Dr Johnson Euglisli, and understood one another very well, with a little interpretation from me, in which I compared myself to an isth- mus, which joins two great continents.' John- son said, ' General Paoli had the loftiest i)ort of any man be had ever seen.' Paoli lived in good style, and with him, John- son says, in one of his letters to Mrs Thrale, ' I love to dine.' Six months before his death, June 25, 1781, the great Samuel was entertained by Paoli at his house in Upper Seymour-street, Portman-square. ' There Avas a variety of dishes much to his (Johnson's) taste, of all of which he seemed to me to eat so much, that I was afraid he might be hurt by it ; and I whispered to the General my fear, and begged he might not press him. " Alas !" said the General, " see how very ill he looks ; he can live but a very short time. Would you refuse any slight gratifications to a man under sentence of death? There is a bu- mane custom in Italy, by which persons in that melancholy situation are indulged with having whatever they like to eat and drink, even Avitli expensive delicacies." On the breaking out of the Frencb E evolution, it was thought that Paoli, by the influence of his name with bis countrymen, might assist in pre- serving their loj^alty against the machinations of the liberals. Eepairing to Paris, he was graciously received by Louis XVI., and appointedLieutenant- General of the island. The Eevolutionists were at first too much for bim ; but, on the war break- ing out between England and France, be, with the aid of the English, drove the French garri- sons out of the island. On departing soon after, he strongly recommended his countrymen to per- sist in allegiance to the British crown. He thou returned to England, where he died Februarj^ 5, 1807. A monument, with bis bust by Flaxman, was raised to bis memory in AYestminster Abbey. THE BELL-SAVAGE INN BANKS's HORSE. On tlie 5th February, in tbe 31st year of Henry VI., Jolm French gave to bis mother for her life ' all that tenement or inn, with its ap- purtenances, called Savage s Inn, otherwise called the Bell on the Hoop, in the parish of St Bridget, in Fleet-street, London, to have and to bold, withoiit impeachment of waste.'* From this piece of authentic history we become as.sured of tlie fallacy of a great number of conjectures that have been indulged in regarding the origin of the name ' Bell and Savage,' or 'Bell-Savage,' which was for ages familiarly applied to a well- known, but now extinct inn, on Ludgate-hill. The inn had belonged to a person named Savage. Its pristine sign was a bell, perched, as was customary, upon a hoop. ' Bell Savage Inn' was evidently a mass made up in the public mind, in the course of time, otit of these two distinct elements. jMoth, in Loves Labour Lost, wishing to prove bow simple is a certain problem in arith- metic, says, ' The dancing borse will tell you.' This is believed to be an allusion to a horse caUed * Archceologia, xviii, 198. BELL-SAVAGE INN. FEBEUARY 5. BELL-SAVAGE INN. Morocco, or Marocco, wkicli had been trained to do certain extraordinary tricks, and was pub- licly exhibited in Sliakspeare's time by its master, a Scotckman named Banks. _ The animal made his appearance before the citizens of London, in the yard of the BeUe Savage Inn, the audience as usual occupying the galleries which surrounded the court in the centre of the building, as is partially delineated in the annexed copy of a contemporary Avood-print, which illus- THE WONDEEFUL HORSE OF AN. 1595. trates a brochure published in 1595. under the name of 'Marocciis Exstaticus : or Bankes Bay Horse in a Traunce ; a Discourse set downe in a merry dialogue between Bankes and his Beast intituled to Mine Host of the Belsauage and all his honest guests.' Morocco was then a young nag of a chestnut or bay colour, of mode- rate size. The tricks which the animal performed do not seem to us now-a-days very wonderful ; but such matters were then comparatively rare, and hence they were regarded with infinite astonishment. The creature was trained to erect itself and leap about on its hind legs. We are gravely told that it could dance the Canaries. A glove being thrown down, its master would command it to take it to some particular person : for example, to the gentleman in the large ruif, or the lady with the green mantle ; and this order it would correctly execute. Some coins being put into the glove, it wovdd tell how many they were by raps with its foot. It could, in like manner, tell the numbers on the upper face of a pair of dice. As an example of comic perform- ances, it would be desired to single out the gentleman who was the greatest slave of the fair sex ; and this it was sure to do satisfactorily enough. In reality, as is now well known, these feats depend upon a simple training to obey a 15 certain signal, as the call of the word C>. Almost any young horse of tolerable intelligence could be trained to do such feats in little more than a month. Morocco was taken by its master to be exhi- bited in Scotland in 1596, and there it was thought to be animated by a spirit. In 1600, its master astonished London by making it override the vane of St Paul's Cathedral. We find in the Jest-books of the time, that, while this perform- ance was going on in presence of an enormous crowd, a serving-man came to his master walking about in the middle aisle, and entreated him to come out and see the spectacle. 'Away, you fool ! ' answered the gentleman ; ' what need I go so far to see a horse on the top, when I can see so many asses at the bottom ! ' Banks also exhibited his horse in France, and there, by way of stimulating popular curiosity, professed to believe that \he animal really was a spirit in equine form. This, however, had very nearly led to unpleasant consequences, in raising an alarm that there was something diabolic in the case. Banks very dexterously saved himself for this once by causing tlie horse to select a man from a crowd with a cross on his hat, and pay homage to the sacred emblem, calling on all to observe that nothing satauic could have been in- 225 THT3 BATTLE OP PLASSET. THE booe: of days. DEATH OF CHAELES II. duced to perform sucli an act of reverence. Owm^ , perhaps, to this incident, a rumonr afterwards prevailed that Banks and his cnrtal [nag] were bnrned as subjects of the Bhvck Power of the AYorUl at Eome, by order of the Pope. But more authentic notices shew Banks as surviving in Eing OliaHes's time, in the capacity of a jolly vintner in Cheapside.* It may at the same time be remarked that there would have been nothing decidedly extra- ordinary in the horse being committed with its master to a fiery purgation. ' In a little book entitled Le Diahle Bossii, Nancy, 1708, 18mo, there is an obscure allusion to an English horse whose master had taught him to know the cards, and which was burned alive at Lisbon in 1707 ; and Mr Granger, in his Biographical History of UngJand (vol. iii., p. 164, edit. 1779), has in- formed us that, within his remembrance, a horse which had been taught to perform several tricks •was, with his owner, put into the Inquisition.' — Deuce's Illustrations of Shahspeare, i. 214. THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY. The 5th of February 1757 is noted as the date of the battle which may be said to have decided that the English should be the masters of India. Surajah Dowlah, the youthful Viceroy or Nabob of Bengal, had overpowered the British factory at Calcutta, and committed the monstrous cruelty of shutting up a hundred and forty-six English in the famous Black Hole, where, before morn- ing, all but twenty -three had perished miserably. Against him came from Madras the 'heaven-born soldier' Eobert Clive, with about three thousand troops, of which only a third were English, together with, a fleet under Admiral Watson. Aided by a conspiracy in the Nabob's camp in favour of Meer J affier, and using many artifices and tricks which seemed to him justified by the practices of the enemy, Clive at length found himself at Cossimbuzar, a few miles from Plassey, where lay Surajah Dowlah with sixty thousand men. He had to consider that, if he crossed the intermediate river and failed in his attack, himself and his troops would be utterly lost. A council of war advised him against advancing. Yet, inspired by his wonderful genius, he determined on the bolder course. The Bengalese army advanced upon him with an appearance of power which would have appalled most men ; but the first cannonade from the English threw it into confusion. It fled ; Surajah descended into obscurity ; and the English found India open to them. One hardly knows whether to be most astonished at the courage of Clive, or at the perfidious arts (ex- tending in one instance to deliberate forgery) to which he at the same time descended in order to out-manoeuvre a too powerful enemy. The con- duct of the English general is defended by his biographer Sir John Malcolm, but condemned by Lord Macanlay, who remarks that the maxim ' Honesty is the best policy ' is even more true of states than of individuals, in as far as states * See Halliwell's Shakspeare, notes to Lovers Labour Lost, for a great assemblige of curious notices regarding Banks and Morocco; also Chambers's Domestic Annals of Scotland, under April 1596. 226 are longer-lived, and adds, ' It is possible to men- tion men who have owed great worldly pros- jocrity to breaches of private faith ; but we doubt whether it is possible to mention a state which has on the Avhole been a gainer by a breach of ])ublic faith.' Insignificant as was the English force em- ployed on this occasion, we must consider the encoimter as, from its consequences, one of the great battles of the world. FEBRUARY 6. St Dorothy, virgin martyr, 304. St Mel, bishop of Ardagb, 488. St Vedast, bishop of Arras, 539. St Barsanupbius, of Palestine, 6th century. St Amandus, 675. Born. — Antoine Arnauld, French theologian, 1612, Paris; Anne, Queen of England, 1665, St James's; Augustine Calmet, 1672. Died. — Jacques Amyot, Great Almoner of France, 1593; Charles XL, King of England, 1685, Whitehall; Pope Clement XXL, 1740 ; Dr Joseph Priestley, chemist and electrician, 1804, Pennsylvania. DEATH OF CHARLES THE SECOND. The winter of 1684-5 had been spent by the Court at Whitehall, amid the gaieties common to the season. Evelyn could never forget 'the inex- pressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all dissoluteness, and, as it were, a total forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday evening) ' which he was witness of; 'the King sitting and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, 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 w^ho were with me made strange re- flections. Six days after, all was in the dust.' Burnet tells us that the King ' ate little all that day, and came to Lady Portsmouth, his favourite mistress, at night, and called for a porringer of spoon meat. Being made too strong for his stomach, he ate little, and had a restless night.' Another account states that the revels extended over Sunday night until the next morning, when at eight o'clock the King swooned away in his chair, and was seized with a fit of apoplexy ; and, according to Evelyn, had not Dr King, who was accidentally present, and had a lancet in his pocket, bled his Majesty, 'he would certainly have died that moment, which might have been of direful consequence, there being nobody else present with the King, save his doctor and one more. It was a mark of extraordinary dexterity, resolution, and presence of mind in the doctor, to let him blood in the very paroxysm, without staying the coming of other physicians, which regularly should have been done, and for want of which he must have a regular pardon, as they tell me.' The Privy Council, however, approved of what he had done, and ordered him £1000, but which was never paid him. This saved the King for the instant; but next morning he had another fit, and the phy- DEATH OF CHARLES II. FEBEUAEY 6. A "WONDEEFUL CHILD. sicians told tlie Duke of York that Lis majesty was not likely to live tlirougk the day. Then took place a scene, revealing the hypo- crisy of a lifetime ; that is, shewing that Charles, while professing Protestantism, had all along been, as far as he was any thing, a Catholic. ' The Duke,' says Burnet, ' ordered Huddleston, the priest, who had mainly contri- buted to the saving of Charles at Worcester, to be brought to the lodgings under the bed- chamber. ^Tien Huddleston was told what was to be done, he was in great confusion, for he had not brought the host. He went, however, to another priest, who lived in the court, who gave him the pix, with an host in it. Everything being prepared, the Duke whispered the King in the ear ; upon that the King ordered that all who were in the bedchamber should withdraw, except the Earls of Bath and Feversham ; and the door was double-locked. The company was kept out half an hour ; only Lord Feversham opened the door once, and called for a glass of water. Cardinal Howard told Bishop Burnet that, in the absence of the company, Huddleston, according to the account he sent to Eome, made the King go through some acts of contrition, and, after obtaining such a confession as he was then able to give, he gave him absolution. The conse- crated wafer stuck in the King's throat, and that was the reason of calling for a glass of water. Charles told Huddleston that he had saved his life twice, first his body, then his soul. ' When the company were admitted, they found the King had undergone a marvellous alteration. Bishop Ken then vigorously applied himself to the awaking of the King's conscience, and pronounced many short ejaculations and prayers, of which, however, the JKing seemed to take no notice, and returned no answer. He pressed the King six or seven times to receive the sacrament ; but the King always decliued, saying he was very weak. But Ken pronounced over him absolution of his sins. * * * The King suffered much inwardly, and said he was burnt up within. He said once that he hoped he should climb up to heaven's gates, which was the only word savouring of religion that he used.' During the night Charles earnestly recom- mended the Duchess of Portsmouth and her boy to the care of James ; ' and do not,' he good- naturedly added, ' let poor JN'elly starve.' The Queen sent excuses for her absence, saying she was too much disordered to resume her post by the couch, and implored pardon. ' She ask my pardon, poor woman! ' cried Charles; 'I ask hers, with all my heart.' ' The morning light began to peep through the windows of Whitehall, and Charles desired the attendants to pull aside the curtains, that he might once more look at the day. He remem- bered that it was time to wind up a clock which stood near his bed. These little circumstances were long remembered, because they proved beyond dispute that, when he declared himself a Koman Catholic, he was in full possession of his faculties. He apologised to those who stood round him all night for the trouble which he had caused. He had been, he said, a most unconscion- able time dying, but he hoped they would excuse it. This was the last glimpse of that exquisite urba- nity so often found potent to charm away the resentment of a justly incensed nation. Soon after dawn the speech of the dying man failed. Before ten his senses were gone. Great numbers had repaired to the churches at the hour of morn- ing service. When the prayer for the King was read, loud groans and sobs shewed how deeply his people felt for him. At noon, on Friday, the 6th of February, he passed away without a struggle.'* It was the belief of many at the time that Charles II. was poisoned. It was common then and in the preceding age to attribute the sudden death of any great man to poison ; but, in Charles's case, the suspicions are not without authority. Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, says : ' The most knowing and the most deserving of all his phy- sicians did not only believe him poisoned, but thought himself so too, not long after, for liaving declared his opinion a little too boldly. 'f Bishop Patrick strengthens the supposition from the testimony of Sir Thomas Mellington, who sat with the King for three days, and never went to bed for three nights, [j; Lord Chesterfield, the grandson of the Earl of Chesterfield who was with Charles at his death, states positively that the King was poisoned. § The Duchess of Ports- mouth, when in England in 1699, is said to have told Lord Chancellor Cowper that Charles II. was poisoned at her house by one of her footmen in a dish of chocolate ; and Fox had heard a somewhat similar report from the family of his mother, who was grand-daughter to the Duchess. This historical evidence is, however, invalidated by more recent investigation. On examining King Charles's head, a copious effusion of lymph was found in the ventricles and at the base of the cranium ; from which Sir Henry Halford was disposed to think that the King might have been still further bled with advantage. It is quite evi- dent from Su' Henry's account, that Charles II. died of apoplexy — the only too probable conse- quence of his excesses — and consequently that his indifference to the solicitations of those about him, on religious matters, can only, with charity, be attributed to the effects of his disease. || A WONDERFUL CHILD. The annals of precocity present no more remarkable instance than the brief career of Christian Heinecker, born at Lubeck, February 6, 1721. At the age of ten months he could speak and repeat every word which was said to him : when twelve months old, he knew by heart the principal events narrated in the Pentateuch : in his second year he learned the greater part of the history of the Bible, both of the Old and J^Tew Testaments : in his third year he could reply to most questions on universal history and geography, and in the same year he learned to speak Latin and French : in his fourth year he em- ployed himself in the study of religion and the * Miicaulay's History of England, vol. i. t Buckingliam's Works, vol. ii. :|; Bishop Patrick's Autobiography. § Letters to his Son. II Paper read to the College of Physicians, by Sir Henry Halford, in 1835. 227 TIIK TWO T-XKXO"WX SISTERS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MKS EADCLIFFE S EOMANCES. history of the cliurch. and lie -was able not only to repeat -what he had read, but also to reason upon it, and express his own judgment. The King of Denmark -wishing to see this -ivonderful child, he ^vas taken to Copenhagen, there ex- amined before the court, and proclaimed to be a wonder. On his return home, he learned to ■nrite, but. his constitution being weak, he shortly after fell ill; he died on the 27th of June 1725, without, it is said, shewing much uneasiness at the approach of death. This account of him by his teacher is confirmed by many respectable contemporar}' authorities. Martini published a dissertation at Lubeck, in which he attempted to account for the circumstances of the child's eai-ly derelopment of intellect. It cannot be too generally known that extreme precocity like this is of the nature of disease and a subject for the gravest care. In a precocious child, the exercise of the intellect, whether in lessons or otherwise, should be discouraged and controlled, not, as it too often is, stimulated, if there be any sincere desire that the child should live. THE TWO UNKNOWN SISTERS A CORNISH LEGEND. It is from Nectan's sainted steep The foamy waters flash and leap : It is where shrinking ■\vikl flowers grow. They lave the nymph that dweUs below ! II. But wherefore, in this far off dell, The rehques of a human cell ? Where the sad stream, and lonely wind, Bring man no tidings of his kind ! Long years agone, the old man said, 'Twas tokl him by his grandsire dead, One day two ancient sisters came. None there could tell their race or name ! Their speech was not in Cornish phrase, Then- garb had marks of loftier days ; Slight lood they took from hands of men, They ^vither'd slowly in that glen ! V. One died ! — the other's shrunken eye Gush'd, tiU the fomit of tears was dry ; A wild and wasting thought had she, ' I shall have none to weep for me ! ' VI. They found her, silent, at the last. Bent, in the shape wherein she pass'd ; Where her lone seat long used to stand, Her head upon her shrivell'd hand ! VII. Did fancy give this legend birth, The grandame's tale for \™iter hearth ? Or some dead bard by Xectan's stream, People these banks with siich a dream ? VIII. We know not : but it suits the scene, To think such wild things here have been, What spot more meet coidd grief or sin Choose at the last to wither in ! 228 ^" '-• H-^^^'^^^^" FEBRUARY 7. St Tlieodorns (Stratilates), martyred at Ileraclea, 319. St Augulus, bishop of London, martyr, 4th century. St Tresain, of Ireland, Cth century. St Richard, king of the West Saxons, circ. 722. St Romuaklo, founder of the order of Camaldoli, 1027. ST ROMUALDO. Eomualdo was impelled to a religious life by seeing his father in a fit of passion commit man- slaughter. Assuming the order of St Benedict, he was soon scandalised by the licentious lives generally led by his brethren, and to their refor- mation he zealously devoted himself. The result was his forming a sub-order, styled from the place of its first settlement, the Camaldolesi, who, in their asceticism and habits of solemn and silent contemplation, remind lis of the early Egyptian anchorets. St Eomualdo, who died at an ad- vanced age in 1027, was consequently held in great veneration, and Dante has placed him in his Paradiso, ' among the spirits of men contem- plative.' Born. — Rev. Sir Henry MoncriefF, D.D., 1750; Charles Dickens, novelist, 1812. Died. — James Earl of Moray (the Bonny), murdered 1592 ; Dr Bedell, bishop of Kilmore, 1642 ; Anne Rad- cliffe, novelist, 1823, Fimlico ; Henry Neele, poet, 1828, London; M. Bourrienne, formerly Secretary to Napoleon Bonaparte, died in a madhouse at Caen, Normandy, 1834. MRS RADCLIFFE's ROMANCES. This admirable AATiter had, in her youth, the benefit of the society of Mr Bentley, the well- known man of letters and taste in the arts, and of Mr Wedgwood, the able chemist ; and she became thus early introduced to Mrs Montague, Mrs Piozzi, and the Athenian Stuart. Her maiden name was Ward, and she acquired that which made her so famous by marrying Mr William Eadclifle, a graduate at Oxford and a student' at law, afterwards proprietor and editor of the English Chronicle. Her fii'st work was a romance styled The Castles of Athlin and Dun- hai/ne ; her second, which appeared in 1790, The Sicilian Romance, of which Sir Walter Scott, then a novel reader of no ordinary appetite, says : ' The scenes were inartificially connected, and the characters hastily sketched, without any attempt at individual distinction ; being cast in the mould of ardent lovers, tyrannical parents, with domestic ruffians, guards, and others, who had wept or stormed through the chapters of romance, without much alteration in their family habits or features, for a c[uarter of a century before Mrs EadclifTe's time.' Nevertheless, 'the praise may be claimed for Mrs Eadclifle, of having been the first to introduce into her prose fictions a beautiful and fanciful tone of natural description and impressive narrative, which had hitherto been exclusively applied to poetry.' The Romance of the Forest, which appeared in 1791, placed the author at once in that rank and pre-eminence in her own particular stjde of composition, which she ever after maintained. Next year, after visiting the scenery of the MRS EADCLIFFE S BOMANCES. FEBEUAEY THE GBEAT BED OF WABE. liliine, Mrs Eadcliffe is supposed to liave written lier Mijsferies of Udolpho, or, at least, corrected it, after the journey. For the Mysteries, Mrs Eadclifle received tlie then unprecedented sum of £500 ; for her next production, the Italian, £800. This was the last work published in her lifetime. This silence was unexplained : it was said that, in consequence of brooding over the terrors which she had depicted, her reason had been overturned, and that tlie author of the 3fi/steries of Udolpho only existed as the melan- choly inmate of a private madhoiise ; but there was not the slightest foundation for this un- pleasing rumour. Of the author of the Mysteries of Udolpho, the unknown author of the Pursuits of Literature spoke as 'a mighty magician,bred and surrounded by the Florentine muses in their secret solitary caverns, amid tlie paler shrines of Gothic super- stition, and in all the dreariness of enchantment.' Dr Joseph Warton, the head master of Win- chester School, then at a very advanced period of life, told Eobinson, the publisher, that, happen- ing to take up the Mysteries of Udolpho, he was so fascinated that he coidd not go to bed until he had finished it, and that he actually sat up a great part of the night for that purpose. 3Ir Sheridan and Mr Fox also spoke of the Mys- teries with high praise. The great notoriety attained by Mrs Ead- cliffe's romances in her lifetime, made her the subject of continually recurring rumours of the most absurd and groundless character. One was to the effect that, having visited the fine old Gothic mansion of Haddon Hall, she in- sisted on remaining a night there, in the course of which she was inspired with all that enthusiasm for hidden passages and mouldering walls which marks her writings. The truth is, that the lady never saw Haddon Hall. Mrs EadclifFe died in Stafford-row, Pimlico, February 7, 1823, in her fifty-ninth year; and was buried in the vault of the chapel, in the Bayswater-road, belonging to the parish of St George, Hanover-square. THE GREAT BED OF WARE. AYhen Sir Toby Belch {Twelfth Night, Act iii., scene 2) wickedly urges Aguecheek to pen a challenge to his supposed rival, he tells him to put as many lies in a sheet as will lie in it, ' although the sheet were big enough for the bed of "Ware in England.' The enormous bed here alluded to was a wonder of the aj^e of Shakspeare, and it still exists in Ware. It is a square of 10 feet 9 inches, 7 feet G inches in height, very elegantly carved, and altogether a fine piece of antique furniture. It is believed to be not older than Elizabeth's reign. It has for ages been an inn wonder, visited by multitudes, and described by many travellers. There are strange stories of 229 THE PORTLAND VASE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. AARON HILl. people engai^ins; it to lie in, twelve at a time, by ■way of putting its enormous capacity for accom- modation to the proof. It was long ago customary for a company, on seeing it, to drink from a can of beer a toast appropriate to it. In the same room, there hung a pair of horns, upon which all new-comers were sworn, as at Highgate. THE PORTLAND VASE. In one of the small rooms of the old British Museum (Montague House), there had been ex- hibited, for many years, that celebrated produc- tion of ceramic art — the Portland Vase ; when, on the 7th of February 1845, this beautiful work was wantonly dashed to pieces by one of the visitors to the Museum, named William Lloyd. The Portland Vase was found about the year 1560, in a sarcophagus in a sepulchre under the Monte del Grano, two miles and a half from Eome. It was deposited in the palace of the Barberini family until 1770, when it was pur- chased by Byres, the antiquary, who subse- quently sold it to Sir William Hamilton. From Sir William it was bought for 1800 guineas, by the Duchess of Portland ; and at the sale of her Grace's property, after her decease, the Vase was hougJit in by the Portland family for £1029. The Vase is 9f inches high, and 75- inches in diameter, and has two handles. Four authors of note considered it to be stone, but all diifering as to the kind of stone : Breval regarded it as chalcedony ; Bartoli, sardonyx ; Count Tetzi, ame- thyst ; and De la Chausse, agate. In reality it is composed of glass, ornamented with white opaque figures, upon a dark-blue semi-transparent ground ; the whole having been originally covered with white enamel, out of which the figures have been cut after the manner of a cameo. The glass foot is thought to have been cemented on, after bones or ashes had been placed in the vase. This mode of its manufacture was discovered by ex- amination of the fractured pieces, after the breaking of the vase in 1845 ; a drawing of the pieces is preserved in the British Museum. The subject of the figures is involved in mys- tery ; for as much difference of opinion exists respecting it as formerly did regarding the ma- terials of the vase. The seven figures, each five inches high, are said by some to illustrate the fable of Thaddeus and Theseus ; Bartoli supposed the group to represent Proserpine and Pluto ; Count Tetzi, that it had reference to the birth of Alex- ander Severus, whose cinerary urn it is thought to be; whilst the late Mr Thomas Windus, F.S.A., considered the design as representing a lady of quality consulting Galen, who at length dis- covered her sickness to be love for a celebrated rope-dancer. The vase was engraved by Cipriani and Barto- lozzi, in 1786. Copies of it were executed by Wedgwood at fifty guineas each; the model having cost 500 guineas. Sir Joseph Banks and Sir Joshua Pteynolds bore testimony to the ex- cellent execution of these copies, which were chased by a steel rifle, after the bas-relief had been whoUy or partiaUy fired. One of these copies may be seen in the British Museum. The person who so wantonly broke the origi- nal vase was sentenced to pay a fine, or to undergo imprisonment ; and the sum was paid by a gentleman, anonymously. The pieces, being gathered up, were afterwards put together by Mr Doubleday, so perfectly, that a blemish can scarcely be detected ; and the restored Vase is now kept iu the Medal-room of the Museum. FEBRUARY 8. St Paul, bishop of Verdun, 631. St Cuthman of England, 8th century. St Stephen of Grandmont, 1124. St John of Matha, founder of the Order of Trinitarians, 1213. Born. — St Proclus, patriarch of Constantinople, 412 ; Mary I., Queen of England, 1.516, Greenwich; William Earl of Pembroke, 1580; Samuel Butler, author of Budih-as, 1612, Strensham ; Peter Daniel Huet, bishop of Avranches, 1630 ; Charles Henault, litterateur, 1685, Caen ; John Andrew De Luc, Genevese philosopher, 1727. Died. — Mary Queen of Scotland, beheaded at Fother- ingay, 1586-7 ,• Richard Pendrell, who aided in the escape of Charles XL, 1671, St. Giles's, London; Dr George Sewel, historian of the Quakers, 1727, Eampstead ; Aaroa Hill, poet, 1750, Strand. EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. The judicial murder of Mary Queen of Scots ■ — whose life, according to the Earl of Eent, would have been the death of our religion, and whose death was calculated to be its preservation — was performed at Fotheringay Castle, on the 8th of February 1586-7. The minute accounts of the scene, which are too familiar to be here repeated, exhibit a religious dignity, resignation, and apparent serenity of conscience, that tend greatly to counteract the popular impressions regarding the guilt of the Scottish queen. One is at a loss to believe that one who had not lived well could die so well. Heretofore, the strange conduct of Elizabeth' regarding her unfortunate cousin, has not tended to exculpate her from the guilt of authorising the Fotheringay tragedy. But it now begins to appear that she really did not give the final order for the act, but that the whole afiair was managed without her consent by Burleigh, Wal- singham, and Davison, the signature to the war- rant being forged at Walsingham's command by his secretary Thomas Harrison ;* so that the queen's conduct to these men afterwards was not hypocritical, as hitherto believed. The act was so far of an occult and skulking nature, that a fortnight and a day elapsed before King James, while hunting at Calder, was certified of it. It put him into ' a very great displeasure and grief,' as it well might, and he ' much lamented and mourned for her many days.'f AAKON HILL. This extraordinary person — a small poet and great projector — died on the 8th of iebruary 1750, ' in ike very minute of the earthquake,' says * See Strickland's Lives of the Queens of Scotland, vii. 465 + Patrick Anderson's Hiatory of Scotland, MS. AAEON HILL. FEBETJAEY 8. Davies, ' the sliock of wliicli, though, speechless, he appeared to feel.' Aaron Hill was of good family, fortune, and connexions, born February 10, 1685, in a house upon the site of Beaufort- buildings, in the Strand. He was for a short time at Westminster School : when fifteen years of age, he made a voyage to Constantinople, purposely to pay a visit to his relative Lord Paget, ambassador there, and who sent him, with a clerical tutor, to travel through Egypt and Pales- tine, and great part of the East ; he subse- quently travelled in Europe, with Sir William Went worth, for two or three years. In 1709 he published his first poem, CamiUus, in honour of the Earl of Peterborough, who made him his secretary. He next wrote eight books of an epic poem, G-ideon, but did not complete it. He then produced for Drury-lane Theatre his first tragedy of Elfrida, and was next appointed manager of the Italian Opera-house in the Haymarket, and wrote jRinaldo, being the libretto of the first opera that Handel composed after he came to England. For a poem in praise of the Czar Peter, he was rewarded with a gold medal. He appears to have been such a person as Swift loved to ridi- cule — a projector, trying vai'ious schemes, and succeeding in none. We now find him patenting an oil as sweet as that of olives, from beech- masts ; next organising a company for raising plantations in Georgia ; afterwards clearing the woods in the Highlands of Scotland, to fiu-uish timber for the navy, and making potash to rival that brought from Pussia. These several schemes failed. All this time he was writing turgid, declamatory tragedies, or translating plays from the French theatre : his greatest success was a translation of Voltaire's Za?x(, in which Mrs T. Gibber, the excellent tragic actress, made her first appearance on the stage. He was intimate with Bolingbroke and Pope. The latter, falling into a misunderstanding with HlU, classed him with the flying fishes, ' who now and then rise upon their fins, and fly out of the profound ; but their wings are soon dry, and they drop down to the bottom.' Hill rejoined by an epigram, and Pope marked him out for a place in the Dunciad ; a violent controversy ensued, in which Hill appeared to no advantage ; he threatened Pope with vengeance, which led the little bard of Twickenham for some time to carry loaded pistols, and to be accompanied by his big, faithful Danish dog, Bounce. Hill lost all his property by his schemes ; but he for literary fame confidently appealed to pos- terity : ' Yet whUe from life my setting prospects fly, Fain would my mind's weak offspring shim to die ; Fain would their hope some light through time explore, The name's kind passport when the man's no more.' It is, however, a fact worthy of the considera- tion of the Literary class, that Aaron Hill worked much for fame, and in his lifetime enjoyed a share of it ; yet, of all the writings which he issued and which had their day, there is but one little piece — an epigram — which can be said to have survived to our time : ' Tender-handed stroke a nettle. And it stings you for your j^ains ; Grasp it hke a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains. ' 'Tis the same with common natures. Use them kindly, they rebel ; But be rough as nutmeg-graters, And the rogues obey you well' SEDANS. Evelyn, writing at Naples on the 8th February 1645, describes the gay appearance of the city and its inhabitants, adding, ' The streets are full of gallants on horseback, in coaches and sedans,' which last articles, he tells us, were ' from hence brought first into England by Sir Sanders Dun- comb.' It would appear that Sir Sanders intro- duced this convenience into England in 1634, LADY CAEBIED IN A SEDAN, TEMP. GEO. H. and, obtaining a jiatent for it from the king, I It is thus, in regard to its starting in England, prepared forty or fifty examples for public use. | very nearly contemporaneous with the hackney- 231 THE BOOK OF DAYS. EARTHQUAKES IN ENGLAND. coaeli, wliieli dates fVoin 1()25. Not inconsistent, liowever, ■with this stateniout of the general use of sedans, maybe another jriveu on good authority, that one siu'h eonveiiience had previously been used by the favourite Euckinghani, much to the disgust of the people, ■who exclaimed that he ■was employing his fellow-creatures io do the service of beasts. In any comnuinity where elegant life Mas cultivated, the Sedan was sure of favour, being a very handj' and pleasant means of getting carried from one's home either to a private or a public entertainment. In the first three quarters of the eighteentli century, when the style of dress was highly refined, and the least derangement to the hair of either lady or gentleman was fatal, the sedan was at its zenith of usefulness. Then was the gentleman, with his silk clothes and nicely arranged toupee and curls, as fain to take advan- tage of this careful casing as he went from house to house, as any of the softer sex. The nobility, and other wealthy persons, used to keep their own sedans, and have them very handsomely decorated. They stood in the lobby of the town- mansion, ready to be used when required. It must have been a fine sight to see several gilt sedans passing along, with a set of ladies and gentlemen of one family, through the west-end streets of London, attended by link-boys, and being one by one ushered into some luxurious mansion, where company was received for the evening. TV" hen the whole party had been duly delivered, the link-boys thrust their flambeaux into the trumpet-like extinguishers which flou- rished at each aristocratic door-cheek inthemetro- polis, and withdrew till the appointed time w hen their services were required for returning home. In Edinburgh, in the middle of the eighteenth century, there were far more sedans in use than coaches. The sedan was better suited for the steep streets and narrow lanes of the Scottish capital, besides being better fitted in all circum- stances for transporting a finely dressed lady or gentleman in a cleanly and composed condition. The public sedans of that city were for the most part in the hands of Highlanders, whose uncouth jargon and irritability amidst the confusions of a dissolving party, or a dismissed theatre, \ised to be highly amusing. Now, there is no such thing in Edinburgh, any more than in London, as a private sedan ; and within tlie last fe-w years the use of public ones has nearly, if not entirely ceased. EARTHQUAKES IX ENGLAND. The last earthquake of any considerable vio- lence in England occurred on the 8th of February 1750. Such commotions are not so infrec[uent in oiir island as many suppose ; but it must be ad- mitted that they are generally innocuous or nearly so. Even in that notoriously mobile district about Comrie in Perthshire, — where during the winter of 1839-40 they had a hundred and forty earth- quakes, being at the rate of about a shock a day at an average,— they seldom do much harm. Still, seeing that movements capable of throwing down buildmgs do at rare intervals take place, it might be well to avoid the raising of public structures, as church towers and obelisks, beyond a moderate elevation. Perhaps it will yet be found that the Victoria Tower at Westminster is liable to some danger from this cause. According to Mrs Somerville {Physical Geo- c/vaphi/, ed. 1858), there have been 255 earth- quakes put on record in England, most of them slight and only felt in certain districts. The notices of such events given by our chronicles are generally meagre, little to purpose, of no scientific value, and more calculated to raise curiosity than to gratify it. Still, they are better than nothing. In 1101 all England was terrified ' with a horrid spectacle, for all the buildings were lifted up and then again settled as before.'* In 1133 many houses were overthrown, and flames issued from rifts in the earth, "svhich defied all attempts to quench them. On the Monday in the week before Easter in 1185, ' chanced a sore earth- quake through all the parts of this land, such a one as the like had not been heard of in England, since the beginning of the world ; for stones that lay couched fast in the earth were removed out of their places, houses were overthrown, and the great church of Lincoln rent from the top down- wards.' (Holinshed.) The next earthquake of any moment occuri*ed on St Valentine's Eve in 1247, and did considerable damage in the metro- polis : this was preceded by a curious phenomenon — for three mouths prior to the shock the sea ceased to ebb and flow on the English coast, or the flow at least was not perceptible ; the earth- c[uake was followed by a season of such foul weather that the spring was a second winter. On the 12th of September 1275, St Michael's Church, Glastonbury, was destroyed by an earthquake. John Harding, in his metrical chronicle for 1361, records ' On St Mary's Day The great wind and earthquake marvellous, That greatly gan the people all ali'raye, So dreadful was it then, and perilous. ' Twenty years afterwards another was expe- rienced, of which Fabyan, while omitting all par- ticulars, says, ' The like thereof was never seen in England before that day nor since ;' but the very next year (1382) Harding w^rites : ' The eai'tliquake was, that time I saw, That castles, walls, towers, and steeples fyll, Houses, and trees, and crags from tlie hill. ' This happened on the 21st of May, and was fol- lowed three days afterwards by a ' watershake,' when the ships in the harbours were di'iveu against each other with great violence. About six o'clock on the evening of the 17th of February 1571, the earth near Xinaston, Here- fordshire, began to open ; ' and a hill, called Mar- clay Hill, with a rock under it, made at first a mighty bellowing noise, which was heard afar oflT, and then lifted up itself a great height and began to travel, carrying along with it the trees that grew upon it, the sheepfolds and flocks of sheep abiding thereon at the same time. In the place from whence it removed, it left a gaping distance 40 feet wide, and 80 ells long, — the whole field was almost 20 acres. Passing along, it overthrew '* William of Malmesbury. EAETHQXTAKES IN ENGLAND. FEBEUAEY 8. EAETHQUAKES IN ENGLAND. a cliapel standini^ in tlie way, removed a yew- tree growint^ in tlie cliurchyard from the west to the east ; with tlie like violence it thrust before it highways, houses and trees, made tilled ground pasture, and again turned pasture into tillage.' (Burton's General Sistori/ ofEaHhquales.) Three years later, in the same mouth, York, AYorcester, "Gloucester, Bristol, Hereford, and some less im- portant towns, felt the shock of an earthquake, which so alarmed the good people of 2s"orton, who were at evening prayer, that they fled from the chapel, fearing the dead were about to rise from their graves ; but this was nothing to the excite- ment created in London by a similar event which took place on the evening of Easter Wednesdaj' (April 6), 1580. Tlie great clock bell at West- minster struck at the shock, and the bells of the various churches were set jangling; the people rushed out of the theatres in consternation, and the gentlemen of the Temple, leaving their supper, ran out of the hall with their knives in their hands. Part of the Temple Church was cast down, some stones fell from St Paul's, and two apprentices were killed at Christ Church by the fall of a stone during sermon-time. This earthquake was felt pretty generally throughout the kingdom, and was the cause of much damage in Xent, where many castles and other buildings were injured ; and at Dover, a portion of a clifi" fell, carrj'ing with it part of the castle wall. So alarmed were all classes, that Queen Elizabeth thought it advisable to cause a form of prayer to be used by all householders with their whole family, every evening before going to bed. About a centuiy after, according to the compilers of chronologies, Lyme Eegis was nearly destroyed by an earth- quake ; but the historian of Dorsetshire makes no allusion to such an event. On the 8th of Sep- tember 1692, the merchants were driven from Change and the people from their houses by a shock, and the streets of London were thronged with a panic-stricken crowd, some swooning, some aghast with wonder and amazement. This earthquake was felt in most of the home counties. Evelyn, writing from Sayes Court to Bishop Tenison, says, ' As to our late earthquake here, I do not find it has left any considerable marks, but at Mins, it is said, it has made some demolitions. I happened to be at my brother's at Wotton, in Surrey, when the shaking was, and at dinner with much company ; yet none of us at table were sensible of any motion. But the maid who was then making my bed, and another servant in a garret above her, felt it plainl}' ; and so did my wife's lavindrymaid here at Deptford, and gene- rally, wherever they were above in the upper floors, they felt the trembling most sensibly. In London, and particularly in Dover-street, they were greatly affrighted.' Although the earth- quake did little damage, it suliiced to set afloat sundry speculations as to the approaching end of the world, and frightened the authorities into ordering a strict enforcement of the laws against swearing, drunkenness, and debauchery. The year 1750 is, liowever, the year ^jar excellence of English earthquakes. It opened Avith most unseasonable weather, the heat being, according to Walpole, ' beyond what was ever known in any other country ; ' and on the 8th of February a pretty smart shock was experienced, followed exactly a month afterwai'ds by a second and severer one, when the bells of the church clocks struck against the chiming-hammers, dogs howled, and fish jumped high out of the water. The lord of Strawberry Hill, in a letter to Sir Horace Mann, draws a lively picture of the effect created by the event, and we cannot do better than borrow his narration : ' " Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent, That they have lost their name." ' jMy text is not literally true ; but as far as earthquakes go towards lowering the price of wonderful commodities, to be sure we are over- stocked. "We have had a second, much more violent than the first ; and you must not be surprised if, by next post, you hear of a burning mountain springing up in Smithfield. In the night between Wednesday and Thursday last, the earth had a shivering fit between one and two ; but so slight that, if no more had followed, I don't believe it would have been noticed. I had been awake, and had scai'ce dozed again, — on a sudden I felt my bolster lift my head. I thought somebody was getting from under my bed, but soon found it was a strong earthquake that lasted nearlj" half a minute, with a violent vibration and great roaring. I got up and found people running into the streets, but saw no mis- chief done. There has been some ; two old houses fluug down, several chimnies, and much earthenware. The bells rang iu several houses. Admiral Xnowles, who has lived long in Jamaica, and felt seven there, says this was more violent than any of them. The wise say, that if we have not rain soon we shall certainly have more. Several people are going out of town, for it has nowhere reached above ten miles from London : they say they are not frightened, but that it is such fine weather. " Lord, one can't help going into the country !" The only visible effect it has had was in the Eidotto, at which, being the following morning, there were but 400 people. A parson who came into White's the morning after earthquake the first, and heard bets laid on whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up of powder mills, went away exceedingly scanda- lised, and said, " I protest they are such an im- pious set of people, that I believe, if the last trumpet was to sound, they would bet puppet- show against judgment ! " The excitement grew intense: following the example of Bishops Seeker and Sherlock, the clergy showered down sermons and exhortations, and a country quack sold piUs "as good against an earthquake." A crazy Life- guardsman predicted a third and more fatal earthquake at the end of four weeks after the second, and a frantic terror prevailed among all classes as the time drew near. On the evening preceding the 5th of April, the roads out of London were crowded with vehicles, spite of an advertisement in the papers tlircatening the pub- lication "of an exact list of all the nobility and gentry who have left or shall leave this place through fear of another earthquake." " Earth- quake gowns" — warm gowns to wear while sitting out of doors all night — were in great request with women. Many people sat in coaches all 233 DANIEL BEENOUILLI. THE BOOK OF DAYS. BXPEEIMENT AT SCHIEHALLION. niglit in Hydo Park, passing iUAay tlic time witli the aid of c'artis aucl candles ; ' and Wnlpolo asks liis eorrespoudont, 'What will you think of Lady Catherine Pelhani. Lady Frances Arundel, and Lord and Lady Gahvay, who go this evening to an inn ten miles out of town, where they arc to play brag till four o'clock in the morning, and then come back, I suppose, to look for the bones of their husbands and families under the rubbish?' However, the soldier proved a false prophet, and expiated his folly in the madhouse. On the 18th of March in this ycav an earthquake was felt at Portsmouth. Southampton, and the Isle of Wight. In April, Cheshire, Flintshire, and Yorkshire were startled in like manner : this was followed by an earthquake in Dorsetshire in May, by another in Somersetshire in July, and in Lincoln- shire in August, the catalogue being completed on the 30th of September by an earthquake ex- tending through the counties of Suflblk, Leicester, and Northampton. The great earthquake which destroyed Lisbon in 1755, agitated the waters of the three kingdoms, and even affected the fish-pond of Peerless Pool, in the City-road, London ; but it produced no damage. Since then several shocks have been experienced here from time to time, but unat- tended with any circumstances calling for notice ; the last one recorded being a slight earthquake felt in the north-western counties of England on the 9th of November 1852. FEBRUARY 9. St Apollonia, virgin martyr at Alexandria, 249. St Nicepliorus, martyr at Antioch, 260. St Attracta, virgin in Ireland, 5th century. St Theliau, bishop of LlandafF, circ. 580. St Ansbert, archbishop of Rouen, 695. St Erhard, of Scotland, 8th century. Born. — Daniel Bernouilli, a celebrated Swiss mathema- tician, 1700, Groningen; C. F. Volney, French philoso- pher, 1757. Died. — Agnes Sorel, 1450, Memel ; Bishop Hooper, burnt at Gloucester, 1555 ; Dr Rowland Taylor, burnt at Hadleigh, 1555 ; Henry Lord Darnley, consort of Mary Queen of Scots, murdered, 1567; Dr John Gregory, author of A Pather^s Legacy to his Dauglders, 1773, Edinburgh; Dr William Boyce, 1779 ; Benjamin Martin, philosophical writer, 1782 ; Nevil Maskelyne, astronomer- royal, 1811, Flamstead House. DANIEL BERNOUILLI, THE EMINENT MATHEMATICIAN. This eminent man, one of a family which is known in the history of mathematics by the services of eight of its members, was the second son of John Bernouilli, and was born at Gronin- gen, February 9, 1700. His father, though highly famous as a mathematician, was jealous of his own son : it is related that, one day, he proposed to Daniel, then a youth, a little problem to try his strength ; the boy took it with him, solved it, and came back, expecting some praise from his father. ' You ought to have done it on the sjpot^ was aU the observation made, and with a tone and gesture which his son remembered to the 234 latest day of his life. That Daniel in mature life Avas not deficient in ready power is proved by the following anecdote. Koenig, another great mathematician, dining with him one day, mentioned a difficult problem which had long bafHed him ; but he added with some pride, ' I accomplished it at last.' Bernouilli said little at the moment, but went on attending to his guests, and before they rose from table he had solved the problem in his mind. The elder Bernouilli, John, was succeeded in the Academy of Sciences by Daniel, at whose death, in 1782, his brother John succeeded him. Thus for ninety years the Academy never wanted a Bernouilli in its list of members. Daniel spent a great part of his life in Basle, where he was held in such esteem that it was part of the edu- cation of every child to learn to take off the hat to him. The fact of so peculiar a talent passing from father to son, and spreading into so many branches, is very noteworthy ; and it will be found that the subject is followed out in a paper a page onwai'd. THE EXPERIMENT AT SCHIEHALLION. Dr Maskelyne, the astronomer-royal, amongst many investigations in astronomy and general physics, distinguished himself in a special manner by one which had for its object directly to ascertain the attraction of mountains, and remotely the mean density of the earth. The scene of this great labour was the mountain Schiehallion, in Perthshire. Arriving there in the latter part of June 1774, the philosopher and his assistant, Mr Burrow, had a station pre- pared for themselves half way up the south side of the hUl ; afterwards another on the north side. It is a long bare mountain of 3,500 feet in eleva- tion, in the midst of a country purely Alpine, and subject to the dreariest climatal influences. Three weeks elapsed before the learned investi- gator got a clear day for the ascertainment of a meridian line wherein to place his astronomical quadrant. Amidst the greatest difficulties — ^for the season was the worst seen for several years — he was just enabled, before November, to fix approximately the declination which the plumb- line made from the j)erpendicular on the respec- tive sides of the mountain, being 5" 8 ; whence it was afterwards deduced by Dr Charles Hutton, that, if the rock of the hill be taken as that of free-stone, or 2'5 of water, the earth's density will be 4"5 of the same measure (subsequently corrected by Professo-r Playfair into 4"867). The writer of this notice has often amused himself by reflecting on what Avoiild be the feel- ings of the English philosopher, fresh from the Greenwich Observatory, and Crane-court, Fleet- street, on finding himself in a wilderness, whence, but thirty years before, there had poured down a host of half-naked barbarians upon the plains of his native country, and where there had re cently died an old Highland chief and bard (Robertson, of Struan) who had been out with both Dundee and Marr. What, also, would be the conception of his enterprise, his instruments, his measurements and surveyings, adopted by the Clan Donnochie, of the Moor of Bannoch ? What would they thiak when they were told that MUEDEE OF DAVID EIZZIO. FEBEUAEY 9. a man liad come to Scliiehallion to weigli it, — nay, to weigli tlie earth ? Maskelyne tells us, however, in his paper in the Philosophical Trans- actions, that Sir Robert Menzies, the chief gen- tleman near Schiehallion, paid him many hos- pitable attentions, and that he received visits from Wilson, Reid, and Anderson, professors in Glasgow, and from various other men of science, throughout the autumn — ' so great a noise had the attempt of this uncommon experiment made in the country, and so many friends did it meet with interested in the success of it.' The mountain Schiehallion was adopted for the experiment, because it was a lofty and narrow one, whereof the longer axis lay nearly east and west, thus giving a small difference of latitude between the two stations in proportion to the bulk of the mass lying between. Mas- kelyne himself, and even his geological friend and visitor Playfair, might have felt some addi- tional interest in the affair, if they had known that the mountain had been shaped for their purpose by the great ice-flow of the glacial period, the mai'ks of whose passage can be clearly traced along its sides and ridge, up to nearly the summit. MURDER OF DAVID RIZZIO — PERIVIANENCY OF BLOOD-STAINS. On the evening of the 9th March 1565-6, David E/izzio, the Italian secretary of Mary of Scotland, was murdered in Holyrood Palace, by certain Protestant leaders of her court, with the assistance of her husband. Lord Darnley. The poor foreigner was torn from her side as she sat at supper, and dragged through her apartments to the outer door, where he was left on the floor for the night, dead with fifty-six wounds, each conspirator having been forced to give a stab, in order that all might be equally involved in guilt and consequent danger. The queen, who was then pregnant of her son (James I. of England), deeply resented the outrage : indeed, there is reason to believe that it affected her so as to become the turning-point of her life, giving her in the first place a strong sense of the unworthi- ness of her husband, who perished less than a year after. The floor at the outer door of the queen's apartments presents a large irregular dark mark, which the exhibitor of the palace states to be the blood of the unfortunate Rizzio. Most strangers hear with a smile of a blood-stain lasting three centuries, and Sir Walter Scott himself has made it the subject of a jocular passage in one of his tales,* representing a Cockney traveller as trying to efface it with the patent scouring drops which it was his mission to introduce into use in Scotland. The scene between him and the old lady guardian of the palace is very amusing ; but it may be remarked of iScott, that he enter- tained some beliefs in his secret bosom which his worldly wisdom and sense of the ludicrous led him occasionally to treat comically or with an appearance of scepticism. In another of his novels — the Abbot — he alludes with a feeling of awe and horror to the Eizzio blood-stain ; and in * Introduction to Chronicles of the Canonjate. his Tales of a Grandfather, he deliberately states that the floor at the head of the stair still bears visible marks of the blood of the unhappy victim. Joking apart, there is no necessity for disbeliev- ing in the Holyrood blood-mark. There is even some probability in its favour. In the first place, the floor is very ancient, manifestly much more so than the late floor of the neighbouring gallery, which dated fi'om the reign of Charles II. It is in all likelihood the very floor which Mary and her courtiers trod. In the seccjnd place, we know that the stain has been shewn there since a time long antecedent to that extreme modern curiosity regarding historical matters which might have induced an imposture ; for it is alluded to by the son of Evelyn as being shewn in 1722. Finalljs it is matter of experiment, and fuUy established, that wood not of the hardest kind (and it may be added, stone of a porous nature) takes on a permanent stain from blood, the oxide of iron contained in it sinking deep into the fibre, and proving indelible to all ordinary means of washing. Of course, if the wearing of a blood-stained fioor by the tread of feet were to be carried beyond the depth to which the blood had sunk, the stain would bo obliterated. But it happens in the case of the Holyrood mark, that the two blotches of which it consisted are out of the line over which feet would chiefly pass in coming into or leaving the room. Indeed, that line appears to pass through and divide the stain, — a circumstance in no small degree favourable to its genuineness. Alleged examples of blood-stains of old stand- ing both upon wood and stone are reported from many places. We give a few extracted from the Notes and Queries. Amidst the horrors of the French Eevolution, eighty priests were massa- cred in the chapel of the convent of the Carme- lites at Paris. The stains of blood are still to be seen on the walls and floor. 'At Cothele, a mansion on the banks of the Tamar, the marks are still visible of the blood spilt by the lord of the manor, when, for supposed treachery, he slew the warder of the drawbridge.' 'About fifty years ago, there was a dance at Kirton-in- Lindsey : during the evening a young girl broke a blood-vessel and expired in the room. I have been told that the marks of her blood are still to be seen. At the same town, about twenty years ago, an old man and his sister were mur- dered in an extremely brutal manner, and their cottage floor was deluged with blood, the stains of which are believed yet to remain.' TALENTS — FROM WHICH PARENT USUALLY DERIVED ? There is a prevalent, but nowhere Avcll-arguod idea, that talents are usually, if not always, de- rived from the mother. One could wish that a notion so complimentary to the amiable sex Avere true ; but it scarcely is so. There are, certainly, some striking instances of mother-derived abilities ; none more so than that presented by the man perhaps the most distin- guished for general abilities in our age — Henry Lord Brougham, whose mother, a niece of Prin- cipal Eobertson, was a woman of the finest intel- ^ 235 TALEXTS. THE BOOZ OF DAYS. SHKOVE TUESDAY. lectuiil properties, while ilio father was of but ordinary shifts. Of like notableuess is the case of Sir AValter Seott ; the mother sagacious in an extraordinary measure, the father a plain good man, and no'more. But look, on the other hand, at two other able men of the last and present epochs, Lorj.1 ]\laoa\day and llobcrt Burns. In their cases, the phenomenon was precisely the converse : that is, clever lather, ordinary mother. It is only too easy to point to instances of father and son standing as noted for talent, while we hear nothing of the mother. Binities like Bernardo and Torquato Tasso, John and Daniel Bernouilli, William and John Herschel. James and John Stuart Mill, Chatham and AVilliam Pitt, George and Eobert Stephenson, Carlo and Horace Vernet, abound in our biographical dic- tionaries. Another fact, connected less pointedly with the subject, but in itself of some value, is aiso pretty clearly shewn in these compilations ; namely, how often a man of eminence in the world" of thought and taste is the son of a man who was engaged in some hiimble capacity con- nected with the departments in which his son excelled : — Mozart, for instance, the son of a capell-meister ; James Watt, the son of a teacher of mathematics. There are, however, instances of the descent of superior mental qualities through a greater number of generations than two, with a presum- able transmission from the father to the son, while mothers are unheard of. The amiable Patrick Fraser Ty tier, who wrote the best history of Scotland extant, was son to the accomplished Alexander Fraser Tytler (commonly styled Lord Woodhouselee), who wrote several books of good repute, and was, in turn, the son of William Tytler, author of the Enquiry into the Evidence acjainst Marij Queen of Scots. The late Profes- sor William Gregory, a man of the highest scien- tific accomplishments, was the son of Dr James Gregory, a professor of distinguished ability, author of the well-known Conspectus Ifedicince, who was the son of Dr John Gregory, author of the Eather s Le(jacijto his Daughters, aiiA. other works; whose father, an eminent Aberdeen professor, was the son of James Gregor}', right eminent as a mathematician, and the inventor of the reflect- ing telescope. It is, however, to be remarked that the talents of this last gentleman, and of his scarcely less distinguished brother David, are supposed to have been inherited from their mother, who was the daughter of an ingenious, busy-brained man of some local celebrity. jN'ot less remarkable is the series of the Sheridans. It seems to have started as a line of able men with Dr Thomas Sheridan, of Dublin, the friend of Swift ; who was the son of another Dr Thomas Sheridan, and the nephew of a Bishop of Kilmore. Next came Mr Thomas Sheridan, of elocution-teaching memory, a man of lively talents ; next the famed llichard Brinsley ; next Thomas Sheridan, in whom there were brilliant abilities, though through iinfortu- nate circumstances they never came to any effective demonstration. Among the children of this last, we find Lady DuSerin and the Hon Mrs Korton, both brilliant women ; and from Lady DufFerin, again, comes a son, Lord DufFerin, 236 whose Arctic yacht voyage has given his name the stamp of talent at a very early age. Of the five Sheridans, who stand here in succession, we hear of but one (Hi chard) whose mother has left any fame for abilities. With these facts before us, and it would be easy to multiply them, it must plainly appear that the inheritance of talent from a mother is not a rule. At the utmost, it is a fact only possi- ble, or which has an equal chance of occurring with its opposite. . Most probably, people are led to make a rule of it by the propensity to para- dox, or by reason of their remarking mother- descended talent as something unexpected, while they overlook the instances of the contrary phenomenon. Let us speculate as we may, there are mys- teries about the rise of uncommon abilities that we shall probably never penetrate. Whence should have come the singular genius of a Lawrence — son to a simple inn-keeping pair on the Bath-road ? Whence the not less wonderful gifts of a Wilkie — child of a plain Scotch minis- ter and his wife — the mother so commonplace that, hearing how David was so much admired, she expressed surprise at their never saying anything of George — a respectable young grocer, who, being of goodly looks, had more pleased a mother's eye ? Whence should the marvellous thought-power of Shakspeare have been derived — his parents being, to all appearance, undis- tinguished from thousands of other Stratfordians who never had sons or daughters different from the nudtitude ? Shrove Tuesday derives its name from the ancient practice, in the Chiirch of E-ome, of con- fessing sins, and being shrived or shrove, i.e. obtaining absolution, on this day. Being the day prior to the beginning of Lent, it may occur on any one between the 2nd of February and the 8th of March. In Scotland, it is called Fasten's E'en, but is little regarded in that Presbyterian country. The character of the day as a popular festival is mirthful : it is a season of carnival- like jollity and drollery — ' Welcome, merry Shrovetide ! ' truly sings Master Silence. The merriment began, strictly speaking, the day before, being what was called CoJlop Mon- day, from the practice of eating coUops of salted meat and eggs on that day. Then did the boys begin their Shrovetide perambulations in quest of little treats which their senior neighbours used to have in store for them — singing : ' Shrovetide is nigh at hand, And I be come a shroving ; Pray, dame, something. An apple or a dumpling.' When Shrove Tuesday dawned, the bells were set a ringing, and everybody abandoned him- self to amusement and good humour. All through the day, there was a preparing and devouring of pancakes, as if some profoundly important religious principle were involved in it. The pancake and Shrove Tuesday are inextri- cably associated in the popular mind and in old SHEOVE TUESDAY. ]7EBEUARY 9. SHEOVE TTTESDAY. literature. Befoi*e being eaten, there was always a great deal of contention among the eaters, to see wkich could most adroitly toss tliem in the pan. Shakspearc makes his clown in All's Well iJiat Ends Well speak of something being ' as fit as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday.' It will bo recollected that the parishioners of the Vicar of Wakefield ' religiously ate pancakes at Shrove- tide.' Hear also our quaint old friend, the "Water Poet — ' Shrove Tuesday, at whose entrance in the morning all the whole kingdom is in quiet, but by that time the clock strikes eleven, which (by the help of a knavish sexton) is commonly before nine, there is a bell rung called Pancake Bell, the sound whereof makes thousands of people distracted, and forgetful either of manners or humanity. Then there is a thing called wheaten flour, wiiich the cooks do mingle with water, eggs, spice, and other tragical, magical enchant- ments, and then they put it by little and little into a frying-pan of boiling suet, where it makes a con- fused dismal hissing (like tlie Lernian snakes in the reeds of Acheron), until at last, by the skill of the cook, it is transformed into the form of a flip-jack, called a pancake, irhic/i ominous incanta- tion the ignorant feople do devour very greedily.' It was customary to present the first pancake to the greatest slut or lie-a-bed of the party, ' which commonly falls to the dog's share at last, for no one will own it their due.' Some allu- sion is probably made to the latter custom in a couplet placed opposite Shrove Tuesday in Foor Robins Almanack for 1677 : ' Pancakes are eat by greedy gut, And Hob and Madge run for the slut.^ In the time of Elizabeth, it was a practice at Eton for the cook to fasten a pancake to a crow (the ancient equivalent of the knocker) upon the school door. At Westminster School, the following custom is obsei'vedto this day : — At 11 o'clock a.m. a verger of the Abbey, in his gown, bearing a silver baton, emerges from the college kitchen, followed by the cook of the school, in his white apron, jacket, and cap, and carrying a pancake. On arriving at the school-room door, he announces himself, ' The cook;' and having entered the school-room, he advances to the bar which separates the upper school from the lower one, twirls the pancake in the pan, and then tosses it over the bar into the upper school, among a crowd of boys, who scramble for the pancake ; and he wlio gets it unbroken, and THROWIXG THE PANCAKE ON SHROVE TUESDAY IN WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. carries it to the deanery, demands the honorarium of a guinea (sometimes two guineas), from tlic Abbey funds, though the custom is not mentioned in the Abbey statutes : the cook also receives two guineas for his performance. Among the revels which marked the day. foot- 237 SUKOVE TUESDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SHEOVE TUESDAY. ball seems in most places to Lave been con- spicuous. The London apprentices enjoyed it in Finsbury Fields. At Teddington, it was con- ducted Avitli such animation tliat careful house- holders had to protect their windows with hurdles and bushes. There is perhaj^is uo part of the United Kingdom where this Shrovetide sport is kept up with so much energy as at the village of Scone, near Perth, in Scotland. The men of the parish assemble at the cross, the married on one side and the bachelors on the other ; a ball is thrown up, and they play from two o'clock till sunset. A person who witnessed the sport in the latter part of the last century, thus describes it : ' The game was this : he who at any time got the ball into his hands, ran with it till overtaken by one of the opposite party ; and then, if he could shake himself loose from those on the opposite side who seized him, he ran on ; if not, he threw the ball from him, unless it was wrested from him by the other party, but no party was allowed to kick it. The object of the married men was to hang it, that is, to put it three times into a small hole on the moor, which was the dool, or limit, on the one hand : that of the bachelors was to droivn it, or dip it three times in a deep place in the river, the limit on the other : the party who could effect either of these objects won the game ; if neither one, the ball was cut into equal parts at sunset. In the course of the play, there was usually some violence between the parties ; but it is a proverb in this part of the country, that " A' is fair at the ba' o' Scone." ' Taylor, the Water Poet, alludes to the custom of a fellow carrying about ' an ensign made of a piece of a baker's mawkin fixed upon a broom- staff,' and making orations of nonsense to the people. Perhaps this custom may have been of a sunilar nature and design to one practised in France on Ash Wednesday. The people there ' carry an efSgy, similar to our Gruy Fawkes, round the adjacent villages, and collect money for his funeral, as this day, according to their creed, is the burial of good living. After sundry absurd mummeries, the corpse is deposited in the earth.'* In the latter part of the last cen- tury, a curious custom of a similar nature still survived in Kent. A group of girls engaged themselves at one part of a village in burning an uncouth image, which they called a holly hoy, and which they had stolen from the boys ; while the boys were to be found in another part of the village burning a like effigy, which they called the ivy girl, and which they had stolen from the girls ; the ceremony being in both cases accom- panied by loud huzzas.f These are fashions, we humbly opine, smacking of a very early and pro- bably pagan origin. At Bromfield, in Cumber- land, there used to be a still more remarkable custom. The scholars of the free school of that parish assumed a right, from old use and wont, to bar out the master, and keep him out for three days. During the period of this expulsion, the doors were strongly barricaded within ; and the boys, who defended it like a besieged city, were armed in general with guns made of the hollow * Morniti'j Chronicle, March 10, 1791. t Gentleman's Magazine, 1779, 23S twigs of the elder, or bore-tree. The master, meanwhile, made various efforts, 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 sub- mitted to ; but it more commonly happened that all his efforts were unavailing. In this case, after three days' siege, terms of capitulation were proposed by the master and accepted by the boys. The terms always included permission to enjoy a full allowance of Shrovetide sports.* In days not very long gone by, the inhumane sport of ihroiLilng at cocks was practised at Shrovetide, and nowhere was it more certain to be seen than at the grammar-schools. The poor animal was tied to a stake by a short cord, and the unthinking men and boys who were to throw at it, took their station at the distance of about twenty yards. Where the cock belonged to some one disposed to make it a matter of business, twopence was paid for three shies at it, the missile iised being a broomstick. The sport Avas continued till the poor creature was killed out- right by the blows. Such tumult and outrage a,ttended this inhuman sport a century ago, that, according to a writer in the Gentleman's Maga- zine, it was sometimes dangerous to be near the place where it was practised. Hens were also the subjects of popular amusement at this festival. It was customary in Cornwall to take any one which had not laid eggs before Shrove-Tuesday, and lay it on a barn-fioor to be thrashed to death. A man hit at her with a flail ; and if he suc- ceeded in killing her therewith, he got her for his pains. It was customary for a fellow to get a hen tied to his back, with some horse-bells hung beside it. A number of other fellows, blind- folded, with boughs in their hands, followed him by the sound of the bells, endeavouring to get a stroke at the bird. This gave occasion to much merriment, for sometimes the man was hit instead of the hen, and sometimes the assailants hit eacli other instead of either. At the conclusion, the hen was boiled with bacon, and added to the usual pancake feast. Cock-fights were also common on this day. Strange to say, they were in many instances the sanctioned sport of public schools, the master receiving on the occasion a small tax from the boys xmder the name of a cocJc-penny. Perhaps this last practice took its rise in the circumstance of the master supplying the cocks, which seems to have been the custom in some places in a remote age. Such cock- fights regularly took place on Fasten's E'en in many parts of Scotland till the middle of the eighteenth century, the master j)residing at the battle, and enjoying the perquisite of all the runaway cocks, which were technically called fugles. Nay, so late as 1790, the minister of Applecx'oss, in Koss-shire, in the account of his parish, states the schoolmaster's income as com- posed of two hundred merks, with Is. 6d. and 2s. 6d. per quarter from each scholar, and the coclc-Jight dues, which are equal to one quarter's payment for each scholar, f The other Shrovetide observances were chiefly * Hutchinson's History of Cumberland. + Cock-fighting is now legally a misdemeanour, and punishable by penalty. SHEOVE TUESDAY. FEBRUAEY 9. OLD GEAMMAE-SCHOOIi CUSTOMS. of a local nature. TKe old lolays make us aware of a licence ■wkicli tlie Loudou prentices took on this occasion to assail houses of dubious repute, and cart the unfortunate inmates through the city. This seems to have been done partly under favour of a privilege which the common people assumed at this time of breaking down doors for sport, and of which we have perhaps some remains, in a practice which still exists in some remote districts, of throwing broken crockery and other rubbish at doors. In Dorsetshire and Wiltshire, if not in other counties, the latter practice is called Lent Crocking, The boys go round in small parties, headed by a leader, 'who goes up and knocks at the door, leaving his followers behind him, armed with a good stock of potsherds — the collected relics of the washing- pans, jugs, dishes, and plates, that have become the victims of concussion in the hands of un- lucky or careless housewives for the past year. When the door is opened, the hero, — who is perhaps a farmer's boy, with a pair of black eyes sparkling under the tattered brim of his brown milking-hat, — hangs down his head, and, with one corner of his mouth turned iip into an irre- pressible smile, pronounces the following lines : A-shroviu, a-shrovin, I be come a-shrovin ; A i)iece of bread, a piece of cheese, A bit of yoiu- fat bacon. Or a dish of dough-uuts. All of your own makin ! A-shrovin, a-shrovin, I be come a-shrovin, Nice meat in a pie. My mouth is very dry ! I wish a wuz zoo well-a-wet I'de zing the louder for a nut ! Chorus — ^A-shrovin, a-shrovin, We be come a-shrovin ! Sometimes he gets a bit of bread and cheese, and at some houses he is told to be gone ; in which latter case, he calls up his followers to send their missiles in a rattling broadside against the door. It is rather remarkable that, in Prussia, and perhaps other parts of central Europe, the throwing of broken crockery at doors is a regular practice at marriages. Lord Malmesbury, who in 1791 married a princess of that country as proxy for the Duke of York, tells us, that the morning after the ceremonial, a great heap of such rubbish was found at her royal highiiess's door. OLD GEAMMAR-SCHOOL CUSTOMS. Mr R. W. Blencowe, in editing certain extracts from the journal of Walter Gale, schoolmaster at Mayticld, in the Sussex Archceological Collections, tells us that the salary of the Mayfield school- master was only £16 a-year, which was subsequently increased by the bequest of a house and garden, which let for £18 a-ycar. There were none of those perquisites so common in old grammar-schools, by which the scanty fortunes of the masters were in- creased, and the boys instructed in the hiunanities, as in the Middle School at Manchester, where the master provided the cocks, for which he was hberaUy paid, and which were to be Ijiiried up to their necks to be shied at by the boys on Shrove Tuesday, and at the feast of St Nicholas, as at Wyke, near Ashford. No Mr Graham had bequeathed a silver bell to May- field, as he had done to the school at Wreay in 16(31, to be fought for annually, when two of the boys, who had been chosen as captains, and who were followed by then- partisans, distinguished by blue and red ribbons, marched in procession to the \'illage-green, where each jiroduced his cocks ; and when the fight was won, the bell was suspended to the hat of the victor, to be transmitted fi-om one successful captain to another. There were no potation pence, when there were deep drinkings, sometimes for the benefit of the clerk of the parish, when it was called clerk's ale, and more often for the schoolmaster, and in the words of some old statutes, 'for the solace of the neighbourhood : ' potations which Agnes Mellers, avowess, the widow of a wealthy bellfounder of Nottragham, endeavoured, in some degree, to restrain when she founded the grammar-school in that town in 1513, by declaring that the schoolmaster and usher of her school shoidd not make use of any potations, cock-fightings, or drinkings, with his or then- ^vives, hostess, or hostesses, moy^e than twice a year. There were no ' delectations ' for the scholars, such as the baiTing out of the schoohnaster, which Sir John Deane, who founded the grammar-school at Wilton, near Northbeach, to prevent all quarrels between the teacher and the taught, determined shoidd take place only twice a year, a week before Christmas and Easter, ' as the custom was in other great schools. ' No imhappy ram was provided by the butcher, as used to be the case at Eton iu days long gone by, to be piu-sued and knocked on the head by the boys, tdl on one occasion, the poor animal, being sorely pressed, swam across the Thames, and, reeling into the market- place at Windsor, followed by its persecutors, did such mischief, that this sport was stopped, and instead thereof it was hamstrung, after the si)eech on Election Saturday, and clubbed to death. None of these hmnanising influences were at work at Mayfield : there was not even the customary charge of 5s. to each boy for rods. No such rides as those in force at the free grammar- school at Cuckfield jirevailed at ^Mayfield. They were not taught ' on every working day one of the eight pearls of reason, with the word according to the same, that is to say, Nomen with Amo, Pi-onomen with Amor, to be said by heart ; nor as being a modern and a thoroughly Protestant school, were they called upon before breakfast each Friday to hsten to a little j)iece of the Pater Noster, or Ave Maria, the Credo, or the verses oi the Mariners, or the Ten Commandments, or the Five Evils, or some other projjer saying in Latin meet for babies.' Still less, as in the case of the grammar-school at Stockport, did any founder will ' that some cunning priest, with all his scholars, should, on Wednesday and Friday of every week, come to the chiu'ch to the gi-ave where the bodies of his father and mother lay buried, and there say the psalm of De Profundis, after the Salis- bury use, and pray especially for his soid, and for the souls of his father and mother, and for all Christian soids. ' Neither did the trustees, that they might sow the seeds of ambition in the minds of the scholars, ordain, as was done at Tunbridge and at Lewisham, 'that the best scholars and the best Avriters shoidd wear some pretty garland on their heads, Avith sdver pens weU fastened thereunto, and thus walk to church and back again for at least a month.' A ceremony which in these days woidd infallibly secure for them aU sorts of scoffings, and probably a bi-oken head. * * The above mention of silver pens would seem to carry the use of metal pens back to a period long ante- cedent to the date generally attributed. 239 lEXT — ASH WEDNESDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LENT — ASH -WEDNESDAY. It is deomoil ai>piopriato to append hereunto a memorial of one of the ancient oranuuar-schoolcustoms, more honoured in the hreaeh than the observance, Init M-hieh nevorthek^ss still retahis a certain hold. It is the stool or altar of punishment -which was formerly in use at the Free School of Lichfield — the school at which Addison, Ashmole, Garrick, Johnson, and WoUaston received their education. When our artist A-isitcd this venerable temple of learning a few years ago, there was a head-master receiving a good salary, but no scholars. The flogging-horse, "liere delineated, stood in the lower room, covered with dust. FEBRUARY 10. St Soteri?, virgin-martyr, 4th century. St Scholastica, virgin, 543. St Erhdph, of Scotland, bishop, martyr at Verdun, 830. St William of Maleval, 1157. .It is an ancient custom of the Chi'istian cliurcli to liold as a period of fasting and solemnity the forty days preceding Easter, in commemoration of the miraculous abstinence of Jesus when imder tcmjitation. From lengten-tide, a Saxon term for spring (as being the time of the lengthen- ing of the day), came the familiar word for this period — Lent. Originally, the period began on what is now the first Sunday in Lent ; but, it being found that, when Sundays, as improper for fasting, were omitted, there remained only thirty- six days, the period was made hj Pope Gregory to commence four days earlier ; namely, on what has since been called Ash Wednesday. This name was derived from the notable ceremony of 240 the day in the Eomish church. It behig thought proper to remind the faithful, at commencement of the great penitential season, that tliey were but dust and ashes, the priests took a (piautityof ashes, blessed them, and sprinkled them with lioly water. The worshipper then approaching in sack- cloth, the priest took up some of the ashes on the end of his fingers, and made with them the mark of the cross on the Avorshipper's forehead, saying, ' 3£evzen(o, homo, quia cinis es, et in pulverem reverteris ' (llemember, man, that you are of ashes, and into dustAvill return). The ashes used were commonly made of the palms consecrated on the Palm Sunday of the previous year. In England, soon after the lleformation, the use of ashes was discontinued, as ' a vain show,' and Ash Wednesday thence became only a day of marked solemnity, witli a memorial of its original character in a reading of the curses denounced against impenitent sinners. The popular observances on Ash Wednesday are not of mucli account. The cocks being now dispatched, a thin scare-crow-like figure or puppet was set up, and shied at witli sticks, in imitation of one of the sports of the preceding day. The figure was called a Jach-a-lent, a term which is often met with, in old literature, as expressive of a small and insignificant person. Beaumont and Fletcher, in one of their plays, make a character say — 'If I forfeit. Make me a Jack o' Lent and break my shins For untagged points and counters.' Boys used to go about clacl-ing at doors, to get eggs or bits of bacon wherewith, to make up a feast among themselves ; and when refused, would stop the keyhole with dirt, and depart with a rhymed denunciation. In some parts of Ger- many, the young men gathered the girls into a cart, and drove them into a river or pool, and there ' washed them favouredly,' — a process which shews that abstinence from merriment was not there held as one of the proprieties of the day. ' Among the ancient customs of this country which have sunk into disuse, was a singularly absurd one, continued even to so late a period as the reign of George I. During the Lenten season, "an officer denominated the King's Code Grower crowed the hour each night, within the precincts of the Palace, instead of proclaiming it in the ordinary manner of watchmen.* On the first Ash Wednesday/ after the accession of the House of Hanover, as the Prince of Wales, after- wards George II., sat down to supper, this officer abruptly entered the apartment, and according to accustomed usage, proclaimed in a sound re- sembling the shrill pipe of a cock, that it was " past ten o'clock." Taken by surprise, and imperfectly acquainted with the English lan- guage, the astonished prince naturally mistook the tremulation of the assumed crow, as some mockery intended to insult him, and instantly rose to resent the afiront : nor was it without difficulty that the interpreter explained the nature of the custom, and satisfied him, that a * In Debrett's Impericd Calendar for the year 1822, in the list of persons holding appointments in tbe Lord Steward's department of the Royal Household, occurs the ' Cock and Cryer at Scotlaud-yard.' ISAAC vossirs. FEBEUAEY 10. HISTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. compliment was desigued, according to the court etiquette of tlie time. From that period we find no further account of the exertion of the imita- tive powers of this important officer ; but the court has been left to the voice of reason and conscience, to remind them of their errors, and not to that of the cock, whose clarion called back Peter to repentance, which this fantastical and silly ceremony was meant to typify.' — Brad;/. Born. — AVilliara Congreve, poet and dramatist (bap- tized), 1670, Bar dseij; Aaron Hil), poet, 1685, Strand; Dr Benjamin Hoadly, 1706, Broad-street, London; James Siiiitli, comic poet, 1775, London; Rev. Dr Henry H. Milman, historian, 1791, London. Died. — Sir 'William Dugdale, historian and antiquary, 1686, Shustoke ; Isaac Vossius, scholar, of Leyden, 1689, Windsor ; Thomas Chubb, Wiltshire divine, 1747, Salis- bury ; Montesquieu, French jurist, 1755, Paris; Dr James Kares, musical composer, 1783, Westminster; Samuel Prout, painter in water-colours, 1852. is.\Ac vossius: a strange canon. This eccentric Dutch scholar, a son of Gerard Vossius, a still more learned man, died on the 10th of February, 1688-9, in Windsor Castle, where Charles II. had assigned him apartments fifteen years previously, when he came to England from Holland, and the king made him a canon of Windsor. Never did a man undertake the cleri- cal office who was more unfit for it. Although a canon of Windsor, he did not believe in the divine origin of the Christian religion, and he treated religious matters with contempt, although in all other things he was exceedingly credulous. Charles, on one occasion, said, ' This learned divine is a strange man ; he will believe any- thing except the Bible.' When he attended divine service in the chapel at Windsor, it is said that he used to read Ovid's Ars Amandi instead of the prayer-book. He knew aU the European languages, without being able to speak one of them correctly. He was familiar with the manners and customs of the ancients, but pro- foundly ignorant of the world and the affairs of ordinai'y life. On his death-bed he refused the sacrament, and was only prevailed upon to take it by the remark of one of his colleagues, that if he would not do it for the love of God, he ought to do it for the honour of the chapter to which he belonged. Vossius took an odd delight in having his hair combed in a measured or rhythmical man- ner. He would have it done by barbers or other persons skilled in the rules of prosody. A Latin treatise on rhythm, published by him at Oxford in 1073, contains this curious passage : ' Many people take delight in the rubbing of their limbs, and the combing of their hair ; but these exercises would delight much more, if the servants at the baths, and of the barbers, were so skilful in this art, tliat they could express any measure with their fingers. I remember that more than once I have fallen into the hands of men of this sort, who could imitate any measure of songs in combing the hair ; so as sometimes to express very intelligibly iambics, trochees, dactyles, &c., from whence there arose to mc no small delight,' 16 RIOT AT OXFORD ON ST SCHOLASTICA's DAY. On the 10th of February 1351, in the reign of Edward III., a dire conflict took place between the students of the University of Oxford and the citizens. The contest continued three days. On the second evening, the townsmen called into their assistance the country people ; and thus re- inforced, completely overpowered the scholars, of whom numbers were killed and wounded. The citizens -^vere, consequently, debarred the rites and consolations of the church ; their privileges were greatly narrowed ; they were heavily fined ; and an annual penance for ever was enjoined that on each anniversary of St Scholastica, the mayor and sixty-two citizens attend at St Mary's Church, where the Litany should be read at the altar, and an oblation of one penny made by each man. HISTORY OF THE UMBRELLA. The designation of this useful contrivance (from umhra, shade) indicates the earliest of its twofold uses. Johnson describes it as ' a screen used in hot countries to keep off the sun, and in others to bear off the rain ; ' and Kersey, many years before (1708), had described it as ' a kind of broad fan or screen, commonly used by women to shelter them from rain; also, a wooden frame, covered with cloth, to keep off the sun from a window.' Phillips, in his Neio World of Words, edit. 1720, describes the umbrella as ' now commonly used by women to shelter them from rain.' As a shade from the sun, the umbrella is of great antiquity. We see it in the sculptures and paintings of Egypt, and Sir Gardner Willciuson has engraved a delineation of an Ethiopian prin- cess, travelling in her chariot through Upper Egypt to Thebes, wherein the car is furnished with a kind of imibrella fixed to a tall staff rising from the centre, and in its arrangement closely resembling the chaise umbrella of the present time. The recent discoveries at Nineveh shew that the umbrella (or parasol) 'was generally carried over the king in time of peace, and even in war. In shape,' says Layard, ' it resembled very closely those now in common use, but it is always seen open in the sculptures. It Avas edged with tassels, and was usually adorned at the top by a flower or some other ornament. On the later bas-reliefs, a long piece of linen or silk, falling from one side, like a curtain, appears to screen the king completely from the sun. The parasol was reserved exclusively for the monarch, and is never represented as borne over any other person. On several bas-reliefs from Persepolis, the king is represented under an umbrella, wliich a female slave holds over liis head.' From the very limited use of the parasol in Asia and Africa, it seems to Iiave passed, both as a distinction and a luxury, into Greece and Home. The Skiadcioii, or day-shado of the Greeks, was carried over the liead of the effigy of Bacchus ; and the daughters of the aliens at Athens were reqiiired to bear parasols over the heads of the maidens of the city at the great festival of the Panathenca. We see also tlie parasol figured in tlic hands of a princess oa the Hamilton vases in 241 HISTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. THE BOOK OF DAYS. niSTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. the Britisli Museum. At Eome, when Ihe veil could not be spread over the roof of the theatre, it was the custom for fenuiles and cfFcmmaie men to defend themselves from the sun with the umhi-ella or nmhraculum of the period ; and this covering appears to have been formed of slciu or leather, capable of bciug raised or lowered, as circumstances might require. Although the use of the umbrella was thus early introduced into Italy, and had probably been continued there as a vestige of ancient Eomnn manners, yet so late as 1008, Thomas Cory at notices the invention in such terms as to indicate that it was not commonly known in his own country. After dcscribiug the fans of the Italians, he adds : ' Many of them do carry other fine things, of a fiir greater price, that will cost at least a ducat (5s. (3d.), which they commonly call, in the Italian tongue, nmhrellacs ; that is, things that minister shadow unto them, for shel- ter against the scorching heat of the sun. These are made of leather, something answerable to the form of a little canopy, and hooped in the inside with divers little wooden hoopes, that extend the tiinhreUa into a pretty large compasse. They are used especially by horsemen, who carry them in their hands when they ride, fastening the end of the handle upon one of their thighs ; and they impart so long a shadow unto them, that it keep- eth the heate of the sun from the npj)er part of their bodies.' It is j)robable that a similar con- trivance existed, at the same period, in Spain and Portugal, whence it was taken to the New World. Defoe, it will be remembered, makes Kobinson Crusoe describe that he had seen um- brellas employed in the Brazils, and that he had constructed his own umbrella in imitation of them. ' I covered it with skins,' he adds, ' the hair outwards, so that it cast off the rain like a penthouse, and kept off the sun so effectually, that I could walk out in the hottest of the weather with greater advantage than I could before in the coolest.' In commemoration of this ingenious production, one species of the old heavy umbrellas was called ' The Kobinson.' The umbrella was used in England as a luxu- rious sun-shade early in the seventeenth cen- tury. Ben Jonson mentions it by name in a comedy produced in 1616 ; and it occurs in Beau- mont and Fletcher's Rule a Wife and Ilave a Wife, where Altea says : ' Are you at ease ? Now is your heart at rest ? Now you have got a shadow, au imibrella. To keep the scorching world's opinion From your fair credit.' In those days, as we may infer from a passage in Drayton, the umbrella was composed ex- teriorly of feathers, in imitation of the plumage of water-birds. Afterwards, oiled silk was the ordinary material. In the reign of Queen Anne, the umbrella appears to have been in common use in London as a screen from rain, but only for the weaker sex. Swift in the Tailer, October 17, 1710, says, in ' The City Shower :' ' The tuck'd up seamstress walks with hasty strides, "W hile streams run down her oiled umbrella's sides. ' Gay speaks of it in his Trivia; or, the Art of WalJcing the Streets of London : 212 ' Good housc\\'ives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise : Or underneath th' umbrella's oily shed, Safe tliroiigh the wet on clinking pattens tread. Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray ; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When Eastern monarchs shew their state abroad : Britain in winter only knows its aid, 'J'o guard from cliilly showers the walking maid.' This passage, which points to the iise of the umbrtnla exclusively by women, is confirmed by another passage in the Trivia, wherein the sur- tout is recommended for men to keep out ' the di'cnching shower : ' ' By various names, in various countries known. Yet lield in all the true sm-tout alone, Be thine of kersey firm, though small the cost ; Then brave unwet the rain, unchiU'd the frost.' At Woburn Abbey is a full-length portrait of the beautiful Duchess of Bedford, painted al)ouL 1730, representing the lady as attended by a black servant, who holds an open imibrella to shade her. Of about the same period is the sketch engraved on the next page, being the vignette to a song of Aaron Hill's, entitled T/v^ ••""'•,. 'f2~ ' nh-rvv-^ 'the gekeeotjs repulse.' Much of the clamour Avhich was raised against the general use of the umbrella originated with the chairmen and hackney-coachmen, who, of course, regarded rainy weather as a thing es- pecially designed for their advantage, and from which the public were entitled to no other pro- tection than what their vehicles could afford. In all the large towns of the empire, a memory is preserved of the courageous citizen who first carried an umbrella. In Edinbui'gh, it was a popular physician named Spens. In the Statis- tical Account of Glasgow, by Dr Cleland, it is related that, about the year 1781, or 1782, the late Mr John Jameson, surgeon, brought with him an umbrella, on his return from Paris, which was the first seen in the city, and attracted uni- versal attention. This umbrella was made of heavy wax-cloth, witli cane ribs, and Avas a Eonderous article. Cowper mentions the um- rella twice in his Taslc, published in 1784. The early specimens of the English umbrella made of oiled silk, were, when wet, exceed- ingly difficult to open or to close; the stick and furniture were heavy and inconvenient, and the article generally very expensive ; though an umbrella manufacturer in Cheapside, in 1787, advertised pocket and portable umbrellas supe- rior to any kind ever imported or manufactured in this kingdom ; and ' all kinds of common um- brellas prepared in a particular way, that will never stick together.' The substitution of silk and gingham for the oiled silk, however, remedied the above objection. The umbrella was originally formed and carried in a fashion the reverse of what now obtains. It had a ring at top, by which it was usually carried on the finger when furled (and by which also it could be hung up within doors), the wooden handle terminating in a rounded point to rest on the ground. The writer remem- bers umbrellas of this kind being in use among old ladies so lately as 1810. About thirty years ago, there was living in Taunton, a lady who recollected when there were but two umbrellas in 213 THE BOOK OF DAYS. that town : one belonged "to a clertjyman, who, on procoetUn<; to his duties on Sunday, hune; up the umbrella in the ehuroh poreh, Avlicre it attracted the gaze and admiration of the towns- people coming to chureli. ANECDOTE TRESEllVED BY DUGDAl.E, The laboriously industrious antiquarj'^, Sir William Dugdale, to whom we owe a large proportion of ^\■hat lias been preserved of the ecclesiastical antiquities of England, died at the ripe age of eighty-six. ilis son, Sir John J")ugdale, preserved from his conversation some brief anecdotes, and among the rest a merry tale regarding the Scotch covenanting minister, Patrick Gillespie. This esteemed leader having fallen into a grievous sin, the whole of his l>arty felt extremely scandalised, and ' nothing less woidd serve them than to hold a solemn convention, for seeking the Lord (as then" term Avas) to know of him wherefore he allowed this holy brother to fall under the power of Satan. That a speedy solution might be given them, each of them by turn vigorously wrestled with God, till (as they jiretended) he had solved then- question ; viz. : that this fall of their preacher was not for any faidt of his own, but for the sins of his parish laid upon him. Whereupon the convention gave judgment that the parish should be fined for ijublic satisfaction, as was accordingly done.' — Life of Dugdale, 4to, 1827, p. GO, nole. FEBRUARY 11. Saints Saturninus, Dativus, and other?, martyrs of Africa, 30-4. St Severinus, 507. St Theodora, empress, 867. (In the Anglo-Romish calendar) Cajdmou, about 680. C.EDMON. Cffidmon is the most ancient English poet whose name is known. He lived in Northurabria, near the monastery which was then called Streanes- lialeh, but which has since been known by the name of Whitby. The name of its abbess, Hilda, is known to every one acquainted with Northern legend and poetry. It was a fiivourite custom of the Anglo-Saxons to meet together at driuking-parties, and there, in the midst of their mirth, the harp was raovecl round, and each in his turn was expected to sing or chant some poem to the instrument— and these, as we may gather from the story, were often the composition of the singer, for the art of composing poetry seems to have been very ex- tensively cultivated among our Saxon forefatliers. Kow the education of C;cdmon, who was appa- rently the son of a small landholder, had been so much neglected that he had been unable either to compose, or to repeat or sing ; and when on these occasions he saw the harp approach him, he felt so overwhelmed with shame that he rose from his seat and went home. An important part of the wealth of an Anglo-Saxon landholder at this time— the events of which we are speaking occurred in the latter half of the seventh century —consisted in cattle, and it was the duty of the sons or retainers of the family to guard them at night ; for this could not be done by the agricul- tural serfs, as none but a freeman was allowed to bear arms. Now it happened on one of the oc- casions when Csedmon thus slunk from the fes- 24i tivc beer-party {r/eheorscipc) in disgrace, that it was his turn to guard the cattle, and proceeding from the hall to his post, he laid himself down there witli a feeling of vexation and despondency, and immediately fell asleep. In his slumber a stranger appeared to him, and, addressing him by his name, said, ' Ca?dmou, sing me something.' Ciedmon answered, ' I know nothing to sing, or I should not have left the hall to come here so soon.' 'Nay,' said the stranger, ' but thou hast something to sing ! ' ' What must I sing ? ' said Caidraon. ' Sing the Creation,' was the reply. Ca;dmon immediately began to sing verses ' which he had never heard before,' and which are given in Anglo-Saxon in some of the old manuscripts. When he awoke, he was not only able to repeat the lines which he had comjaosed in his dream, but he went on at wiU in the most excellent poetry. In the morning he presented himself before the reeve, or bailiff, of Whitby, and in- formed him of his miraculous gift of poetry, and the reeve took him to the abbess Hilda. Hilda and a number of high and pious ecclesiastics listened to his story, and witnessed his perform- ance, after which they read to him a short portion of the Scripture in Anglo-Saxon, and he went home, and on his return next morning he repeated it in Anglo-Saxon verse, excelling in beauty eveiything they had heard before. Such a heaven-born poet was a prize not to be thrown away, and Cfcdmon yielded to Hilda's earnest solicitations, and became a monk of her house — • for the early Anglo-Saxon nunneries contained monks and nuns in the same establishment. He was here employed by the pious abbess in trans- lating into Anglo-Saxon verse the whole of the sacred history. Bede gives an affecting account of Ca;cImon's death, which took place about the year 680. He was regarded as a saint by the Anglo-Saxon Church, and his death is placed in the Anglo-Komish Calendar on the 11th of Feb- ruary, but there is no known authority for fixing it on that day. Ca)dmon is, indeed, only known even by name through his story, as told by the historian Bede, who was almost his contemporary, or at least lived only a generation later, and it would have been perhaps no more thought of than other legends, but for a rather curious circumstance. The celebrated Archbishop Usher became pos- sessed of an early manuscript of Anglo-Saxon poetiy, which he afterwards gave to Junius, a distinguished Anglo-Saxon scholar, and it proved to be a paraphrase in Anglo-Saxon verse of some parts of the Scripture history, bearing so many points of resemblance to the works of Ca^dmon, as described by Bede, that Junius did not hesi- tate to print it under Ca?dmon's name (at Amster- dam, in 1655). One excellent edition, witli an English translation, has since been printed by Mr Benjamin Thorpe. The original MS. is now among Junius's manuscripts in the Bodleian library, at Oxford. The earlier part of this poetry, containing the history of the Creation and of the fall of man, is much more poetical than the rest, and may very probably be the same which, in Anglo-Saxon times, was ascribed to Ca;dmon, though it bears no name in the manuscript. The story of the temptation and I'KEMATURE DEATH OF DESCARTES. FEBEUARY 11. POLITICAL WINDOW-BREAKING. fall is told with great dramatic effect, and ia some circumstances bears sucli close resemblance to Milton's Paradise Lost, that it has been sup- posed that the latter poet must have been ac- quainted with the poetry of Cadmon, though the latter was printed by Junius in a very un- readable form, and without any ti-anslation. i?ora.— The Princess Elizabeth (of York), 1466; Mary Queen of Englantl, 1.516, Westminster ; Bernard de Bovier do Fontenelle, litterateur, 1657, Rozien. Died. — The Emperor Ileraclius, 641 ; Eb'zabeth Plan- tageuet, of York, 1502; Rin4 Descartes, French philoso- pher, 1650, StocMolm ; William Shenstone, poet, 1763, Hales Owen ; Macvey Napier, editor of the EncydopLKdia Britannica, 1847. PREMATURE DEATH OF DESCARTES. The death of this eminent philosopher was in- directly brought about by the means which he had taken to escape from the persecution of his enemies. After completing his travels, he de- termined to devote his attention exclusively to philosophical and mathematical inquiries, with the ambition of renovating the whole circle of the sciences. At the age of thirty-three lie sold a portion of his patrimony, and retired into Holland, where he remained eight years so completely aloof from the distractions of the world, that his very place of residence was unknown, though he pre- served an intercourse of letters with many friends in France. Meanwhile with the increase of his fame arose a spirit of controversy against his writings. Shrinking from the hostility of the church, he gladly accepted an invitation of Christina, Queen of Sweden, by whom he was treated with the greatest distinction, and was relieved from the observance of any of the humiliating usages so generally exacted by sove- reigns of those times from all whom they admitted into their presence. The queen, however, pro- bably from the love of differing from every one else, chose to pursue her studies with Descartes at five o'clock in the morning ; and as his health was peculiarly delicate, the rigour of the climate, and the unseasonable hour, brought on a pulmo- nary disease, of which he very soon died, being then only in the fifty-fourth year of his age. The queen wished to inter him with great honour in Sweden; but the French ambassador interposed, and hia remains were conveyed for sepulture amongst his countrymen in Paris. Thus fell one of the greatest men of his age, a victim to the absurd caprice of the royal patron who had afforded him shelter from the pei'secutions of the church. Probably, no man has given a greater impulse to mathematical and philosophical inquiry than Descartes. He was the first who successfully applied algebra to geometry ; he ])ointed out the important law of the sines ; in an age in which optical instruments were extremely imperfect, he discovered the changes to which light is subjected in the eye by the crystalline lens ; and he directed attention to the consequences resulting from the weight of the atmosphere. He was not only the greatest geometrician of the age, but by the clear- ness and admirable precision of his style, he became one of the founders of French prose. In his laborious experiments upon the animal frame, he recognised Harvey's researches on the circu- lation of the blood, and made it the basis of the physiological part of his work on Man. He is the author of what is emphatically called Modern Philosophy ; his name has revived in some measure of late years, chiefly owing, among our- selves, to Dugald Stewart, and in France to the disposition of the philosophers to cast away their idols of the eighteenth century. shenstone's quatrain. Shenstone has furnished an inn-window qua- train which is oftener heard from the lips of our generation than any of his dulcet pastoral verses : ' Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round. Where'er his stages may have been, Must sigh to think he still has found His warmest welcome at an inn. ' Dr Percy, who more than once visited ' the wailing poet of the Leason-es,' told Miss Hawkins that he always thought Shenstone and found him a man unhappy in his temper. In his taste for rural pleasures he was finical to a ludicrous degree of excess. In the purchase of a cow, he regarded nothing but the spots on her hide ; if they were beautiful, all other requisites were disregarded. His man-servant, whose office it was to shew his grounds, had made a grotto, which Shenstone approved. This was always made the test of the visitor's judgment : if he admired WUliam's grotto, his master thought him worth accompanying round the place, and, on a signal from the man, appeared ; but if it was passed with little notice, he kept out of the way. PERU QUI ERS PETITIOX. On the 11th of February, 1765, a petition was presented to King George III., by the master peruke-makers of the metropolis, setting forth the distresses of themselves and an incredible number of others dependent on them, from the almost universal decline of their trade, in conse- quence of gentlemen so generally beginning to wear their own hair. What business remained to their profession Avas, they said, nearly alto- gether taken from them by French artists. Thej'" had a further ground, of complaint in their being obliged to work on Sunday, which they would much rather have spent in their religious duties, ' learning to fear God and honour the king [a bit of flattery].' Under these circumstances, the distressed peruke-makers prayed his majesty for means of relief. The king — though he must have scarcely been able to maintain his gravity — re- turned a gracious answer. But the public, albeit but little converted from the old views regarding the need of protection to industry, had the sense to see the ludicrous side of the petition, and some one quickly regaled them by publisJiing a petition from the Jiodij Carpenters, imploring his majesty to wear a wooden leg, and to enjoin all his servants to appear in the royal presence with the same graceful decoration.* POLITICAL -WINDOW-BREAKING. The foolish excesses in which the politicians of the last century occasionally indulged, were * GentUman's Magazine, 1765, p. 95. 245 rOLITICAL AVIXDOW-BKEAKING. THE BOOK OF DAYS. A COWED AMBASSADOE. straugoly exempliliotl npon tlic acquittal of AilmirarKoppol, February 11. 1779, after a trial of thirty days, on eharges of miscouduct aud iiica- paeity exliiiuted against kiiu by Sir Hugh Palli- scr. lu the evening, a courier brought to Loudon tho news of Keppel's acquittal, couched in the most honourable terms for him, and most ignomi- nious to his antagonist. Public feeling was much excited in favour of Keppel. Palliscr himself was fain to make his escape out of Portsmouth (where the trial took place), at five iu the morning, iu a hired post-chaise, to avoid insults aud outrage from the mob, and sheltered himself in the Admiralty. The news spread rapidly through Loudon, and by eleven at niglit most houses were illuminated, both in London and "Westminster. Guns were discharged by the servants of some of the great lords in the 0])po- sition, and squibs and crackers thrown plenti- fully by tho populace. The ministers, and some of the Scots, were sullen, and would not exhibit lights ; yet the mob was far more temperate than usual, the Opposition having taken no pains to inilame them", nor even to furnish them with any cri de guerre. Late at night, as the people grew druuk, an empty house in Pall Mall, recently inhabited by Sir Hugh Palliser, and still supposed to belong to him, was attacked ; the windov^'s were broken, and at last, though some guards had been sent for, the mob forced their way into it, and demolished whatever remained. The win- dows of Lord Mulgrave and Captain Hood were likewise broken, aud some others accidentally that were not illuminated. It happened at three in the morning that Charles Fox, Lord Derby, and his brotlier. Major Stanley, and two or tliree other young men of quality, having been drinlc- ing at Almack's till that late hour, suddenly thought of making the tour of the streets, and were joined by the Duke of Ancaster, who was very drunk, aud, what shewed that it was no premeditated scheme, the latter was a courtier, and had actually been breaking windows. Find- ing the mob before Palliser's house, some of the young lords said, ' Why don't you break Lord George Germaine's windows ? ' The ])opulace had been so little tutored, that they asked who he was, and receiving some further encourage- ment, they quickly proceeded to break Lord George's windows. The mischief pleasing the juvenile leaders, they marched to the Admiralty, forced the gates, and demolished Palliser's and Lord Lilburne's windows. Lord Sandwich, ex- ceedingly terrified, escaped through the garden with his mistress, Miss Eeay, to the Horse Guards, and there betrayed a most manifest panic. The rioters then proceeded to Lord jN'orth's, who got out on to the top of his house ; but the alarm being now given, the Guards arrived, and prevented any further mischief. — IValpole's Last Journals, vol. ii., pp. 342 — Sii. SUSSEX SMUGGLERS, The coast of Sussex appears to have been greatly frequented by smugglers in the middle of the last century, and their affrays A\ith Custom-house officers were at that time very desperate. In the year 1749, there was sent to Chichester a special commission, Avith Sir Michael Forster as president, to try seven smugglers for the murder of two Custom-house officers ; an act 246 perpetrated under circumstances of atrocity too liorrible to be related. They were convicted, aud, with tlie exception of one who died the night before the execution, they were all executed and hanged in chains, in dillei-ent parts of Sussex. Tho state of public feeling regarding these cidprits made it neces- sary that a conqjany of foot-guards and a troop of horse should attend to prevent all chances of rescue. Seveia more were tried and convicted at the foUowiiig assizes at East Grinstead, for highway robbery and for tho barbarous mm-der of a poor fellow named Hawkins, who was suspected of giving information against them, and who was literally flogged to death. Six of them were executed. Most of them belonged to a celebrated set called the Hawkhurst gang, who Avere the terror of the counties of Kent and Sussex. Three more were tried at the Old Bailey, also with sixty others, who had broken open the Custom-house at Poole, and taken away a quantity of tobacco, which had been seized aud deposited there. They Avere executed at Tybinn. A place called Whitesmith v/as celebrated as a nest of smugglers long after this time ; and about 1817, one of the outstanding debts in the overseers' books was due to a well-knoAvn smuggler of Whitesmith, for ' tAvo gaUous of gin to be drunk in the A'cstry. ' There were places of deposit for the smuggled goods, most ingeniously contrived, in various parts of Sussex. Among others, it is said, was the manorial jioud at Fidmer, under which there was dug a cavern, Avliich could hold 100 tubs of spirits : it Avas covered with planks, carefidly strewed over with mould, and this remained undiscovered for many years. In the clim-chyard at Patcham is an inscription on a monument, noAV nearly illegible, to this effect : ' Sacred to the memory of Daniel Scales, Avho Avas unfortunately shot, on Tuesday evening, Nov. 7, 1790. 'Alas ! SAvift Hcav the fatal lead, Winch pierced through the young man's head. He instant fell, resigned his breath, And closed his languid eyes in death. And you Avho to this stone draw near, Oh ! pray let fall the pitying tear. From this sad instance may we all Prepare to meet JehoA'ah's call.' The real story of his death is this : Daniel Scales Avas a desperate smuggler, and one night he, Avith many more, was coming from Brighton, heavily laden, Avhen the Excise officers and soldiers fell in Avith them. The smugglers fled in all directions ; a riding officer, as such pex'sous were called, met this man, and called upon him to surrender his booty, Avhicli he refused to do. The officer kncAV that ' he Avas too good a man for him, for they had tried it out before ; so he shot Daniel through the head.' A COWED AMBASSADOR. In a graA'e Avork by Archbishop Parker, entitled The Defence of Priestes Marriages, 4to, there occura unexpectedly an amusing anecdote. * ' It chanced that there came a French ambassador to the king's highness, King Henry the Eighth, AAdth letters, I trow, from the French king, not long before that sent to him from the holy father of Rome. This ambassador, sitting at the council-table, began to set up a stout countenance with a weak bi'ain, and carried Eugli.vh exceedingly fast ; Avhich he thought should have been his only sufficient commendation of them all that Avere at the table, that he could speak so readily. * In the present extract a modern orthograpliy is assumed. A COWED AMBASSADOR. FEBEUAEY 12. SIR NICHOLAS THROCKMOETON. The matter of his talk was universal ; but the sub- stance was much noting the gluttony of Englishmen, which devoiu-ed so much victual in the land ; partly magnifying the great utility of the French tongue, which he noted to be almost throughout the world frequented. And in his conference he marvelled of divers noblemen that were present, for that they could not keep him talk, or yet so much as understand him to perceive his great wit. ' Among the number of the lords, there sat the old honourable Captain, the Lord Earl of Shrewsbury, looking at his meat, and gave neither ear nor coun- tenance to this folk man, but gave others leave to talk, and sat as he might, shaking his head and hands in his palsy, which was testimony enough whether he were not in his days a warrior lying abroad in the field, to take air of the ground. This French ambassador was oflended with him, and said, "What an honour it were for yonder nobleman, if he coidd speak the French tongue ! Surely it is a great lack to his nobility." One of the lords that kc})t him talk, asking leave of this mounsire to report part of the communication to the Lord Shrewsbmy, made ref)ort thereof, yet in his most courteous manner, with [as] easy and favourable rehearsal as might touch a truth. ' AVhen he heard it, where before his head, by the great age, was almost grovelling on the table, he roused himself up in such wise, that he appeared in length of body as much as he was thought ever in all his life before. And, knitting his brows, he laid his hand on his dagger, and set his countenance in such sort, that the French hardie ambassador turned colour wonderfully. " Saith the French [fellow] so?" saith he ; " marry, tell the French dog again, by sweet St Cutlibert, If J knew that I had l^ut one pestilent French word in all my body, I would take my dagger and dig it out, before I rose from the table. And tell that tawny [varlet] again, howsoever he hath been hunger-starved himself at home in France, that if we should not eat our beasts, and make victual of them as fast as we do, they woidd so increase beyond mea- sure, that they woidd make victual of us, and eat us lip !" ' When these words were reported again to the French guest, he spoiled no more victual at the dinner after that, but drank wondrous oft .... his eyes were never off him [the Earl of Shrewsbury] all that dinner while after.' FEBRUARY 12. St Eulalia, virgin of Barcelona, martyr, about 305. St Meletius, patriarch of Antiocli, 381. St Benedict, of Anian, abbot, 821. St Anthony Cauleas, patriarch of Constantinople, 896. Born. — Gabriel Naude, Ullcrateur, 1600, Paris ; Bishop (John) Pearson, 1613, Snoring; Dr Cotton Mather (writer on Witchcraft), 1GG3, Boston, N. A.; Elias de Crubillon, Frencli romanci;=t, 1707, Paris; Edward Forljcs, naturalist, 1815, iJovglas, Jsle of Man. Died. — Bishop David ap Owen, 1512 ; Lady Jane Grey, beheaded, 1555, Tower; Sir Nicholas Throck- morton, chief butler of England, temj). Elizabeth, 1571 ; (icorge Ileriot, founder of ' Ilcriot's Hospital,' 1024; Gabriel Brotier, editor of Tacitus, 1789, Paris ; Lnzaro Spdlanzani, naturalist, 1799, Paris; Immanuel Knnt, philosopher, 1804; Sir Astley Cooper, surgeon, 1841. ,S1R NICHOLAS TirilOCKMOKTON. Sir Nicholas Tlirockmorton, the head of the ancient Warwickshire family, after which our well-known London street is named, filled several offices of state, but led a ti'oubled life. lie was sewer to Henry VIII., iu which capacity it was his duty to attend the ' marshal!' d feast, Serv'd up in hall with sewer and seneschal.' He also headed a troop iu the armament against France which Henry VIII. commanded iu person. After the king's death, he attached himself to the Queen-dowager Katheriue Parr, and to the Princess Elizabeth. He next distinguished him- self iu Scotland, under the Protector Somerset, by whom he was sent to Loudon with the news of the victory of Pinkie. Afterwards created a knight, aud appointed to a place iu the PriA'y Chamber, he was admitted to great intimacy by Edward VI. Having witnessed the death of the boy Icing at Grreeuwich, iu 1553, he came immediately to London, and dispatched Mary's goldsmith to announce to her the king's demise. On the 2nd of February 1554, Sir Nicholas was arrested aud committed to the Tower, ou the weU-fouuded charge of being concerned in the rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyatt. He was tried at Gruildhall, aud his case was thought to be hopeless ; but having uudertaken to conduct his own defence, he did it with such adroitness, promptness of reply, aud coolness of argument, intermixed with retorts, spirited, fearless, aud reiterated, iu answer to the partial remarks of the Iiord Chief Justice, aud followed up by an im- passioned appeal to the jury, that, iu defiance of the threats of the Chief Justice aud the Attorney- General, — in defiance too of the proverb on the subject, — he obtained a verdict of acquittal. He was directed to be discharged, but was remanded, aud kept in prison till January 18, 1555. Nearly all the jury were fined aud imprisoued for their iudependent verdict. Sir Nicholas afterwards served in Queen Mary's army, under the Earl of Pembroke ; but he devoted himself chiefly to the Princess Eliza- beth, whom he privately visited at Hatfield. When Queen Mary died, he was admitted to see her corpse, and, as Elizabeth had requested, took from her finger the wedding-ring which had been given to her by Philip, aud delivered it to Eliza- betli. By this Protestant queen he was appointed to high offices, aud sent ou a special embassy to Edinburgh to remonstrate with Mary Queen of Scots, against her intended marriage with Darnley. ' When Mary was imprisoued at Loch- leven, Throckmorton was commissioned by Eliza- beth to negotiate with the rebel lords for her release. A few years later we find Throckmorton sent to the Tower on a well-founded charge of in- triguing for a marriage Ijctween the Scottish queen and the Duke of Norfolk. He was not kept long iu confinement, but never regained the confidence of Elizabeth ; and his distress _ of mind is thought to have hastened liis death, which took place, i'ebruary 12, 1571, at the house of the Earl of Leicester, — not, it is also said, without suspicion of poison. There is a monument to his incmor}^ a recumbent figure in the church of St Catherine Crce, in Leadcnhall-strcet. 24,7 ASSASSINATION OF MR TnYNNE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ASSASSINATION OF ME THYNNE. Sir Fraucis Walsinghiim, m a loiter to the Earl of Leicester, on Tlu\H-kmortoii's death, says of liim, that ' for eounsol in peace and for conduct in war. lie hatli not left of like sviflieicncj', that I Icuovr.' Camden says, he was ' a man of largo experience, piercing judgment, and singular pru- dence ; but he died very luckily for himself and his famil}', his life and estate being in great danger by reason of his turbulent spirit.' He was the court favourite of three sovereigns, but fell by his love of intrigue. The late Sir Ileury Ilalforduscd to relate that he had seen a prescription in which a j^ortioii of iJie human skull was ordered, in powder, for Sir jN'icholas Throckmorton. It was dug out of the ruins of a house in Duke-street, Westminster, which had belonged to Oliver Cromwell's apothe- cary. ASSASSINATION OF MR THYNNE IN PALL MALL. As the visitor to "Westminster Abbey passes through the south aisle of the choir, he can scarcely fail to notice sculptured upon one of the most prominent monuments a frightful scene of assassination, which was perpetrated in one of scuLPTiniE ON thynne's monument in WESTMINSTER ABBEY. the most public streets of the metropolis, late in the reign of Charles the Second. The victim of this atrocity was Thomas Thyune, Esq., who had a short time before succeeded in carrying off the youthful^ widow of Lord Ogle. The handsome Count Koningsmark, avIio had been rejected by the lady, was tempted by disappointed passion to plot, if not to perpetrate, this barbarous revenge upon his rival. Thomas Thynne, of Longleat, in Wiltshire, was descended from an ancient family, and from his large income was called ' Tom of Ten Thou- sand.' He had been a friend of the Duke of York, afterwards Jaines II. ; but having quar- relled with his royal highness, Thynne had latterly attached himself with great zeal to the Whig or Opposition party, and had become an intimate associate of their head, the Duke of Monmouth. At Longleat, where he lived in a stj-le of magnificence, Thynne was often visited by Monmouth ; and he is the Issachar of Dry- den's glowing description of the Duke's pro- gresses, in the Absalom and Acliitonliel : 248 ^ ' From cast to west his glories lie displays, And, like the sun, the Promised Land surveys. Fame runs before him, as the morning star, And sliouts of joy salute liim from afar ; Each house receives him as a guardian god, And consecrates the place of his abode. But hospitable treats did most commend Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend.' It was on the night of Sunday, the 12th of February l()81-2, that the west end of London was startled by the news that Thynne had been shot while passing in his coach along Pall Mall. King Charles, sitting at Whitehall, might almost have heard the report of the assassin's musketoon ; and so might Dryden, sitting in his favourite front room, on the ground-floor of his house on the south side of Gerrard-street, also hardly more than a couple of furlongs distant. The murderers escaped. Thynne survived his mortal wound only a few hours, during which the Duke of Monmouth sat by the bedside of his dying friend. An active search, conducted by Sir John Eeresby and the Duke of Monmouth, resulted in the speedy apprehension of the three inferior instruments in tliis murder, including one Boroski, a Pole, who had fired the fatal shot. The instigator of the murder. Count Koniugs- mark, was apprehended a week after the com- mission of the murder. A few days later, the four men were brought to the bar at the Old Bailey, to be arraigned and tried — Boroski, Vratz, and Stern, as principals in the murder, and Count Koningsmark as accessory before the fact. At the trial, the evidence, and indeed their own confession, clearly proved the fact of Boroski shooting Thynne, and Vratz and Stern being present assisting him. With respect to Koningsmark, besides the testimony of his accomplices, the other evidence shewed him living concealed in a humble lodging, and hold- ing communication with the murderers, before and almost at the time of the fact. He had also fled immediately after the offence was committed. To this it was answered by Koningsmark, that the men accused were his followers and servants, and that of necessity he frequently communicated with them, but never about this murder ; that when he arrived in London, he was seized with a distemper, which obliged him to live privately till he was cured ; and finally, that he never saw, or had any quarrel with, Mr Thynne. This defence, though morally a weak one, was strengthened by the absence of any legal proof to connect the Count with the assassination, and by the favourable summing-up of Chief Justice Pemberton, who seemed determined to save him. The three principals were found guilty, and Koningsmarlf was acquitted. Eeresby, in his Memoirs, tells us how a Mr Foubert, who kept an academy in London, where he had for a pupil a younger Count Koningsmark — apparently brother to the murderer — came and offered him a large bribe to interfere in the course of justice ; which bribe he instantly re- jected, because he did not believe that any one was the better for money acquired in such a way. The convicted prisoners were hanged at the SIR ASTLEY PASTON COOPER. FEBRUAEY 12. SIR ASTLET PASTON COOPER. place of tlie murder, iu Pall Mall, on tlie 10th of March following ; and Boroski \vas afterwards suspended in chains, a little beyond Mile-end Town. Evelyn records in his Diary, under the 10th ]\Iarch : ' This day was executed Colonel Vratz and some of his accomplices, for the execrable murder of Mr Thyune, set on by the principal Koningsmark ; he went to execution like an undaunted hero, as one that had done a friendly office for that base coward, — Count Koningsmark, who had hopes to marry his [Mr Thynne's] widow, the rich Lady Ogle, and was acquitted by a corrupt jury, and so got away. Vratz told a friend of mine, who accompanied him to the. gallows, and gave him some advice, that he did not value dying a rush, and hoped and believed God would deal with him like a gentleman.' Count Koningsmark, after he had paid his fees, and got out of the hands of the olHcers of jus- tice at the Old Bailey, made a quick retreat from England. According to the Amsterdam His- torical Dictionary, he went to Germany to visit his estates, in 1G83 ; was wounded at the siege of Cambray, which happened that same year ; he afterwards went with his regiment to Spain, where he distinguished himself on several occa- sions ; and finally', in 1686, he accompanied his uncle. Otto William, to the Morea, where he was present at the battle of Argas, and so overheated himself, that he was seized with a pleurisy, which carried him off. Such, at tlie early age of twenty-seven, was the end of Koningsmark, within little more than four years after the tragedy of his supposed victim Thynne, and his own narrow escape from the gibbet, to which he had been the cause of consigning his three asso- ciates or instruments. SIR ASTLEY PASTON COOPER, BART., SERJEANT- SURGEON TO THE QUEEN. This eminent practitioner and excellent man was the fourth son of the rector of Great Yar- mouth, in Norfolk ; and was born at Brooke, iu that county, August 23, 1768. His mother sprung from the ancient family of the Pastons, and was the authoress of a novel, entitled The Exemplary Mother. He was chiefly educated by his father, a sound scholar. An accidental cir- cumstance is said to have influenced his future career : when a boy, he saw a lad fall from a cart, and tear his thigh in such a manner as to wound the femoral artery. Youug Cooper immediately took his handkerchief, and applied it round the thigh so tightly, as to control the bleeding until further assistance could be procured. At the age of fifteen, he was placed with a sui'geon and apothecary at Yarmouth ; he next came to Lon- don, and was apprenticed to his uncle, one of the surgeons of Guy's Hospital; but, in a few mouths, was transferred, by his own desire, to Mr Cline, the eminent surgeon of St Thomas's Hospital. Hei'e his zeal and application were incessant ; and he laid the foundation of his fame and fortune by giving a course of lectures on the principles and practice of surgery, which had previously ojdy formed part of the anatomical course. His class of students rose to 400, by far the largest number ever known in London. He made no attempt at oratory, but was plain and practical in his details, and very successful in his illustrations ; while he carefully avoided the introduction of controversial subjects connected with physiological science. In 1792, he visited Paris, and made himself master of the theory and practice of French surgery. In the same year, he commenced practice in London : when at its zenith, his annual receipt of fees far ex- ceeded that of any other member of the profes- sion : in one year he received £21,000 ; and for many years after, his annual receipt was £15,000 and upwards. His success in practice, it is sup- posed, consisted chiefly in his knowing how and when to operate ; yet, on an important occasion, his courage had nearly forsaken him. In 1821, George the Fourth having a small tumour iu the scalp, an operation for its removal was resolved upon, and Cooper was selected to per- form it. On the day appointed, he waited upon his majesty. Lord Liverpool and other cabinet ministers occupied a room adjoining that in which the king was. A short time before the operation was commenced. Cooper was observed to be pale and nervous, when Lord Liverpool, taking hold of his hand, said, ' You ought to recollect that this operation either makes or ruins you. Courage, Cooper ! ' — and he was so impressed with this timely rebuke that every appearance of anxiety vanished from his counte- nance, and he performed the operation with his wonted coolness and dexterity. In the course of a few months after this, he received from the king a baronetcy, with remainder, in default of male issue, to his nephew Astley Paston Cooper, who in due time succeeded to the title. Sir Astley Cooper had long retired from prac- tice, when he died, February 12, 1811, in his seventy-third year, bequeathing a large fortune. His extensive practice had small beginnings : in the first year, his income was but £5 5s. ; the second, £26 ; the third, £61 ; the fourth, £96 ; the fifth, £100; the sixth, £200; the seventh, £400 ; the eighth, £610. He received some very large fees, among which was that of a thousand guineas thrown at him in his nightcap by a patient whom he had cut for the stone ; an anec- dote which he told with no small degree of ani- mation, on retiring from a patient upon whom he had just performed the same operation, and who had likewise, in his agony, flung his cap at the surgeon, but without the cheque which gave so much force to the original incident. Probably, no surgeon of ancient or modern times enjoyed a greater share of reputation during his life tJian fell to the lot of Sir Astley. The old and new world alike rung with his fame. On one occa- sion, his signature was received as a passport among the moimtains of Biscay by the wild followers of Don Carlos. A young English surgeon, seeking for employment, was carried as a prisoner before Zumalacarregui, who de- manded what testimonials he had of his calling or his qualifications. Our countryman presented his diploma of the College of Surgeons ; and the name of Astley Cooper, which was attached to it, no sooner struck the eye of the Carlist leader, than he at once received his prisoner 249 THE DINTON HEEMIT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE EEVOIiTJTIOtf OF 1688- ■with fricndsliip, and appointed liim as a surgeon in his army. Sir Astliej' Cooper, by his unwearied assiduity in the dissecting-room, produced some of the most important contributions to modern surgerj', -vrhich he publislied without regard to prolit. His influence on the surgery of the day was great : ' Ho gave operations a scientific cliaracter, and divested them in a great degree of their terrors, by performing them unostenta- tiously, simply, conlideutlj', and cheerfully, and thereby inspiring the patient with hope of relief, where previously resignation under misfortune had too often been all that could be expected from the sufferer.' — Sir Jb/ni Forbes. THE DINTON HERMIT. A letter of Hearne, the antiquary, dated February 12, 1712-13,* gives an account of an extraordinary object preserved in the Ashmolean Museum under the name of the Huchinghamshire Shoe. The corresponding shoe for the other foot is preserved at Dinton Hall, near Aylesbury. Eacli of these shoes is not merely composed of patches, like a beggar's cloak, but it presents a load of such patches, layer above laj^er, to the amount, it is believed, of many hundreds of individual pieces. The shoes were made and worn by an eccentric man named John Bigg, not without parts or education, who was for some time clerk to the regicide Judge Mayne ; but, after the ruin of his master's cause at the Ees- toration, grew morbid, retired from the world, and lived like a hermit in a hut or cave, near his former master's house of Dinton, only adjourning in summer to the woods near Kimble. Bigg was little over thirty at the time of his retirement, and he lived to 169G, when he must have been sixty-seven. A portrait engraved in Lipscomb's Buckinghamshire^ presents us a handsome, com- posed-looking man, dressed in clothes and shoes all alike composed of small patches, the head being covered by a sort of stiff hood, terminating in two divergent peaks, and composed in like manner with the rest of the dress, while two (leather ?) bottles hang at the girdle, and a third is carried in the left hand. Bigg lived upon charity, biit never asked anything excepting leather ; and when he got any of that article, his amusement was to patch it upon his already overladen shoes. People, knowing his tastes, brought him food, likewise ale and milk. The last article he carried in one of his bottles ; in the other two he carried strong and small ale. The man was perfectly inoffensive, and conduct so extraordinary is only to be accounted for in his case by supposing a slight aberration of the intellect, the consequence pei'haps of disap- l)ointed hopes. COMPLETION OF THE REVOLUTION OF IGSS. The 12th of February is the memorable anni- versary of the perfecting of the Eevolution of 1688. James II. having, with his family, with- drawn in terror to France, a convention called by the Prince of Orange met on the 22nd of * Reliquiaj Hearniaiise, i. 281. t The portrait of Bigg is also engraved in Kirby's Wonderful Museum, vol. v. 250 January 1GS8-9, and proceeded under his pro- tection to deliberate on the settlement of the kingdom. To find that James had abdicated was an easy matter ; how to dispose of the vacant throne was not so easy. There was a large party for a regency ; others wei'e disposed to accept the Princess of Orange, the eldest daughter of the ex-king, as their sovereign. It was not till after much debating, and a threat of the Prince to go back to Holland and leave them to settle their own affairs, that the convention at length, on the 12th of February, adopted the resolution, ' That William and Mary, Prince and Princess of Orange, be declared King and Queen of Englaiul, France, and Ireland, and the dominions there- unto belonging.' The crown was next day for- mally offered to them in the Banqueting Boom, at Whitehall, and accepted ; and the Ilevolutiou was complete. Mary had arrived in London so recently as the 11th, by which time it was tolerably certain that she and her husband were to bo nominated to a joint sovereignty. However glad she might naturally be at her husband's successful expedi- tion, however excited by the prospect of being a regnant queen of England, the crisis was one calculated to awaken sober feelings. She was displacing a father ; her husband was extruding an imcle. ' It was believed,' says the contein- porary Evelyn, ' that both, especially the Prin- cess, would have shewed some seeming reluctance of assuming her father's crown, and made some apology, testifying by her regret that he should by his mismanagement necessitate the nation to so extraordinary a proceeding ; which would have shewn very handsomely to the world. . . . Nothing of all this appeared. She came into Whitehall, laughing and jolly, as to a wedding, so as to seem quite transported. She rose early the next morning, and in her undress, as was reported, before her women were up, went about from room to room to see the convenience of AVhitehall ; lay in the same bed where the late queen lay ; and, within a night or two, sat down to play at basset, as the queen her predecessor used "to do. She smiled iipon and talked to everybody. . . . This carriage was censured by many.' It outraged even Dr Burnet, the new queen's chaplain. It now appears that Mary acted under orders from her husband, who wished to give a check to those who desired to see his wife made sole monarch and deemed her ill-used, because he was associated with her. Lord Macaulay even makes it out to be a fine case of self-devotion on the part of the queen. To betray levity regarding an unfortunate father in order to please a trium- phant husband, was a strange piece of self-devo- tion. For a husband to ask his wife to do so was not very wise, as fully appeared from the disgust which it excited. There cannot truly be said to have been either taste, judgment, or good feeling, on either side in the case. As the one drawback to the felicity of this great event was a consideration of the relationship of the new sovereigns to the old, it would have been much better policy for them to make a feeling ^for King James prominent in their conduct, ctcu though it bore no place in their hearts. THE EE3URRECTI0NISTS. FEBEUAEY 12. THE EESUBEECTIONISTS. THE RESURRECTIOiSriSTS, The name of Sir Astloy Cooper recals a trallic ill the recent existence of wliich amongst us yoimg men of our time miglit hesitate to believe. _ It is indeed a startling chapter in the history of civiliza- tion which is supplied l>y the methods formerly re- sorted to by anatomical teachers, for the purpose of obtaining subjects for dissection. From the year 1800 until the alteration of the law in 1832, the Resurrectionists, or 'Body-snatchers,' were almost the only sources of this supply : they were persons generally of the worst character, if we except the watchmen of that time, who were set to guard the burial-grounds, all of whom received a regular per- centage on the sum obtained by the EesuiTectionists. The public were for many years aware of church- yards being robbed; it was kno-ma to be effected with wonderful rapidity and dexterity ; but the modus was never fathomed by the public, and, curiously enough, no accidental circumstance occuiTed to furnish the explanation ; even the members of the medical profession, with very few exceptions, were kept in ignorance of it, so careful were the Resurrec- tionists to remove all traces of their mode of working after the completion of their task. It was generally supposed that the body-suatcher, in exhumiug a body, lirst proceeded, as a uo\'ice would have done, to remove all the earth with which the grave had been recently filled ; and having at length arrived at the coffin, that he then, \\'ith i^roper implements, forced off the lid, and so removed the body. This would have occupied considerable time, and rendered the body-snatchers jiroportionately more liable to detection. To avoid this, they only cleared away the eai-th above the head of the coffin, taking care to leave that which covered the other end as far as possible irndisturbed. As soon as about one-third of the coffin was thus exposed, they forced a very strong crowbar, made of a pecidiar form for the purpose, between the end of the coffin and the lid, which latter, by using the lever as one of the first order, they generally pressed up, without much difficidty. It usually hap- pened, at this stage of the proceedings, that the superincimibent weight of the earth on the other por- tion of the coffin-lid caused it to be snapped across at a distance of about one-third of its length from the end. As soon as this had been effected, the IjoJy was drawn out, the death-gear removed from it, and replaced in the coffin, and finally the body \\-as tied up and placed in its receptacle, to be con- veyed to its destination. By this means, in the case of a shallow grave of loose earth, free from stones, the Ilesurrectionist would remove a body in a quar- ter of an hour. Silence was essential for the safety of the Resurrectionists ; and in gravelly soils they had a peculiar mode of flinging out the earth, in order to prevent the rattling of the stones against the iron spade. As soon as the body was raised, it was generally placed in a sack, and then carried to a hackney- coach or spring-cart, usually the latter. When bodies were sent from the country to the metro- polis, they were generally packed in hat-crates, or in the casks in which hardwares are sent. Some- times the subject, instead of being deposited in a sack, was laid on a large sfjuare green baize cloth, the four corners of which were tied together, so as to inclose tiie body. It was not directly conveyed to any dis- secting-room, but was generally deposited in some half-built house, or other convenient building, until tlie following day. The body-snatcher would then, dressed as a porter, swing the load over his shoulders, ami often, even iu broad daylight, carry it to its place of destination through the most crowded streets of the metropolis. At other times, the students would receive the bodies at their own houses, and convey them in a hackney-coach to the dissecting-rooms, the coachman being well paid for his job. Sometimes the di-iver was exorbitant in his demands, and ^\•as somewhat ingenious in enforcing them : a pupd who was conveying a body by coach to his hospital was astonished by finding himself in front of the Bow- street police-ofiice, when the coachman, tapjnng at the front window, said to the affrighted youth, ' Sir, my fare to so-and-so is a giunea, unless you wish to be put down here.' The rejily, without any hesita- tion, was, ' Quite right, my man ; drive on.' At the commencement of a new session at the hos- pitals, the leading Hesiu'rcctiouists might be seen looking out for lecturers ; and ' fifty pounds down, and nine guineas a body,' was often acceded to ; the former being the opening fee from each school pro- mised an exclusive supply. The competition for sub- jects, which the exhumators pi'etended to get up between the different schools, sometimes raised the prices so exorbitantly as to leave scarcely any remu- neration for the lectiu-ers. In some cases twenty pounds have been given for a single subject, iu healthy seasons. The competition occasionally led to revolting scenes of riot. Mr Bransby Cooper, iu his Life of Sir Astley Cooper, relates that two Resm-rectionists, ha^dng gained access to a private burial-ground near Holywell Mount by bribing the gravedigger, some- times brought away six bodies iu one night. Two other exhumators, hearing of this prosperity, threat- ened to expose the gravedigger if he did not admit them to share his plimder ; but he was beforehand with them, and pointed them out to a public-house full of labourei's, as body-snatchers come to bribe him to let them steal from his ground, when the whole crowd rushed after the Resurrectionists, who narrowly escaped their vengeance. They ran to a police-office, and, in a loud voice, told the sitting magistrate if he sent officers to Holywell Moimt burial-ground they would fiud every grave robbed of its dead ; the grave- digger having sold them to the body-snatchers. Tlie indignant people rushed to the burial-ground, broke open the gates, dug up the graves, and finding in them empty cotfins, seized the gravedigger, threw him into one of the deepest excavatious, began shovelling the earth over him, and woidd have bvrried him alive, but for the activity of the constables. The mob then went to his house, broke every article of his fm-nitm-e, seized his wife and children, and dragged them through a stagnant pool in the neighboiu'hood. Such outrages as these, and the general indignation which arose from them, ha^dng interrupted the supply of bodies, other stratagems were resorted to. The Resurrectionists, by associating Avith the lower class of undertakers, obtained possession of the bodies of the poor Avhich were taken to their establishments several days before interment, and often a clergyman read the funeral service over a cofiin filled with brick- bats, or other substitute for the stolen body. The bodies of suicides were sometimes stolen from the charge of persons appointed to sit up with them ; or they were obtained from poor-houses and infirmaries by the Resurrectionists pretending relationship with the deceased, and claimiug the bodies for burial. By this means, one Patrick got a number of subjects, chiefly from St Giles's workhouse, his wife being employed, under various disguises, to own the bodies. At other times, the body-snatchers would destroy the tomlis, vaults, and expensive coffins of the wealthy, to obtain their prey ; and their exactions, villany, and insolence grew intolerable. The sale of a drunlccu man in a sack, as a subject, to Mr Brookes the ana- tomist, is a well-known incident. 251 THE BESUEKECTIONISTS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST VALENTINES EVE. Nevertheless, so iisi^ful were the services of the regular rvesm-rectionists, that when thej-- got into trouble, tlie surgeons niaJe great exertions in their favour, and advanced large sums of money to keep them out of gaol, or support them during imprison- ment. Sir Astloy Cooper expended hundreds of l)ounds for this purpose : a single liberation has been known to cost .t'lOO ; and an anatomical teacher has paid £5 as a weekly allowance, continued for two years, tt> a Resurrectionist confined in jirison. A leading Kesurrectionist once received £14-4 for twilve subjects in one evening, out of which he had to pay his underlings £5 each. These high prices not unfrequently led persons, while ali\-e, to oiler to sell their bodies for tlissection after death ; but very rarely did any surgeon accede to such a ]n'oposal, since the law did not recognise any right of property in a dead bod}'. Among the pajiers loft by Sir Astley Coojicr M'as found the following : ' Sir, I have been informed you are in the habit of purchasing bodys, and allowing the person a sum weekly. Knowing a poor woman that is desirous of doing so, I have taken the liberty of calling to know the truth. I remain, your humble servant, * * * .' Sir Astley Cooper's answer (copied on the back of the application) was brief : ' The triilh is, that jfou deserve to be hanged for making such an unfeeling offer. — A. C. ' The graves were not always distiu'bed to obtain possession of the entire body, for the teeth alone, at one time, offered temjJting remunei-ation. Mr Cooper relates an instance of a Resurrectionist feigning to look out a burial-jjlace for his poor wife, and thus obtaining access to the vault of a meeting-house, tlie trap-door of which he iinbolted, so that at night he let himself down into the vault, and secured the front teeth of the whole congregation, by which he cleared £60. For nearly thirty years had this nefarious traffic flourished, when a Select Committee of the House of Commons was a])pointed to investigate the matter. In reply to the following question : ' Does the state of the law actually prevent the teachers of anatomy from obtaining the body of any person, Avhich, in con- sequence of some peculiarity of structure, they may be particidarly desirous of prociu'ing ? ' Sir Astley Coojier stated: 'The law does not prevent oiu- obtain- ing the body of an individual if we think proper ; for there is no person, let his situation in life be what it may, whom, if I were disposed to dissect, I coidd not obtain.' In reply to another question, Sir Astley Cooper said, ' The law only enhances the price, and does not prevent the exhumation : nobody is secured by the law, it only adds to the price of the subject.' The profession had for many years been anxious to devise some plan to prevent the exhumation of bodies ; but it was thought too hazardous to attempt the enactment of laws on the subject, in consecpence of the necessary jiublicity of the discussions upon them. The horrible murders committed at Edinburgh, under the system of Burlcing, and exposed in the year 182S, at last reudei'ed it peremptorily necessary for the Government to establish some means of legahziug dissection, under restrictions regulated l)y the ministers of the Crown. An ius2)ector was appointed, to whom the certificate of the death of the individual, and the cir- cumstances under which he died, were to be submitted before the body could be dissected, and then only in the schools in which anatomizing was licensed by the Government ; and this new system has much raised the characters of those who are teaching anatomy, as well as the science itself, in the estimation of the public. The Resurrectionists mostly came to bad ends. There were but few regulars ; the others being com- posed of Spitalfields weavers, or thieves, who found 252 the disguise of this occupation convenient for canying on their own peculiar avocations. One was tried, and received sentence of death, for robbing the Edin- burgh mail, but was pardoned ui)on the intercession of the Archdukes John and Lewis, who were much interested by finding the criminal at work in his cell, articulating the bones of a horse ; he left the country, and was never after heard of. Another Resurrec- tionist, after a long and active career, withdrew from it in 1817, and occupied himself principally in obtain- ing and disposing of teeth. As a licensed suttler, in tlie Peninsida and France, he had drawn the teeth of those who had fallen in battle, and had plundei'cd the slain : with the produce of these adventures, he built a large hotel at Margate, but his previous occu- pation being disclosed, his house was avoided, and disposed of at a very heavy loss : he was subse- quently tried, and imprisoned for obtaining money mider false pretences, and was ultimately found dead in a public-house near Tower-hill. It is credibly re- ported of one body-snatcher, that, at his death, he left nearly £6000 to his family. One, being captured, was tried and found guilty of stealing the clothes in which the bodies were buried, and was transported for seven years. A man who was long superintendent to the dissecting-room at St Thomas's Hospital, was dismissed for receiving and paying for bodies sent to his employer', and re-selling them at an ad- vanced price, in Edinburgh ; he then turned Resur- rectionist, was detected and imprisoned, and died in a state of raving madness. FEBRUARY 13. St Polyeuctus, martyr at Melitine, 250. St Mirliiiia- nus, hermit, of Athens, circ. 4th century. St IMedomnoc (or Dominic), bishop of Ossory, 6th century. St Stephen, abbot in Italy, Gth century. St Licinius, bishop of Augers, 618. St Gregory II. (Pope), 631. Roger, abbot of Elan in Champagne, c'lvc. Wlfi. St Catherine de Ricci, virgin, 1589. Born. — Alexander "Wedderhurn, Earl ofRosslyn, 1733, Chesterliall ; David Allan, Scottish painter, 1744, Alloa; Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, diplomatist, 1754. Died. — Catherine Howard, beheaded, 1543, Towei- ; Benvenuto Cellini, Florentine s-culptor, 1576; Elizabeth (of Bohemia), 1662, Leicester House ; Dr Cotton Mather, 1728, Bosto7i, N. A. ; Dr Samuel Croxall, fabulist, 1752 ; Charles Count de Vergennes, French diplomatist, 1787, Versailles ; the Duke de Berri, assassinated, 1820, Paris ; Henry Hunt, political churacter, 1835 ; Sharou Turner, historian, 1847. gt ^lalcntlnx's €bc. At Norwicli, St Valeutiue's eve appears to be still kept as a time for a general giving and re- ceiving of gifts. It is a lively and stirring scene. ' The streets swarm with carriers, and baskets laden with treasures ; bang, bang, bang go the knockers, and away rushes the banger, depositing first upon the door-step some packages from tlie basket of stores— again and again at intervals, at every door to Avliich a missive is addressed, is the same repeated, till tlie baskets are empty. Anonymously, St Valentine presents his gifts, labelled only with " St Valentine's love," and " Good morrow, Valentine." Then within the CAPTAIJSr COOK. FEBllUAEY 14. LADY SAEAH LENNOX. Jiouses of destination, tlie screams, the sliouts, the rushings to catch the bang-bangs, — the flushed faces, sparkling ej'cs, I'ushing feet to pick up tlie fairy-gifts — inscriptions to be interpreted, mys- teries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out — great hampers, heavy and ticketed "With cai-e, this side upwards," to be unpacked, out of which jump live little boys with St Valentine's love to "the little ladies fair,— the sham bang-bangs, that bring nothing but noise and fun — the mock par- cels that vanish from the door-step by invisible strings when the door opens — monster parcels that dwindle to thread papers denuded of their multiplied envelopes, with litting mottoes, all tending to tlie final consummation of good counsel, " Happy is he Avho expects nothing, and he will not be disappointed." It is a glorious night ; marvel not that we would perpetuate so joyous a festivity.' — Madders's Mamhlcs in an Old Cifi/ {Norwich). FEBRUARY 1^. St Valentine, priest and martyr, circ. 270. St Abra- ame?, bishop of Carres, 422. St ]\Iaro, abbot in Syria, 433. St Ausentius, Lermit, of Bithynia, circ. 470. St Conran, bishop of Orkney, 7th century. Born. — Camille, Duke de Tallard, 1652, Dauphine ; Archdeacon Waterland, eminent theologian, 1G83, Wasebj. Died. — Pope Innocent I., 417 ; Richard 11., King of England, murdered, 1400 ; Lord Chancellor Talbot, 1737 ; Captain Ja^nes Coolv, killed at Oiohyhee, 1779 ; Sir William Klackstone, author of the Commentaries on Ihe Laws of En/jland, 1780, Wallingford. CAPTAIN COOK. The career of James Cook — son of a farm- servant* — originally a cabin-boy and common sailor, rising to command and to be the success- ful conductor of three great naval expeditions for discovery in seas heretofore untraversed, presents an example of conduct i-arely matched ; and it is not wonderful that scarcely the name of any Englishman is held in greater respect. It was on a second visit to the Sandwich Islands in the Pacific Ocean, that Cook's life was abruptly ended by an unfortunate collision with the natives, Eebruary 14, 1779, when he had just turned his fiftieth year. The squabble which led to this sad event arose from a miserable cause, the theft of a pair of tongs and a chisel by a native on board one of the ships. One now-a-days hears with surprise that the sailors, pursuing this man towards the shore, fired at him. All might have been ended amicably if an English officer had not attempted to seize the boat of another native, by way of * The father of Captain Cook, named likewise James, was a native of Ednam parish in Berwickshire, and the filthier of James Cook (grandfather of the navigator) was an elder of that parish in 1692, when Thomas Thomson, father of the poet of the Seasons, was its minister. These particulars are given with documentary evidence in J ohnston'' s Botani/ of the Eastern Borders, 1853 (p. 177), guarantee that the thief would be given up. These high-handed ^jroccedings naturally created a hostile feeling, and during the night an English boat was taken away. Cook went ashore at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning, to secure the person of the king, as a means of obtaining justice, and before eight he was a dead man on the beach, with the natives over his body cutting it to pieces. Cook was a man of extraordinary natural sagacity, fortitude, and integrity. He was ex- tremely kind-hearted ; yet, as often happens with such persons, somewhat hasty and irritable. He was very modest and unassuming ; not forward in discourse, yet always aflfable. In personal respects, he was chiefly remarkable for a tall and vigoi'ous frame of bodj' ; his head is described as small, but in his portraits the forehead seems a large expanse, and what the phrenologists call the ' knowing organs ' are well advanced. He had one peculiarity of great consequence to him : in the most critical circumstances, when he had given all proper dii'ections, he could take sleep with perfect calmness. His death through the paltry squabble just described, was the more remarkable, as his benevolence of disposition led him in general to look mildly on the depredations of the natives. Cook's widow, nee Elizabeth Batts, who had been married to him in 1762, survived him fifty- six years, dying in 1835. LADY SARAH LENNOX. Lady Sarah Lennox — born 14th February 174-5 — is an interesting figure of a subordinate class in modern English history. Her father, the second Duke of llichmond of his creation (grandson of King Charles II.), had made, in early life, not exactly a romantic marriage, but a marriage which was followed by romantic circumstances. The bride was Lady Sarah Cadogan, daughter of Marlborough's favourite general. ' Their union was a bargain to cancel a gam- bling debt between the parents, and the young Lord March was brought from college, the lady from the nursery, for the ceremony. The bride was amazed and silent, but the bridegroom exclaimed — " Surely, you are not going to marry me to that dowdy ?" Married he was, however, and his tutor instantly carried him ofi" to the Continent Three years afterwards. Lord March returned from his travels an accomplished gentleman, but having such a disagreeable re- collection of his wife that he avoided home, and repaired on the first night of his arrival to the theatre. There he saw a lady of so fine an ap- pearance that he asked who she was. " The reigning toast, the beautiful Lady March." He hastened to claim her, and they lived together so afl'ectionately, that, one year after his decease in 1750, she died of grief.'* Lady Sarah, one of the numerous children of this loving pair, grew up an extraordinary beauty. Of this we get some testimony from the great domestic chronicler of the last centmy, * Life of Sir Charles James Napier, by Sir W. Napier, i. 2. 253 LADY SABAH LENNOX. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LADY SARAn LENxVOX. ITovace AYalpole, avIio liad occasion, in January 17iU, to write to his friend George Montagu, regarding some private theatricals -wliieh he had witnessoil at llolhind House. By what appears to \is a strange taste, the phiy selected to bo pei'- fornied by children and very young ladies was Jane Shore; Lady Sarah Lennox enacting the heroine, while the boy, afterwards eminent as Charles James Fox, was Hastings. Walpolc praises the acting of the performers, but par- ticularly that of Lady Sarah, which he admits to have been full of nature and simplicity. ' Lady Sarah,' he says, ' was more beautiful than j'ou can couceive .... in white, with her hair about her ears, and on the ground, no Magdalen by Correggio was half so lovely and expressive.'* The charms of this lovely creature had already made an impression on the heart of George III., then newly come to the throne at two and twenty. There seems no reason to doubt that the young monarch formed the design of raising his lovely cousin (for such she was) to the tlirone. The idea was of course eagerly embraced by her ladyship's relations, and particularly by her eldest sister's husband, Mr Fox, who held the office of Paymaster of the Forces, and was anxious to strengthen the party to which he belonged. Any such project was, on the other hand, calculated extremely to offend the King's mother, the Princess of "Wales, who, for the support of her power over her son, was desirous that his future wife should be beholden to her- self for her brilliant position. Early in the winter 1760-1, the King took an opportunity of speaking to Lady Sarah's cousin, Lady Susan Strangeways, expressing a hope at the drawing- room, that her ladyshi]^ was not soon to leave town. She said she should. ' But,' said the King, ' you will return in summer for the coro- nation.' Lad}" Susan answered that she did not know — she hoped so. ' But,' said the King again, ' they talk of a wedding. There have been many proposals ; but I think an English match would do better than a foreign one. Pray tell Lady Sarah Lennox I say so.' Here was a sufficiently broad hint to inflame the hopes of a family, and to raise the head of a blooming girl of sixteen to the fifth heavens. It happened, however, that Lady Sarah had ab'eady allowed her heart to be pre-occupied, having formed a girlish attachment for the young Lord JS'ewbottle, gi'andson of the Marquis of Lothian. She did not therefore enter into the views of her family with all the alacrity which they desired. According to a narrative of Mr Grenville, ' She Avent the next drawing-room to St James's, and stated to the King, in as few words as she could, the inconveniences and diffi- culties in which such a step would involve him. He said, that was his business : he would stand them all: his part was taken, he wished to hear hers was likewise. 'In this state it continued, whilst she, by advice of her friends, broke off with Lord JNTew- bottle,t very reluctantly on her part. She went * Walpole's Letters. + He must h.ave been AVilliam John, who became fifth Marquis of Lothian, and died iu 1815, at the dge of eighty. 254 into the country for a few days, and by a fall from her horse broke her leg. The absence which this occasioned gave time and opportunities for her enemies to work ; they instilled jealousy into the King's mind upon the subject of Lord Newbottle, telling him that Lady Sarah still continued her intercourse with him, and imme- diately the marriage with the Princess of Strelitz was set on foot ; and, at Lady Sarah's return from the country, she found herself deprived of her crown and her lover Lord Newbottle, who complained as much of her as she did of the King. While this was in agitation, Lady Sarah used to meet the King in his rides early in the morning, driving a little chaise with Lady Susan Strange- ways ; and once it is said that, wanting to speak to him, she went dressed like a servant-maid, and stood amongst the crowd in the Guard-room, to say a few words to him as he passed by.'* Walpole also relates that Lady Sarah would sometimes appear as a haymaker in the park at Holland House, in order to attract the attention of the King as he rode past ;t but the oppor- tunity was lost. The habit of obedience to his mother's will carried the day, and he allowed an emissary to go on a mission to obtain a bride for him in the Protestant courts of Germany. It is believed that Lady Sarah was allowed to have hopes till the very day when the young sovereign announced to his council that he had resolved on wedding the Princess Charlotte of ]\Iecklenburg Strelitz. She felt ill-used, and her friends were all greatly displeased. With the King she remained an object of virtuous admira- tion, — perhaps also of pity. He m ished to soften the disappointment by endeavouring to get her established in a high position near his wife ; but the impropriety of such a course was obvious, and it was not persisted in. Lady Sarah, however, was asked by the King to take a place among the ten unmarried daughters of dukes and earls who held up the train of his queen at the coronation ; and this office, which we cannot help thinking in the circumstances derogatory, she consented to perform. It is said that,"iu the sober, duty-compelled mind of the sovereign, there always was a softness towards the object of his yoiithful attachment. Walj)ole relates that he blushed at his wedding service, when allusion was made to Abraham and Sarah. Lady Sarah Lennox in 1764 made a marriage which proved that ambition was not a ruling principle in her nature, her husband being ' a clergyman's son,' Sir Thomas Charles Bunburj^ Bart. Her subsequent life Avas in some respects infelicitous, her marriage being dissolved by Act of Parliament in 1776. By a subsequent mar- riage to the Hon. Major-General George Napier, she became the mother of a set of remarkable men, including the late Sir Charles James Napier, the conqueror of Scinde, and Lieut. -General Sir William Napier, the historian of the Penin- sular War. Her ladyship died at the age of eighty-two, in 1826, believed to be the last sur- viving great grand- daughter of Charles II. * Grcnville's Diary, Grenville Paper?, 1853, iv. 209. t Walpole's Memoirs of the lieign of George IIL, 1815, vol. i. p. 64, ST valentine's DAT. FEBEUARY 14. ST valentine's day. H il!)'alcirtitw's giTjT. At no remota period it was very clifFerent. E-idiculous letters were unknown; and, if letters of any kind were sent, they contained onlj- a courteous profession of attaclimeut from some young man to some young maiden, lioneyed with a few compliments to her various perfections, and exjiressive of a hope that his love might meet with return. But the true proper ceremony of St Valentine's Day was the drawing of a kind of lottery, followed by ceremonies not much unlike what is generally called the game of forfeits. Misson, a learned traveller, of the early part of tlie last centmy, gives apparently a correct ac- count of the principal ceremonial of the day. ' On the eve of St Valentine's Day,' he says, ' the young folks in England, and Scotland, by a very ancient custom, celebrate a little festival. An equal number of maids and bachelors get together ; each writes their true or some feigned name upon separate billets, which they roll up, and draw by way of lots, the maids taking the men's billets, and the men the maids' ; so that each of the young men lights upon a girl that he calls his valentine, and each of the girls upon a young man whom she calls hers. By this means each has two valentines ; but the man sticks faster to the valentine that has fallen to him than to the valentine to whom he is fallen. Fortune having thus divided the company into so many couples, the valentines give balls and treats to their mistresses, wear their billets several days upon their bosoms or sleeves, and this little sport often ends in love.' In that curious record of domestic life in Eng- land in the reign of Charles II., P^yjy.s's Diary, wc find some notable illustrations of this old custom. It appears that married and single were then alike liable to be chosen as a valen- LEN tine's Day is now almost everywhere a much degenerated festival, the only olbservance of any note consisting merely of the sending of jocular anonymous letters to parties whom one wishes to quiz, and this confined very much to the humbler classes. The approach of the day is now heralded by the appearance in the print- sellers' shop windows of vast numbers of mis- sives calculated for use on this occasion, each generally consisting of a single sheet of post paper, on the fii-st page of which is seen some ridiculous coloured caricature of the male or female figure, with a few burlesque verses below. More rarelj', the print is of a senti- mental kind, such as a view of Hymen's altar, with a pair undergoing initiation into wedded happiness before it, while Cupid flutters above, and hearts transfixed with his darts deco- rate the corners. Maid-servants and young fel- lows interchange such epistles with each other on the 14th of February, no doubt conceiving that the joke is amazingly good ; and, generally, the newspapers do not fail to record that the London postmen delivered so many hundred thousand more letters on that day than they do in general. Such is nearly the whole extent of the observances now peculiar to St Valentine's Day. .^ ^€k;.j^^^ ST valextixk's lextek-siiuweu. tine, and that a present was invariably and ne- cessarily given to the choosing party. Mr Pepys enters in his diary, on Valentine's Day, 1G(57 : ' This morning came up to my wife's bedside (I being up dressing myself) little Will Mercer to be her valentine, and brought her name written upon blue paper in gold letters, done by himself, very pretty ; and wc were both well pleased with it. 255 Sr VALEXTUifE S DAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST VALENTINE S DAY. But I am also this year my wife's valentiue, and it -will cost mc to ; "but that I must have hiid out if wo had uot boon vah^itiuos.' Two days after, he adds : ' I fmd that Mrs Pierce's little girl is my valentiue. she having drawn me : which I was not sorry for, it casing me of something more that I must have given to otliers. But here I do first observe the fashion of drawing mottoes as •well as names, so that Pierce, who drew my wife, did draw also a motto, and this girl drew anoUier for me. AYhat mine was, I forget ; but my wife's was ■' Most courteous and most fair," which, as it maybe used, or an anagram upon each name, might be Very pretty.' Noticing, soon afterwards, the jewels of the celebrated Miss Stuart, who became Duchess of Eichmond, he says : ' The Dulce of York, being once her valentine, did give her a jewel of about £80i) ; and my Lord Maudeville, her valentiue this year, a ring of about £300.' These presents were undoubtedly given in order to relieve the obligation under which the being drawn as valentines had placed the donors. In February 1668. Pepys notes as follows — ' This evening my wife did with great pleasure shew 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 one hundred and fifty pounds' worth of jewels of one kind or other ; and I am glad of it, ibr it is fit the wretch should have something to content herself with.' The reader will under- stand wretch to be used as a term of endearment. Notwithstanding the practice of relieving, there seems to have been a disposition to believe that the person drawn as a valentine had some con- siderable likelihood of becoming the associate of the party in wedlock. At least, we may suppose that this idea would be gladly and easily arrived at, where the i)arty so drawn was at all eligible from other considerations. There was, it appears, a prevalent notion amongst the common people, that this was the day on which the birds selected their mates. They seem to have imagined that an influence was inherent in the day, which ren- dered in some degree binding the lot or chance by which any youth or maid was now led to fix his attention on a person of the opposite sex. It was supposed, for instance, that the first unmar- ried person of the other sex whom one met on St Yalentine's morning in walking abroad, was a destined wife or a destined husband. Thus Gay makes a rural dame remark — ' Last Yalentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find, I early rose just at the break of day, Before the sua had chased the stars away : A-field I went, amid tlie morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should liousewives do). Thee first I sined — and the first swain we see, In spite of Fortune shall om* true love be. ' A forward Miss in the Connoisseur, a series of essays published in 175 1-6, thus adverts to other notions with respect to the day : ' Last Friday was Valentine's Day, and the night before, I got five bay-leaves, and pinned four of them to the four corners of my pillow, and the fifth to the middle ; and then, if I dreamt of my sweetheart, Betty said we shoiild be married before the year 256 ^ was out. But to make it more sui-e, I boiled an eii;g hard, and took out the yolk, and filled it with salt ; and when I went to bed, ate it, shell and all, without speaking or drinking after it. Vie also wrote our lovers' names upon bits of paper, and rolled them up in clay, and put them into water; and the first that rose up was to be our valentine. Would you think it ? — Mr Blos- som was my man. I lay a-bed and shut my eyes all tlie morning, till he came to our house; for I woidd not have seen another man before him for all the world.' St Yalentine's Day is alluded to by Shakspeare and by Chaucer, and also by the poet Lydgate (who died in 1410). One of the earliest known writers of Yalentines, or poetical amorous ad- dresses for tliis day, was Chai'les Duke of Or- leans, who was taken at the battle of Agincourt. Drayton, a poet of Shakspeare's time, full of great but almost unknown beauties, wrote thus charmingly TO niS VALENTINE. ' Muse, bid the mom awake, Sad winter now declines, Eacli bird dotli choose a mate, This day's St Valentine's : For that good bishop's sake Get up, and let us see, What beauty it shall be That fortune vis assigns. But lo ! in happy hour. The place wliereiu she lies, In yonder climbing tower Gilt by the glittering rise ; Oh, Jove ! that in a shower, As once that thuiiderer did, When he in drops lay hid. That I coidd her surprise ! Her canopy I'll draw, AVith spangled plumes bedight, No mortal ever saw So ravishing a sight ; That it the gods might aAve, And powerfidly transpierce The globy universe, Out-shooting every light. My lips I'n softly lay Upon her heavenly cheek, Dyed like the dawning day, As jiolish'd ivory sleek : And in her ear I'll say, ' ' Oh thou bright morning-star ! 'Tis I that come so far, My valentiue to seek." Each little bird, this tide. Doth choose her loved peer, Which constantly abide In wedlock aU the year, As nature is their guide : So may we two be true This year, nor change for new, As turtles coupled were. Let's laugh at them that choose Their valentines by lot ; To wear their names that use, Whom idly they have got. Such poor choice we refuse. Saint Valentiue befriend ; We thus this morn may spend. Else, Muse, awake her not.' \ ' ST VALENTINE S DAT. FEBEUAEY 15. EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGE8. Donne, another poet of the same age, remarkable for rieli though scattered beauties, -n-rites an epithalaniium on the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth to Frederick Count Palatine of the Khiue — the marriage which gave the present royal family to the throne — and which took place on St Valentine's Day, 1614. The opening is fine — ' Hail, Bishop Valentine ! whose day this is ; All the air is thy diocese, And all the chhpiug choristers And other birds are thy parishioners : Thou marryest every year The IjTic lark and the grave whispering dove ; The sparrow that neglects his life for love. The household bird with the red stomacher ; Thou mak'st the blackbird speed as soon As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon — • This day more cheerfidly than ever shine, This day which might inflame thyseh, old Valen- tine ! ' The origin of these peculiar observances of Sfc Valentine's Day is a subject of some obscurity. The saint himself, who was a priest of Eome, martyred in the third century,* seems to have had nothing to do with the matter, beyond the accident of his day being used for the purpose. Mr Douce, in his Illustnttions of S/iakspcare, says : ' It was the practice in ancient Kome, during a great part of the month of February, to celebrate the Lupercalia. which were feasts in honour of Pan and Juno, whence the latter deity was named Februata, Februalis, and Februlla. On this occasion, amidst a variety of ceremonies, the names of young women were put into a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed. The pastors of the early Chris- tian church, who, by every possible means, en- deavoured to eradicate the vestiges of pagan superstitions, and chiefly by some commutations of their forms, substituted, in the present instance, the names of particular saints instead of those of the women ; and as the festival of the Luper- calia had commenced about the middle of Feb- ruary, they appear to have chosen St Valentine's Day for celebrating the new feast, because it occurred nearly at the same time. This is, in part, the opinion of a leai-ned and I'ational com- piler of the Lives of the Saints, the Eev. Alban Butler. It should seem, however, that it was utterly impossible to extirpate altogether any ceremony to which the common people had been much accustomed — a fact which it were easy to prove in tracing the origin of various other popular superstitions. And, accordingly, the outline of the ancient ceremonies was pre- served, but modified by some adaptation to the Christian system. It is reasonable to suppose, that the above practice of choosing mates would gradually become reciprocal in the sexes, and tjiat all persons so chosen would be called Valen- tines, from the day on which the ceremony took place.' * Yiilentine met a sad deatli, being first beaten with clubs and then beheaded. The greater part of his remains are preserved in the church of St I'raxedes at Rome, where a gate (now the Porta del Popolo) was formerly named from him Porta Valenlini. 17 FEBRUARY 15. Saints Faustinus and Jovita, martyrs at Brescia, about 121. St Sigefride of York, apostle in Sweden, 1002. Born. — Galileo Galilei, astronomer, 1564, Pisa ; Louis XV. {of France), 1710. Died. — Oswy (of XortJmmhria), 670 ; John Philips, poet, 1708, Hereford ; Anthony Earl of Shaftesbury, author of C/iaracteristics, 1713, Naples; Bishop Atter- bury, 1732 ; John Hadley, inventor of the sextant, 1744; Charles Andrew Vanloo, "historical painter, 1765. PHILIPS, THE CIDER POET. John Philips, the artificial poet who parodied the style of Milton in the Sjjlendid Shillinc/, is better known by his poem upon Cider, ' which continued long to be read as an imitation of Virgil's Georgics, which needed not shun the presence of the original.' Johnson was told by Miller, the eminent gardener and botanist, that there were many books written on cider in prose which do not contain so much truth as Philips's poem. ' The precepts which it contains,' adds Johnson, 'are exact and just; and it is, therefore, at once a book of entertainment and science.' It is in blank verse, and an echo of the numbers of Paradise Lost. ' In the disposition of his matter, so as to intersperse precepts relating to the culture of trees, with sentiments more generally alluring, and in easy and graceful transitions from one subject to another, he has very dUigeutly imitated his master ; but he unhappily pleased himself with blank verse, and supposed that the numbers of Milton, which impress the mind with venera- tion, combined as they are with subjects of in- conceivable grandeur, could be sustained by images which at most can only rise to eloquence. Contending angels may shake the regions of heaven in blank verse ; but the flow of equal measures, and the embellishment of rhyme, must recommend to our attention the art of en- grafting, and decide the merit of the " redstreak" and " pearmain." ' — Johnson. Philips was cut oflT by consumption, when he had just completed his thirty-second year. He was buried in the cathedral of Hereford; and Sir Simon Harcourt, afterwards Lord Chancellor, gave him a monument in Westminster Abbey, which bears a long inscription, in flowing Latinit^^ said by Johnson to be the composition of Bishop Atterbury, though commonly attributed to Dr Freind. EXTRAORDINARY MARRIAGES. Among the many remarkable marriages on record, none are more curious than those in which the bridegroom has proved to be of the same sex as the bride. Last century there lived a woman who dressed in male attire, and was constantly going about captivating her sisters, and marrying them! On the 5th of July 1777, she was tried at a ci-iminal court in London for thus disguising herself, and it was proved that at various times she had been married to three women, and ' defrauded them of their money and their clothes.' The fair deceiver was required by the justices to give the daughters of the citizens an opportunity of making themselves acquainted with her features 257 EXTKAOEDINAET MAEEIAGES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGES. bv Standing in the pillory at Cheapside : and after i^'oing tlirougli this ordeal, she was imprisoned for six montlis. In 1773 a woman went courting a Avoman, dressed as a man, and was A^ery favourably reeeived. Tlie lady to whom these not A'^ery delieate attentions at ere paid was much older than the lover, but she was possessed of about a hundred pounds, and this was the attraction to her adA'enturous friend. But the intended treachery was discovered; and, as the original chronicler of the story saj^s, 'the old lady proved too knowing.' A more extraordinary case than either of these was that of two women who lived together by mutual consent as man and wife for six-and-thirty years. They kept a public-house at Poplar, and the 'wife,' when on her death-bed, for the iirst time told her relatives the fact con- cerning her marriage. The writer in the Gentle- man's Magazine (1776) who records the circum- stances, states that ' both had been crossed in love when young, and had chosen this method to avoid further importunities.' It seems, however, that the truth was suspected, for the ' husband ' subsequently charged a man with extorting money from her under the threat of disclosing the secret, and for this offence he was sentenced to stand three times iu the pUlory, and to undergo four years' imprisonment. It is usually considered a noteworthy circum- stance for a man or woman to have been married three times, but of old this number would have been thought little of. St Jerome mentions a widow that married her twenty-second husband, who in his turn had been married to twenty Avives — surely an experienced couple ! A woman named Elizabeth Masi, who died at Florence in 1768, had been married to seven husbands, all of whom she outlived. She married the last of the seven at the age of 70. "When on her death-bed she recalled the good and bad points in each of her husbands, and having rmpartiaUy weighed them in the balance, she singled out her fifth spouse as the favourite, and desired that her remains might be interred near his. The death of a soldier is recorded in 1784 who had had five wives ; and his Avidow, aged 90, wept over the grave of her fourth husband. The writer who mentioned these facts naively added : ' The said soldier was much attached to the marriage state.' There is an account of a gentleman who had been married to four wives, and who lived to be 115 years old. "When he died he left twenty-three ' children ' alive and Avell, some of the said children being from three to four score. A gentleman died at Bordeaux in 1772, who had been married sixteen times. In July 1768 a couple were living in Essex who had been married eighty-one years, the husband beiug 107, and the wife 103 years of age. At the church of St Clement Danes, in 1772, a woman of 85 was married to her sixth husband. Instances are by no means rare of affectionate attachment existing between man and wife over a period longer than is ordinarily allotted to human life. In the middle of the last century a farmer of Nottingham died in his 107th year. Three days afterwards his wife died also, aged 97. They had lived happily together upwards of eighty years. About the same time a yeoman of 258 Coal-pit Heath, Gloucestershire, died in his 104th year. The day after his funeral his Avifc expired at the age of 115 ; they had been married eighty- one years. The auuouncements of marriages published in the Gentleman's Magazine during the greater part of last century included a A^ery precise statement of the portions bi'ought by the Ibrides. Here are a few of such notices : ' Mr J^^. Tillotsou, an eminent preacher among the people called Quakers, and a relative of Arch- bishop Tillotsou, to Miss , Avith i;7000.' ' Mr P. Boweu to Miss Nicholls, of Queen- hithe, with £10,000.' ' Sir George C. to the widow Jones, with £1000 a-year, besides ready money.' The following announcement follows the no- tice of a marriage in the Gentleman's Maga- zine for November 1774 : — ' They at the same time ordered the sexton to make a grave for the interment of the lady's father, then dead.' This Avas unusual ; but a stranger scene took place at St Dunstan's church on one occasion, during the performance of the marriage ceremony. The bridegroom was a carpenter, and he followed the service devoutly enough until the words occurred, ' With this ring I thee wed.' He re- peated these, and then shaking his fist at the bride added, ' And with this fist I'll break thy head.' The clergyman refused to proceed, but, says the account, ' the fellow declared he meant no harm,' and the confiding bride ' believed he did but jest,' Avhereupon the service Avas com- pleted. A stUl more iinpleasant affair for the lady once happened. A young couple went to get married, but found on their ax-rival at church that they had not money to pay the customary fees. The clergyman not being inclined to give credit, the bridegroom went out to get the re- quired sum, while the lady waited in the vestry. During his Avalk the lover changed his mind, and never returned to the church. The young girl Avaited two hours for him, and then departed, ■ — ' Scot free,' dryly remarks one narrator. A bridegroom was once arrested at the church door on the charge of having left a Avife and family chargeable to another parish, ' to the great grief and shame of the intended bride.' In Scotland, in the year 1749, there was married the ' noted bachelor, W. Hamilton.' He was so deformed that he was utterly unable to Avalk. The chronicler draws a startling portrait of the man : ' His legs were draAvn up to his ears, his arms were twisted backwards, and almost every member Avas out of joint.' Added to these peculiarities, he was eighty years of age, and Avas obliged to be carried to church on men's shoul- ders. Nevertheless, his bride was fair, and onlj^ twenty years of age ! A wedding once took place in Berkshire under remarkable circum- stances : the bridegroom was of the mature age of eighty-five, the bride eighty-three, and the bridesmaids each upwards of seventy — neither of these damsels having been married. Six grand-daughters of the bridegroom strewed floAvers before the ' happy couple,' and foiu: grandsons of the bride sung an epithalamium composed by the parish clerk on the occasion. On the 5 th February, in the eighteenth year EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGES. FEBEUAEY 15. TIME-CANDLKS. of Elizabeth (corresponding to 157G), Thomas Eilsb}^, a deaf man, was married in St Martin's parish, Leicester. Seeing that, on account of his natm'al infirmity, he could not, for his part, observe the order of the form of marriage, some peculiarities were introduced into the ceremony, Avith the approbation of the Bishop of Lincoln, the commissary Dr Chippendale, and the Mayor of Leicester. ' The said Thomas, for expressing of his mind, instead of words, of his own accord used these signs : first he embraced her [the bride, Ursula Eusset] with his arms ; took her by the hand and put a ring on her finger ; and laid his hand upon his heart, and held up his hands towards heaven; and, to shew his con- tinuance to dwell with her to his life's end, he did it by closing his eyes with his hands, and digging the earth with his feet, and pulling as though he would ring a bell, with other signs ap- proved.'* At the more recent marriage of a deaf and dumb young man at Greenock, the only sin- gularity was in the company. The bridegroom, his thi'ee sisters, and two young men with them were all deaf and dumb. There is a case men- tioned in Dodsley's Annual Ite(jisier of an ostler at a tavern in Spilsby who walked with his intended wife all the way to Gretna Green to get married — 240 miles. Some of the most remarkable marriages that have ever taken place are those in which the brides came to the altar partly, or in many cases entirely, divested of clothing. It was formerly a common notion that if a man married a woman en chemisette he was not liable for her debts ; and in Notes and Queries there is an account by a clergyman of the celebration of such a marriage some few years ago. He tells us that, as nothing was said in the rubric about the woman's dress, he did not think it right to refuse to perform the marriage service. At Whitehaven a wedding was celebrated under the same circumstances, and there are several other instances on record. A curious example of compulsory mai'riage once took place in Clerkenwell. A blind woman, forty years of age, conceived a strong afiection for a 3'^oung man who worked in a house near to her own, and whose 'hammering' she could hear early and late. Having formed an acquaintance with him, she gave him a silver watch and other presents, and lent him £10 to assist him in his business. The recipient of these favours waited on the lady to thank her, and intimated that he was about to leave London. This was by no means what the blind woman wanted, and as she was determined not to lose the person whose industrial habits had so charmed her, she had him arrested for the debt of £10 and thrown into prison. While in confinement she visited him, and offered to forgive him the debt, on con- dition that he married her. Placed in this strait, the young man chose what he deemed the least of the two evils, and married his ' benefactress,' as the writer in tlie G enileman s Maf/azine calls her. The men who arrested him gave the bride away at the altar. In 17G7 a young blacksmith of Bedford was paying his addresses to a maiden, and upon calling to see her one evening * From the parish register, quoted in Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., iv. 489. was asked by her mother, what was the use of marrying a girl without money ? Would it not be better for him to take a wife who could bring £500 ? The blacksmith thought it would, and said he should be 'eternally obliged' to his adviser if she could introduce him to such a prize. ' I am the person, then,' said the mother of his betrothed, and we are told that ' the bargain was struck immediately.' Upon the retui-n of the girl, she found her lover and parent on exceedingly good terms with each other, and they were subsequently married. The bride was sixty-four years of age, and the bridegroom eighteen. This disparity of years is comparativel}' trifling. A doctor of eighty was married to a young woman of twenty-eight ; a blacksmith of ninety (at Worcester, 1768) to a girl of fifteen ; a gentleman of Berkshire, aged seventy-sis, to a girl whom his third wife had brought up. The husband had children livmg 'thrice the age' of his fourth wife. At Hill farm, in Berkshire, a blind woman of ninety years was mari'ied to her ploughman, aged twenty ; a gentleman of Worcester, upwards of eighty-five, to a girl of eighteen ; a soldier of ninety-five, ' who had served in King William's wars, and had a ball in his nose,' to a girl of fifteen. In 1769 a woman of Hotherhithe, aged seventy, was married to a youug man aged twenty-three — ^just half a century difference between their ages. A girl of sixteen married a gentleman of ninety-four — but he had £50,000. TIME-CANDLES. In the Life of Alfred the Great, by Asserius, we read that, before the invention of clocks, Alfred caused six tapers to be made for his daily use ; each taper, containing twelve pennyweights of wax, was twelve inches long, and of proportionate breadth. The whole length was diAdded into twelve j'arts, or inches, of which three would biu'n for one hour, so that each taper would be consumed in fom- hours ; and the six tapers, being lighted one after the other, lasted for twenty-four hom-s. But the wiud blowing through the windows and doors, and chinks of the wails of the chapel, or through the cloth of his tent, in which tliey were bm-ning, wasted these tapers, and, consequently, they bm-nt with no regularity : he therefore designed a lantern made of ox or cow horn, cut into thin plates, in which he inclosed the tapers ; and thus protecting them from the wind, the period of their burning became a matter of certainty. This is an amusing and oft-quoted story, but, lilve many other old stories, it lacks autheaticity. The work of Asser, there is reason to beheve, is not genuine. See the argimients in Wright's Biorj. Brit. Lit. vol. i. pp. 408 — 412. It moreover ap2)ears that some of the institutions popidarly ascribed to Alfred, existed before his time. — KenMe's Saxons in Ewjland. Still, there is nothing very questionable iu this mode of Alfi-ed's to measm-e time; and, possibly, it may have suggested an 'improvement,' whicli was patented so recently as 1859, and which consists in making marks on the side or aromid the sides of candles either by indentation or colouring at intervals, and equal dis- tances a2)art, according to the size of the candle, to indicate the time liy the burning of the caudle. The marks are to consist of horns, half-hours, and if neces- sary quaitcr-hours, the distance to be determined by the kind of candle used ; the mark or other annourice- ment may be made cither in the iirocess of manidac- ture or after. 259 THE GKEAT TITN OF HEIDELBERO. THE 3300E: OF DAYS. BAKON TRENCK. THE GREAT TUN OF HKIDEL15EKG. In a larco under room, in the oastlo or palace of the Princes RJatine of the Eliiue at Heiaclhcrg, the eccentric traveller Thomas Coryat fomi.l this vast vessel in its orisiiual form, ot -vvhich he has given a picture representing himself as perched on its top, f\3 THE GREAT TUN OF HEIDELBERG. FEBRUARY 16. St Onesimus, disciple of St Paul, martyr, 95. Saints Elias, Jeremy, Isaias, Samuel, and Daniel, Egyptian martyrs, 309. St Juliana, virgin martyr at Nicomedia, about 309. St Tanco (or Tatto), of Scotland, bishop, martyr at Verdun, about 815. St Gregory X. (Pope), 1276. Born. — Philip Melanchthon, reformer, 1497, Bretten ; Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France, and Protestant leader, 1516, Chatillon ; Archbishop (John) Sharp, 1644, Bradford ; Baron Trenck, 1726. Died. — Alphonso III. (of PoWM^a?), 1279; Archbishop Henry Deane, 1502, Canterhunj ; John Stofflcr, German astronomer, 1531; Dr Richard Mead, virtuoso, 1754, St Pancras ; Peter ]\Iacquer, French chemist, 1784, Paris; Giovan Batista Casti, Italian poet, 18C3, Paris; Lindley i\Iurray, grammarian, 1826 ; Dr Kane, Ame- rican Arctic explorer, 1857, Havana. BARON TRENCK. The career of tliis extraordinary man presents several remarkable instances of tlie fatal influence of vanity and ungovernable passion upon a life ■wliicli, at tlie outset, was brilliant with good for- tune. Bom February- IG, 1726, of parents belonging to the most ancient and wealthy houses in East Prussia, the young Baron distinguished himself in his thirteenth year, at his University ; one year later he wounded and disarmed in a duel one of the most celebrated swordsmen of Konigs- berg ; and in his sixteenth year, Frederick (after- 260 with a glass of its contents in his hands. To him it appeared the greatest wonder he had seen in his travels, fully entitled to rank with those seven wonders of the world of which ancient authors in- form us. Its construction was begiui in the year 1589 and finished in 1591, one Michael 'NVaruer being the principal fabricator. It was composed of beams twenty-seven feet long, and had a diameter of eighteen feet. The iron hooping was eleven thousand pounds in weight. The cost was eleven score and t'igliteen pounds sterling. It could hold a hundred and thirty-two fuders of wine, a fuder being equal to four English hogs- heads, and tiie value of the lUienish con- tained in it when Coryat visited Heidelberg (1G()8) was close upon two thousand pounds. ' When the cellarer,' says Coryat, 'draw- etli wine out of the vessel, he ascendeth two several degrees of wooden stairs made in the form of a ladder, and so goeth up to the top ; about the middle whereof there is a bung-hole or venting orifice, into the which he conveyeth a 2)retty instrument of some foot and a half long, made in the form of a spout, wherewith he draweth u]) the wine and so pourcth it after a pretty manner into a glass.' The traveller advises visitors to lieware lest they be inveigled to drink more than is good for them. * Murray's Handhouh of tlie Rldne repre- sents the present tun as made in 1751, as thirty-six feet long and twenty-four in height, and as capable of containing 800 hogsheads, or 283,200 bottles. It has been disused since 1769. wards the Great) appointed him a cadet, and soon afterwards the King gave him a cornetcy in his body-guard, then the most splendid and gal- lant regiment in Europe. Trenck was a great favourite at court ; but about two years after- wards an imprudent attachment Avas formed between him and the Princess Amelie. which had a fatal influence upon his fortunes. During the war between Prussia and Austria, Trenck, being detected in a correspondence with the enemy, was sent prisoner to the fortification of Glatz. It was at the same time ascertained that large sums of money had been remitted to him by the princess. From that time must be dated Fre- derick's intense and obdurate hatred of Trenck. Making his escape by bribery, he went to Pussia, where he was appointed captain of a troop of hussars : he was in high favour with the empress, and acquired considerable wealth through the legacy of a Pussian princess ; but the Prussian ambassador left nothing undone to injure him, in accordance, as he pretended, with instructions from the King, his master. In 1748, Trenck returned to Prussia, to visit his family, and at Dantzic he was arrested by a party of hussars, and taken prisoner to Berlin : he was at first treated well, but his intemperate conduct led to his being sent to Magdeburg, and confined in a cell underground, and almost without light : his sufferings may be read in his own memoirs. After two soldiers had sufi'ered death for con- niving at his attempts to escape, and other plots * Coryat's Ci-udities, ed. 1776, ii. 351. BARON TKENCK. FEBEUAEY 10. DE MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. were discovered, a prison was built on purpose for him, in which he was chained to the walls with fetters of fifty-six pounds weight. Here he remained four years, when Frederick consented to his release upon condition of his leaving the kingdom. He went first to Vienna, where he was again arrested on account of his violent lan- guage against Frederick ; but he was soon set free, and advised to retire. He settled at Aix-la- Chapelle, married, and commenced business as a wine-merchant, but did not prosper, and became bankrupt. He next wrote articles of a demo- cratic tendency for several periodical publica- tions ; and in 1787, after the death of Frederick the Great, he published his memoirs, for the copy- right of which he received a very large sum. The work was translated into almost all the European languages ; the ladies at Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, wore rings, necklaces, bonnets, and dresses a la Trenclc, and he was made the hero of seven pieces on the French stage. He subsequently com- menced a weekly journal at Aix-la-Chapelle, under the title of L'Ami des Sommes, in which he advocated the new French doctrines. In 1792, he went to Paris, joined a Jacobin club, and was afterwards a zealous adherent of the Mountain party, which, nevertheless, betrayed and accused him, and he was thrown into prison. He would, however, have escaped by the fall of Robespierre, had it not been for his restlessness. ' He was,' said Du Eoure, ' the greatest liar I ever knew. To that, his favourite propensity, he owed his fate. Our hope of escape in the prison was to remain unno- ticed by the gaoler, and wait events. Upon the least complaint, the order from the authorities was a la mort, sometimes without the ceremony of a trial. The prisoners were numerous, and for some days a rumour had been circulated among them, and continually kept up, as if with fresh information, that the Prussians were marching upon Paris, carrying all before them. We knew of nothing certain that went on outside the prison walls, and were not without hopes that this intelligence was correct. Still, we were puzzled to discover how such information could be promulgated amongst iis, as it thus was, early every morning, with some new addition. This prevalent topic of conversation, it seems, had, with its daily additions, reached the ears of the gaoler, who caused the gates of the prison to be closed to ingress or egress until the day was far advanced, in order to try whether any fresh news thus circulated came from without, or was con- cocted within the walls. Trenck that morning circulated some additional particulars about the Prussians' vicinity to Paris, which were traced to him through those to whom he had communi- cated them, with the addition, that his informa- tion was certain, for he had just received it, which was impossilile. He was "thus caught in circu- lating false rumours, complained of by the gaoler, and lost his head by tlie guillotine, near tJie Barricre du Trone, on the 2Gth of July 1794. On the scaffold, and in his sixty-ninth year, lie gave proof of his ungovernable passions. He harangued the crowd, and when his head was on the block, his vehemence Mas such, that the executioner had to hold him by his silver locks to meet the fatal stroke. He was buried, with the other victims of that sanguinary period, in a spot of ground not more than thirty feet square, in the corner of the garden of the canonesses of St Augustine, near the ancient village of Picpus, now inclosed in the Faubourg Antoine.' Baron Trenck was a man of considerable literary talents, and was fully as familiar with English as with French literature. In person he was stout and thick-set, his countenance by no means prepossessing, from a disease which had disfigured it ; and he was slovenly in his dress. DR MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. Foremost among the medical men of the last century, for his professional skill, his amiable manners, and princely munificence, ranks I3r Bichard Mead, who was consulted beside the death-bed of Queen Anne, and became physician to George II. He was born at Stepney, near London, in 1675 ; and after studying in conti- nental schools, and taking the degree of Doctor of Medicine at Padua, he settled at his native village, and there established his reputation. Among his early services were his researches in experimental physiology, for which no small degree of courage was necessary. He handled vipers, provoked them, and encouraged them to seize hold of hard bodies, on which he imagined that he could collect their venom in all its force. Having obtained the matter, he conveyed it into the veins of living animals, mixed it with human blood, and even ventured to taste it, in order to establish the utility of sucking the wounds in- flicted by serpents. Mead was instrumental in promoting inocu- lation for the small-pox : the Prince of Wales desired him, in 1721, to superintend the inocula- tion of some condemned criminals, intending afterwards to encoiirage the practice \>j employ- ing it in his own family ; the experiment amply succeeded, and the individuals on whom it was made recovered their liberty. When the terrible plague ravaged Marseilles, and its contagious origin was discredited, Dr Mead, after a careful examination of the subject, declared the plague to be a contagious distemper, and a quarantine was enjoined ; and he proposed a system of Medical Police, in a tract of which seven editions were sold in one year. Through Dr Mead's influence, Sutton's invention for expell- ing the foul and corrupted air from ships was tried, and its simplicity and efficacy proved ; a model of Sutton's machine made in copper was deposited in the museum of the Boj^al Society, and the ships of his Majesty's navy were pro- vided with it. The fact that, in each of these cases. Mead's results have been superseded by more recent discoveries, does not in the least detract from his merit. What he effected was, for his time, wonderful. Mead was fast approaching the summit of his fortune, when his great protector, Badcliffe, died, and Mead moved "into his house in Bloomsbury- squarc. After the most brilliant career of pro- fessional and literary reputation, of personal honour, of wealth, and of notoriety, which ever fell in combination to the lot of any medical man in any age or country, Mead took to the bed ^ 201 DK MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. THE BOOE OF DAYS. LINDLEY MUEEAY. from which he -was to riso no more, on the 11th of February, ami expired on the 16th of the same mouth. IToi. ilis deatli was unaccom- panied by any visible siijns of pain. In praoliee, Pr JMead was without a rival; his receipts averaging, for several years, between six ami seven thousand pounds, an enormous sum in relation to the value of money at that period. lie daily sat in Batson's coffee-house, in Corn- hill, and at Tom's, in Eussell-street, Coveut- gardeu, to inspect written, or receive oral, state- ments from the apothecaries, prescribing without seeing the patient, for a half-guinea fee. He gave advice gratuitously, not merely to the indi- gent, but also to the clergy, and all men of learning. Dr ilead had removed into Great Ormond- street, Queen-squai'e, several years before his death : the house is No. 49, corner of Powis- place ; behind his house was a good garden, in which he built a gallery and museum. There Mead gave conversazioni, which were the first meetings of the kind. He possessed a rare taste for collecting ; but his books, his statues, his medals, were not to amuse only his own leisure : the humble student, the unrecommended fo- reigner, the poor inquirer, derived almost as much enjoyment from these treasures as their owner ; and he constantly kept in his pay several scholars and artists, who laboured, at his expense, for the benefit of the public. His correspon- dence extended to all the principal literati of Europe, who consulted him, and sent him many curious presents. At his table might be seen the most eminent men of the age. Pope was a ready guest, and the delicate poet was always sure to be regaled with his favourite dish of sxceetbreads. Politics formed no bar of separation : the celebrated physicians. Garth, Arbuthnot, and Freind, were not the less his intimate associates because they were Tories. Wlien Freind was sent to the Tower for some supposed political offence. Mead frequently visited him, and at- tended his patients in his absence ; from Sir Eobert Walpole he procured his liberation, and then presented him with a large sum, being the fees which he had received from his brother prac- titioner's clients. He also persuaded the wealthy citizen, Guy, to bequeath his fortune towards the noble hospital which bears his name. ^ilthough Mead's receipts were so considerable, and two large fortunes were bequeathed to him, his benevolence, public spirit, and splendid mode of living, prevented him from leaving great wealth to his family. He whose mansion was a sort of open house for men of genius and talent, who kept a second table for his humbler dependents, and who was driven to his country house, near Windsor, by six horses, was not likely to amass wealth ; but he did better : he acted according to his own conviction, that what he had gained from the public could not be more worthily bestowed than in the advancement of ' the pubUc mind ; and he truly fulfiUed the in- scription which he had chosen for his motto: iNon sibi, sed toti.'* After Dr Mead's death, the sale of his library and museum reaUzed between fifteen and sixteen * Pettigrew's Zu-es of British Physicians. 262 thousand pounds, his pictures alone producing £3100. The printed catalogue of the library contains 6592 separate numbers; Oriental, Greek, and Latin manuscripts forming no inconsiderable part : the greater portion of the library he be- queathed to the College of Physicians. The collection included prints and drawings, coins and medals, marble statues of Greek philosophers and llomau emperors ; bronzes, gems, intaglios, Etruscan and other vases ; marble busts of Shakspeare, Milton, and Pope, by Scheemakers ; statues of Hygeia and Antinous ; a celebrated bronze head of Homer ; and an iron cabinet (once Queen Elizabeth's), full of coins, among which was a medal, with Oliver Cromwell's head in profile ; legend ' The Lord of Hosts,' the word at Dunbar, 1650 ; on the reverse, the Parliament sitting. Of so worthy a man as Dr Mead memorials are interesting : in the College of Physicians is a fine bust of him, by Roubiliac ; and here is his portrait, and the gold-headed cane which he received from Hadcliffe, and which was afterwards carried by Askew, Pitcairn, and Matthew Baillie. Among the pictures at the Foundling Hospital is Dr Mead's portrait, by Allan Ram- say ; and in the nave of Westminster Abbey is a monument to our worthy physician. Dr Mead was a clever person, but Dr Wood- ward had the better of him in wit : when they fought a duel under the gate of Gresham College, Woodward's foot slipped, and he fell. ' Take your life ! ' exclaimed Mead. ' Anything but your physic,^ replied Woodward. The quarrel arose from a difference of opinion on medical subjects. LINDLEY MURRAY. As many spoke of Robin Hood who never shot with his bow, so many hear of Lindley Murray who know nothing of him but that he composed a book of English grammar. He was an American — native of Pennsylvania — and realized a competency at New York, partly as a barrister and partly as a merchant. The neces- sities of health obliged him to remove to England, where he spent the last forty years of his pro- tracted life at Holdgate, near York, a feeble invalid, but resigned and happy. Besides his well-known Grammar, he wrote a book on The Power of Religion on the Mind. He was a man of mild and temperate nature, entirely beloved by all connected with him. In a series of auto- biographical letters, he gives a statement as to the moderation of his desires, well worthy of being brought under general notice. ' My views and wishes with regard to property were, in every period of my life, contained within a very moderate compass. I was early persuaded that, though " a competence is vital to content," I ought not to annex to that term the idea of much property. I determined that when I should acquire enough to enable me to maintain and provide for my family in a respect- able and moderate manner, and this according to real and rational, not imaginary and fantastic wants, and a little to share for the necessities of others, I would decline the pursuits of property, and devote a great part of my time, in some way DR KANE. FEBEUARY 16. CASTI AND THE GIULI TEE. or other, to the benefit of my fellow-creatuves, within the sphere of my abilities to serve them. I perceived that the desire of great possessions generally expands with the gradual acquisition and full attainment of them ; and I imagined that charity and a generous application do not suffi- ciently correspond with the increase of property. I thought, too, that procuring great wealth has a tendency to produce an elated independence of mind, little connected with that humility which is the ground of all our virtues ; that a busy and anxious pursuit of it often excludes views and reflections of infinite importance, and leaves but little time to acquire that treasure which would make us rich indeed ... I was persuaded that a truly sincere mind could be at no loss to dis- cern the just limits between a safe and com- petent portion and a dangerous profusion of the good things of life. These views of the subject I reduced to practice ; and terminated my mer- cantile concerns when I had acquired a moderate competency.' DR K.VNE. There are not many American names that have made a more purely satisfactory impression on European minds than that of Elisha Kent Kane. Born in 1822, and educated as a surgeon, he spent all his youthful years in adventurous explo- rations, first in the Philippine Islands, after- wards in India, then in Africa : he next took a bold and prominent part in the war which his countrymen waged against Mexico ; finally, he accompanied the expedition which American generosity (chiefly represented by Mr Grinnell) sent in search of Sir John Franklin. All this was over, and Kane had become the historian of the expedition, before he had passed thirty. Another Arctic exploration being determined on, Kane was appointed as its commander, and started on his voyage in May 1853. With indefatigable perseverance he carried his vessel, the Advance, into Smith's Sound, to a point at latitude 78° 43' jNT., where the thermometer in February was so low as 70° minus Fahrenheit. Fui'ther progress in the vessel being impossible, Kane took to a boat, and made further explorations of a most remarkable kind, finally discovering an iceless sea north of 80° jS". The sufi^erings of the whole party in these movements were extreme ; but they became insigniflcant in comparison with those of a return which was necessitated in open boats to the most northerly Danish Greenland settlement, and which occupied eighty-four days. Immense credit was due to Kane for the skiU and energy which enabled him to bring back his people with scarcely diminished numbers through such unheard-of difficulties and perils. The able and highly illustrated book, in which he subse- quently detailed this heroic enterprise, and described the new regions he had explored, must remain an enduring monument to his memory. It is alleged that, after all he had suficred, his constitution was not seriously injured. Yet the melancholy fact is that this extraordinary man sunk into the grave the year after his book was published. CASTI AND THE GITJLI TRE. February 16, 1803, died, at above eighty years of age, the Itahan poet, Giovau Batista Casti, known chiefly by his clever comic poem the Animali Parlanti, which our i\Ir Stewart Rose has partially translated under the name of the Court of Beasts. He was in early life a priest at Montefiascone, in the States of the Church, but afterwards became the proter/6 in succes- sion of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the Emperor of Germany (Joseph II.), and was only recognised as a gay and free-thoughted coiut poet. He spent his latter years in ease at Paris. He was generally known as the Abate Casti, in reference to his early connexion with the Church, though towards the close of his life he dropped the title, and was desirous that it shoidd be forgotten. Casti displayed the remarkable ingenuity and re- soiuces of his muid in a poetical work which stands quite Tinique in point of subject in the hterature of all nations. It appeared in 1762 (being his first work, though pubhshed when he was upwards of forty) under the title of the T^re GiuU, and consisted of two hundred sonnets descriptive of the troubles which the author was pleased to represent himself as having incurred in consequence of borro-^dng thi-ee giuli which he was never able to repay. A giidio (.Juhus), worth about a gi-oat Eughsh, is a smafl sdver coin fLfst struck by JuHus II. and caUed after him. Captain Montagu Montagu published a translation of this remarkable book in 1826, and a second edition in 1841. Mr Leigh Hunt, in the Liberal, published in 1822, had drawn the attention of Enghsh readers to the poem, and given an English version of several of the sonnets. It coidd hardly be that j\Ir Hunt should fail to be struck -nith the hmnour and grace of Casti, and indeed the Tre Giuli seems to have made upon him an extraordinary impression. 'The fertility of fancy and learned aUusion,' he writes, 'with which the author has wiltten his 200 sonnets on a man's coming to liim every day and asking him for Tre Giuh is inferior only to what Butler or Man^ell might have made of it. The very recurrence of the words becomes a good joke. Let statesmen say what they will of "the principle of reiteration," the principles of imagination and con- tinuation are the intense things in this our mortal state : as the perpetual accompaniment and exaggei-a- tion of one image is the worst thing in soitow, so it is the merriest thuig in a fiiece of wit.' ' The Giuh Tre are henceforth among om' standing jokes — among our lares and penates of pleasantry.' 'Nobody that we have met with in Italy could resist the mention of them. The priest did not pretend it. The ladies were glad they could find something to approve in a poet of so erroneous a reputation. The man of the world laughed as merrily as he coidd. The patriot was hajjpy to relax his mustachios. Even the book- seller of whom we bought them laughed with a real laugh, evidently not the mercenary and meretricious gi'in mth which, he laughs at the customer instead of the book, when he has the luck to get rid of some heavy facetiosity by a chance sale — not "the bought smile — Loveless, joyless, imendeared, Casual fruition.'" It should be mentioned, however, that one great source of drollery in the original is lost in. the trans- lation. It has been elegantly said that work of this kind is like poming a perfume from one vessel into another, which, if it be ever so carefuUy done, must rcsidt in a certaia loss of fragrance by evapora- tion in the transfusion. But, in adcbtion to this, the Tre Giuli is wiltten in a style which is without an English equivalent; liaversitroncld, ortrtmcated verses, have the final word in every fine accented on the last 208 CASTI AXD THE GIULI TRE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CASTI AND THE GIULI THE. svllablo, whioh has au cttect cxtromoly ludicrous in Italian. The stylo of verse is only oinployea in bur- lesque or Imiuoi-ous subjects; it is mook-horoie, and possesses, to ltali:ui ears, a drollery in sound quite apart from, ami in adilitiou to, the humour of the sense of the verse. The Tre Oiiili is a kind of small-debts epic. It is in i)oetry M-hat rai;anini's fantasia on one striug was in music. It is a literary tour df force. The ' pay me ' of the creditor lluysophilus comes beating through the verse in all sorts of places, just as the injunction 'Forward' tolls incessantly throughout the story of the Wandering Jew. A poem essentially of one "idea is j-et made to possess the most inlinite variety ; the story is without beginning, or middle, or end, and yet is full of interest. We know what is coming, and are constantly expecting it, and yet we are somehow surprised when it does come. The insatiable dun never appears at quite the time or place at which we had been looking for him. Just as the legerdemainist twists a sheet of paper into all manner of forms, or makes a piece of money shew itself to us in all sorts of places, so does the idea of this poem change and t\\ist, and appear and disappear. The Tre Giidi are now a lump of metal in our hands. Kow they are hammered out into a tissue sheet that seems to cover the whole globe. And as in all the superior kinds of burlesque there is a touch of seriousness and real feeling — for truth and uatm-e enhance even travestie — so in the Tre Giidi, in spite of the triviality and humorousness of the subject, our interest and sympathies are excited in an extraordinary degree by the earnestness and persistence, almost the pathos of the narrator. His agony seems now and then so real, that we are tempted to forget how ridiculous is the cause of it. He so impresses us vdt\\ his want of three groats, that we feel for him quite as much as though he were crj'ing for three kingdoms. His need for so small a matter is so m-gent, that both become endowed Avith colossal proportions, and the farcical subject hy its serious treatment becomes lifted up to tragic import- ance. As in a kaleidoscope the slightest turn of the tube gives the same pieces of glass quite a different character, owing to theii- new combination, so does this one want of Tre Giidi shift itself in the poet's hands into an endless variety of presentments. Now he defies his creditor, now he cajoles him, now point l)lank he refuses to pay him, now he puts him off with promises, he sues to him, he abuses him, ex- postrdates, insults, entreats, flatters, runs from him. The debt is now near, now far; it will be settled immediately, to-mon-ow, the day after — now never — not till doomsday — not even then ; it is now large, now small, now laughably trivial, now of a fearfid importance. The poet steejis his three coins in verse, and they come out endowed with the attributes of faiiy money, and we can conceive their being capable of anything, and its being possible to do anj-thing with them. Let others, says Casti in an early sonnet, celebrate the deeds and wars of Eniias, the feats of kings, battles, love, beaut}-. 'This,' (to quote Captain Montagu's translation) : ' Tlris is the subject matter of my lay : Chrysophilus, one time, three groats me lent, And for them asked me a hundred times a daj'. He kept on asking, and 1 would not j)ay, And this importunate dun 'tis my intent Herein in various fashion to display. ' And so on, reiterating in the third sonnet : ' Hence, dreams or fables, hence ! whoever quotes : Meanwhile the Muse relates in artless tone The genuine story of the triple groats.' 264 Or to take Mr Leigh Hunt's rendering of the lines : ' Ye dreams and failles keep aloof, I pray : While thus my Muse keeps spinning as she goes The genuine history of the Uiidi Tre.' The poet states that, just as the beating of a steel upon a Hint jn-oduces a stream of sparks, so the rejieated entreaties of his creditor, beating upon his breast, have awoke the dormant seeds of song, and compelled him to make the three groats the theme of his lyre, while he hopes that at least the charm of novelty may attach to his efforts. His dun, he vows, has no right to Avonder that to all his aj)plications for the amount of the loan he receives the same imvarying answer ; for, he argues ingeniously : ' As one, who constantly shall sound A flat Upon the hautboy or the organ, may Exjject the instrument to utter Avhat Will be the note that answers to flat A j Thus every time my creditor this way One similar question makes me undergo, He hears one similar tone in answering notes ; Yet still I don't repay him his three groats ; And shoidd he ask me a hmidred times a day, He'd hear a hundred times the selfsame "No."' He next proceeds rather to insult and defj^ his creditor, deprecates all charity from him, vows he may go hang himself, but still he won't get back his money ! Yet, after this burst of corn-age antl conlitlence, he sinks into a very complaining mood. ' ' Those triple gi-oats still haunt my mind, and balk ]My heart continually of joy and rest. His hateful likeness, who has ever been The troubler of my peace and evil star. Is always in my eyes.' The shadow of the relentless dim haunts him worse than Asmodeus. Any one in search of Chrysophilus is bid to look for his debtor ; it is simply impossible that the creditor can be far from huii. Now he contemplates traveUiug to the moon, and covets 'a residence aloft.' ' Yet shoidd I fear that travelling through the air Thou'dst come one day to find me out up there ! ' ' I nothing doubt That, should he chance to learn my hiding-place, In Calicut or China tho' I were, He'd straight post horses take and find me out ! ' More calmly, then, he reflects that Chrysophilus must be drawn to him by the power of gravitation, 'or by centripetal cohesion's laws,' or a natiu'al atiinity, or by attraction. Next he asks why he may not, like Orestes, be at last in a measure forgiven by the Fates. Suddenly, as he is about to quit the town secretly, his creditor appears behind him, oifering to accompany him upon his journey. Chrysophilus himself is one day seen booted, spurred, and horsed, — he is going a journey. The poet does not wish him harm ; but oh ! if he should be taken prisoner by the Turks, or made Grand Vizier or Mufti, and never come back ! Never ! Let him have a prosperous voyage, and, that completed, may there be a perpetual hm-ricane to prevent him ever retiuniing. His creditor gone, he experienced all the feelings of a city long invested, and the siege raised at last. His joy is boimdless, but there comes a letter by the post. Chrysophilus, the relentless, writes : ' Get me the three groats ready, — do not miss,— As soon as possible, for I shall be By Simday or Monday at latest, unremiss, On horse or foot — dead or alive — with thee !' He finds the letter like one of those papers im- pregnated with arsenic — 'Whoever reads, or even opens, dies.' CASTI AND THE GIULI TEE. FEBEUAEY 16. CASTI AND THE GIULI Tllli. He compares himself to a truant schoolboy suddenly caught by his preceptor ; to king Priam finding tlie Greek horse open, and the enemy iu Troy. He becomes a moral teacher. 'Ah ! never run iu debt,' he saj's ; then ju-udeutly quahfies liis precept : ' But to your sorrow, If so compelled, take care that tirst ye see What uatured mau he is from whom ye borrow. ' He complains that, whereas he was wont to be stoically indifferent to all misfortune, he is now made miserable by this contemptible debt— just as a lion that has conquered panthers and tigers finds it agouy to endure the sting of a gadfly. His debt is an evil, but his creditor is a greater one ; he condemns the latter, not the former so much. The application and the refusal have now got to be matters of rote, per- formed without volition. The creditor comes with a parrot-cry for liis money. The delator answers with a parrot-ciy that he has not got it, and derides the creditor for being, after all, merely a ' dunning auto- maton.' ' The whispering breeze, that speaks in softest breath, The verdant hill, the cool, umbrageous vale. The bird that spreads his piuious to the gale. The brook that jets v.'iih. bounding leap beneath, And makes sweet music in its noisy fall, — The dance and song of laughter-lo%'ing youth At times, oh Dim ! with calm delights these soothe My mind, till thou comest back to chase them all.' Leigh Himt has happily rendered the 35th sonnet — ' Xo : none are happy in this best of spheres. IjO ! when a child we tremlile at a look ; Our freshest age is withered o'er a book ; The fine arts bite us, and great characters. Then we go boiling -ndth our youthfid peers, In love and hate ; in riot and rebuke ; By hook misfortune has its, or by crook. And gi-iefs and gouts come thickeuing with our j^ears. In fine, we've debts ; and, when we've debts, no ray Of hope remains to warm us to repose. Thus has my own life passed from day to day ; And now, by way of climax, though not close, The fatal debit of the Giidi Tre Fills up the solemn measure of my woes.' Heartily the poet wishes he were a child again, — to know nothing of duns and debts ; or a bird, that he might fly ofi', out of the reach of his creditor ; or that, like Gyges, he had a ring that could render him in- visible at pleasure. He next congratulates himself that he is unmarried and childless, dreading that if he had childi-en they would be of little comfort to him, for they would certainly grow uj) to resemlile his creditor, and would dun accordingly. Then he entreats the dun not to forget that, after all, dunning is of Uttle use ; it cannot fill the ci'editor's purse. He expresses his regret that there is not, as amongst the Jews, a custom of periodically extinguishing debt, which he denounces as a ' heartache of the keenest kind. To which no other pain can be compared ; An inward rack that night and day doth grind.' All pleasures now pall upon him ; liis liability haunts his imagination everywhere ; he is dunned by the echo of his own voice ; compares his debt to per- petual motion ; implores oblivion to set his cares at rest ; condemns sleep because it augments his ills, by giving him dreams — for he ch-eams of his debt, ju.st as a sailor dreams of storms ; sighs for a keg of Lethe ; laments the gootl times, when duns, and writs, and bailiffs were not ; contemplates the agony the thought of his debt will be to liim in his old age, and believes that his dun gets ^vind of him a mile off or mrire ! Next he reflects that his de))t is not really much in itself, but is made to appear considerable by the insufferable importunity of his dun, just as a slight pimple, from being scratched and irritated, becomes a serious sore. He begins to suspect that the climate in which he lives in some way produces hard creditors, just as ' diversities of clime ' resulted in the luxurioiLS- uess of the Persian and the Assyrian, the savageness of the Thracian, the mendacity of the Greeks, the courage of the Romans. He buys a ticket in a lottery, as a means of paying his debt, but he draws a blank. He suspects the Evil One of infoi-ming the dun as to the whereabouts of the debtor. Now he is declaring that the dun must Ije ubiquitous ; now that he is as fright- ful to him as the hangman to the condemned felon ; he ca,n cure liimseK, he says, of all disease but that of debt ; thinks that money and blood have some extraordinary affinity, and that, as there are times when, according to Galen and Hippocrates, patients shoidd not Ije bled, so on certain daj's defjtors should not be asked for money. In allusion to the story of words frozen at the pole, the poet holds that if he were there with his creditor, and a thaw were to occiir, the only words they woidd hear woidd be a cry for the Three Groats. ' The devious comet that on high careers With sanguine splendour girt, athwart the night, Ne'er gave the bigot crowd so much affright. From dread of war — plague — famine — when it nears. As oft it makes me palpitate with fears ; When unexpectedly upon my sight The Dun, whose presence is to me the plight And harbinger of f utm'e iU, appears. ' For the return of the comets may be calculated, but none can be sure of the advent of the creditor. Now and then Chrysophilus is very pleasant iu manner ; puts questions upon, and discusses, all sorts of iu- difterent topics — then suddenly asks for his money. ' Thus sometimes plajdng -with a mouse, ere nip. The cat ^viIl on her helpless victim smile. Until, at length, she gives the fatal grip. ' The poet now arrives at the conclusion that Pla- tonic love must be about as difficult a thing as the payment of his debt. Next he wishes he had found the philosopher's stone, so as to be able to pay his debt. ' To get the triple groats' tnie ore, I'd study chjTnic properties — which found, I'd break the pot, nor think about them more.' He imagines there were no duns in Mahomet's time, as he has left no instruction iu the Koran as to the cursing of duns. He declares that his language should be called the Tongue of no. Wishes his creditor had king Midas 's gold- transmuting attriliute, and then he might perhaps give up his claim for the three groats. The quadrature of the circle may be dis- covered, he says, but never any money in his pockets. He sighs for Cicero's eloquence, who paid his credi- tors with words, not money. Accompanying a lover of the antique to exphn-e the statues of the Campi- doglio, he recognises in one of the figures a resem- blance to his duu — ' Wliich -^^-ith an inward terror did me strike ; Then like a thief, that flies the sheriff's men, Down stairs I ran as quick as I coidd tread it. And while I live FU ne'er go there again.' Further on we gather particulars of the loan — ' This is tlie fatal spot, sir ! where one day (Jhrysopliilus lent three groats — 'twas there He drew his purse, and opening it ^vith care, Told out the money, Avarning to repay. 265 MOLIEKE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. M. GALLAND. It M^a'u't a step beyt>iul the place oi' ere lie 'gan already aslviiig me to pa}', And from tliat time tormenting me this Vt'iiy, The stingy dun has followed everywhere. The spot is baleful, sir, and wo luust purge "With logs of -N^-ood hewn by tlie moon's cold rays, Now make a magic lire, and round its verge Keep turning barefoot — twice and thrice then cry, (With lustral water sprinkling o'er the blaze, ) " Get out of this ; hence, evil spirit, fly ! " ' He laments the primeval age when mine and thine were synonymous ; when a community of goods pre- vailed, and money was undiscovered. His debt has jaundiced his whole life. Wont to find pleasm-e in contemplating ' the golden hair, neat foot, and lovely face, ' of his Nisa, the charm is lost to him now. He gazes into her beauteous countenance, but by the strangest metamorphosis he finds it suddenly change liis IVisa becomes his Chrysoplulus. In the 200th sonnet we find Apollo rebirking the poet for wasting his time on such a trivial subject. The poet ceases" iu obedience to his divine protector, not because he has nothing more to say about his debt — not because he has paid it. He bids good night for ever to his dim and the three groats. The'curtain that rose discovering the poet a debtor, appears to descend leaving him in the same plight. Certainly, Chryso- philus never got his money. It may fm-ther be noted, as of interest in the history of Casti, that among his dramatic compositions for the court opera at Vienna, was II Be Teodoro in Venezia, which, owing chiefly perhaps to the music of PaiscUo, had a great success on the Continent at the time of its production. Another work. La Grotto di Trofonio, was produced, with alterations, at Drury Lane, in 1791. It was Casti, too, who versified the Firfaro of Beaumarchais, for the music of Mozart, iu 1786. FEBEUARY 17. Saints Theodulus and Julian, martyrs in Palestine, 309. St Flavian, archbishop of Constantinople, martyr in Lydia, 449. St Loman, or Luman, first bishop of Trim, 5th century. St Fintan, abbot in Leinster, 6th century. St Silvin, of Auchy, bishop, 718. Born. — Francis Duke of Guise, French warrior, 1519; Horace Benedict de Saussure, Genevese traveller, 1740; John Pinkerton, historian and antiquary, 1 ~b9s.,Edlnhirfjh. Died. — Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter, sculptor, architect, and engineer, 1563-4; Giordano Bruno, Neapo- litan philosopher, burnt at Rome, 1600 ; Jean Baptiste Poquclin Moliere, 1673, Paris; Antoine Galland, trans- lator of the Arabian JVijhts' Entertainments, 1715; John Martin, historical painter, 1854 ; John Braham, singer and composer, 1856, London. MOLIERE. Prance, having Moliere for one of her sons, may be said to have given birth to the greatest purely comic writer of modern times. Born the son of a humble valet-de-chambre and tapissier in Pans, in 1620, this singular genius pressed through all the trammels and difficulties of his situation, to education and the exercise of that dramatic art n which he was to attain such excellence. The theatre was new in the French capital, and he at once raised it to glory. His Elourdi, his Pre- cieuses liidlcules, his Mentenr, his Tariuffe,* his Feinmes Savaides, what a brilliant series they con- stitute ! The list is closed by the Malade tmagi- naire, which came before the world when the poor author was sick in earnest ; dying indeed of a chest complaint, accompanied by spitting of blood. On the third night of the representation, he was advised not to play ; but he resolved to malce the efl'ort, and it cost him his life. He Avas carried home dying to his house in the Eue llichelieu, and there soon breathed his last, choked with a gush of blood, in the arms of two stranger priests who happened to lodge in the same house. It was maliciously reported by prejudiced people that Moliere had expired when in the act of counterfeiting death in his role on the stage, and this made it the more difficult to obtain for him the Christian burial usually denied to players. His widow flew to the king, exclaim- ing against the priesthood, but was glad to make very humble representations to the Archbishop of Paris, and to stretch a poiat regarding Moliere's wish for religious consolations, in order to have the remains of her husband treated decently. On its being shewn that he had received the sacrament at the preceding Easter, the archbishop was pleased to permit that this glory of France should be inhumed without any pomp, with two priests only, and with no church solemnities. The Revolutionists, more just, transferred the remains of the great comedian from the little chapel where they were first deposited to the Museum of French Monu- ments. M. GALLAND. The English people, who for generations have enjoyed that most attractive book, the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, know in general very little of its origin. The western world received it from the hands of a French savant of the seventeenth century, who obtained it in its original form during a residence in the East. * ' The history of Tartuffe is a curious example of the impediments so frequently thrown in the way of genius. The whole of the play was not publicly performed until after a severe struggle with the bigots of Paris, the first three acts only having been produced at Versailles on the 12th of May 1664, but not the complete play until 1669. It took five years to convince the religiouslj'-siffected that an attack on the immoral pretender to religious fervour was not an attack on religion. It may easily be supposed that a character so symbolical of cant and duplicity, under whatever creed it might choose to cloak itself, would soon be transferred to other countries, and conse- quently we find it transplanted to our own theatre as early as 1670, by a comedian of the name of Medbourne, a Roman Catholic, who in his adaptation chose to make the Tariuffe a French Huguenot, thereby gratifying his own religious prejudices, and more closely satirizing the English puritan of the time. Ozell, a dramatic writer, known only to literary antiquaries and the readers of the Limciad, also translated it, with the rest of Moliere's dra- matic works; but the chief introducer and adapter of this celebrated play to the English stage was Colley Cibber, who, iu 1718, under the name of tlie Non-Juror, pro- duced and wrote the principal part of what is now known as The Hypocrite, Isaac Bickerstaffe doing little more than adding the coarse character of Maimoorm for Weston, the chief low comedian of his time.' — Arionymous. xM. GALLAND. FEBEUAEY 17. ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. Antoine Galland, born of poor parents in 1646, shewed such talents in early life that he not only obtained a finished education, but received an appointment as attache to the French embassy at Constantinople while still a young man. He devoted himself to Oriental travel, the collection of Oriental literature, and the study of Eastern authors. His learning was as prodigious in amount as its subjects were for that age extra- ordinary ; but of all his laborious works little memory survives, while his light task of trans- lating the Mille et Tine Nuits has ensured him a kind of immortality. In the first editions of this work, the trans- lator preserved the whole of the repetitions re- specting Schecherezade and her vigilant sister ; which the quick-witted French found insufferably tedious. It was resolved by some young men that they would try to make Galland feel how stupid were these endless wakenings. Coming in the middle of a cold January night to his house in the Faubourg St Jacques, they began to cry vehemently for M. Galland. He speedily appeared upon the balcony, dressed only in his rolie tie chamhre and night-cap, and in great anger at this inopportune disturbance. ' Have I the honour,' said one of the youths, 'to speak to Monsieur GaUand — the celebrated Monsieur Galland — the learned translator of the Mille et Une Nuits V 'I am he, at your service, gentle- men,' cried the savant, shivering from top to toe. ' Ah then, Monsieur Galland, if you are not asleep, I pray you, while the day is about to break, that you will tell us one of those pleasant stories which you so well know.' The hint was taken, and the tiresome formula of the wakening of the sultaness was suppressed in all but the first few nuits. DE SAUSSURE's ascent OF MONT BLANC. M. de Saussui-e was a Geneva professor, who distinguished himself in the latter part of the eighteenth century by his researches in the na- tural history of the Alps. His investigations were embodied in a laborious work, entitled Voyacfc dans les Alpes, which yet bears an honoured place in European libraries. Previous to De Saussure's time, there had been scarcely any such bold idea entertained as that the summit of Mont Blanc could be reached by human foot. Under his prompting, a few guides made the attempt on three several occasions, but without success. The great difficulty lay in the necessity of under- going the whole exertion required within the time between two indulgences in repose, for there was no place where, in ascending or de- scending, the shelter necessary for sleep could be obtained. The case might well appear the more hopeless, when the extraordinary courage and powers of exertion and endurance that belong to the Alpine guides were considered : if they generally regarded the enterprise as impossible, who might attempt it ? Nevertheless, a new and favourable route DE SAUSSUKK ASCENDING MONT BLANC. 2G7 ASCEXT OF 3I0XT BLAXC. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MYSTIC MEMORY. haring been discovorod. and a hut for slieUer during an intermediate night having been pre- pared. M. de Saussure attempted an ascent in September 1785. Having spent a night at the hut. tlie party set out next niorning with great coutidenee to ascend the renniiuiug thousaiul toiscs aknig the ridge caUed the Aiguille du Goute ; and they had advanced a considerable ■way -when the depth of the fresh-fallen snow proved an insurmountable barrier. A second attempt was made by De Saussure in June 178(3 ; and, though it failed, it led to tlie discoveiy, by a guide named Jacques Balmat, of a preferable route, which proved to be the only one at all practicable. Unfortunately, De Saussure, who. from his persevering etlbrts, deserved to be the Conqueror of Mont Blanc, was anticipated in the honour by a gentle- man named Paecard, to whom Balmat imparted his secret, and who. under Balmat's guidance, gained the summit of the mountain in August of the last-named year. It was not till August 1787, and after a second successful attempt by Balmat, in company with two other guides, that De Saussure "finally accomplished his object. On this occasion, he had a tent carried, in which he might take a night's rest at whatever place should prove suit- able ; and all his other preparations were of the most careful kind. The accompanying illustra- tion, which is from his own work, exhibits the persevering philosopher calmly ascending along the icy track, with his cortege of guides, and certain men carrying his tent, his scientific in- struments, and other articles. It will be observed that the modern expedient of tying the members of the party together had not then been adopted ; but some of them held by each other's alpen- stocks, as is still the fashion. De Saussure spent the first night on the top of a comparatively small mountain called the Cote, near Chamouni ; the second was passed in an excavation in the snow on what was called the second plateau, with the tent for a covering. On the third day, the party set out at an early hour, undauntedly climbing a snow or ice slope at an angle of thirty-nine degrees, and at eleven o'clock gained the summit, after suffering incredible incon- venience from the heat and the rarity of the air. To give an idea of the latter difficulty, it is only necessary to mention that De Saussure, by his barometer, found the column of the atmosphere above him represented by sixteen inches and one line. ' JMy first looks,' says he, ' were directed on Chamouni, where I knew my wife and her two sisters were, their eyes fixed to a telescope, follow- ing all our steps with an uneasiness too great, without doubt, but not less distressing to them. I felt a very pleasing and consoling sentiment when I saw the flag which they had promised to hoist the moment they observed me at the summit, when their apprehensions would be at least suspended.' All Europe rang Avith the news of De Saus- sure's ascent of Mont Blanc and his observations on the mountain ; and it was long before he found many followers. jN^ow scarcely a season passes but some enterprising Englishman per- forms this once almost fabulous feat. 268 JOHN BKAHA^r. It is hardly conceivable that this famous vocalist died so recently as 185G, for one occasionally meets with his figure in favourite characters as the frontispiece of plays dating in the eighteenth century. There is scarcely anybody so old as to rennunber when Braham was a new figure on the stage. In reality, he did appear there so long ago as 1785, when, however, he was only eleven years of age. He was of Hebrew paren- tage, was a wortiij' and respected man, and joined to" the wonderful powers of his voice a very fair gift of musical composition. The large gains he made in his own proper walk he lost, as so many have done, by going out of it into another — that of a theatre-proprietor. But his latter days were passed in comfort, tinder the fostering care of his daughter, the Countess Waldegrave. MYSTIC INIEMORY. In February 1828, Sir Walter Scott was breaking himself down by over-hard literary work, and had really fallen to some extent out ot health. On the 17th he enters in his Diary, that, on the preceding day at dinner, although in com- pany with two or three beloved old friends, he was sti-angely haunted by what he would call ' the sense of pre-existence ;' namely, a confused idea that nothing that passed was said for the first time — that the same topics had been dis- cussed, and the same persons had stated the same opinions on them. The sensation, he adds, | was so strong as to resemble what is called a mirage in the desert, or a calenture on board of ship, when lakes are seen in the desert, and sylvan landscapes in the sea. . . . There was a vile sense of want of reality in all that I did and said.' This experience of Scott is one which has often been felt, and often commented on by authors,^ by Scott himself amongst others. In his novel of Guy Mannering, he represents his hero Bertram as returning to what was, unknown to him, his native castle, after an absence from childhood, and thus musing on his sensations: 'Why is it that some scenes awaken thoughts which belong, as it were, to dreams of early and shadowy recol- lection, such as my old Brahmin JMoonshie would have ascribed to a state of previous existence ? How often do we find ourselves in society which we have never before met, and yet feel impressed with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness that neither the scene, the speakers, nor the subject are entirely new ; nay, feel as if we could anticipate that part of the conversation which has not yet taken place.' Warren and Bulwer Lytton make similar remarks in their novels, and Tennyson adverts to the sensation in a beautiful sonnet : 'As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood, And ebb into a former life, or seem To lap.se far back in a confused dream To states of mystical similitude ; If one but speaks, or hems, or stirs his chair, Ever the wonder waxeth more and more. So that we say, AH this hath been before. All this hath been, I know not when or where ; So, friend, when first I looked upon your face, Our thoughts gave answer each to each, so true MYSTIC MEMOEY. FEBEUAEY 17. MYSTIC MEMORY. Opposed miiTors each reflecting each — Although I knew not in what time or place, Jlcthought that I had often met with you, And each had lived in the other's miud and speech.' Theological writers have taken up tliis strange state of feeling as an evidence that our mental part has actually had an existence before our present bodily life, souls being, so to speak, ci-eated from the beginning, and attached to bodies at the moment of mortal birth. Glanvil and Henry More wrote to ^is efiect in the seven- teenth century ; and in 1762, the Eev Capel Berrow published a work entitled A Pre-existent Lapse of Human Souls demonstrated. More recentl)', we find Southey declaring : ' I have a strong and lively faith in a state of continued consciousness from this stage of existence, and that we shall recover the consciousness of some lower stages tlirougli which tue maij previously have passed seems to me not improbable.' Words- Avorth, too, founds on this notion in that fine poem where he says — ' Oiir bu-th is but a sleep and a forgetting ; The soul that rises in us, our life's star, Has liad elsewhere its setting. And cometh from afar. ' With all respect for the doctrine of a previous existence, it nppears to us that the sensation in question is no sort of proof of it ; for it is clearly absurd to suppose that four or five people Mho had once lived before, and been acquainted with each other, had by chance got together again, and in precisely the same circumstances as on the former occasion. The notion, indeed, cannot for a moment be seriously maintained. AYe must leave it aside, as a mere poetical whimsy. In a curious book, published in 18i4 by Dr Wigan, under the title of The Duality of the Mind, an attempt is made to account for the phenomenon in a difi'erent way. Dr AYigan was of opinion that the two hemispheres of the brain had each its distinct power and action, and that each often acts singly. Before adverting to this theory of the illusion in question, let us hear a remarkably well described case which he brings forward as part of his own experience : ' The strongest example of this delusion I ever recollect in my own person was on the occasion of the funeral of the Princess Charlotte. The circumstances connected with that event formed in every respect a most extraordinary psycholo- gical curiosity, and afforded an instructive view of the moral feelings pervading a whole nation, and shewing themselves without restraint or dis- guise. There is, perhaps, no example in history of so intense and so universal a sympathy, for almost every conceivable misfortune to one party is a source of joy, satisfaction, or advantage to another. . . . One mighty all-absorbing grief possessed the nation, aggravated in each indi- vidual by the sympathy of his neighbour, till the whole people became infected with an amiable insanity, and incapable of estimating the real ex- tent of their loss. ISo one under five-and-thirty or forty years of age can form a conception of the universal paroxysm of grief which then superseded every other feeling. ' I had obtained permission to be present on the occasion of the funeral, as one of the lord chamberlain's staff. Several disturbed nights previous to that ceremony, and tlie almost to tal privation of rest on the night immediately pre- ceding it, had put my mind into a state of hys- terical irritability, which was still further increased by grief and by exhaustion from want of food ; for between breakfast and the hour of interment at midnight, such was the confusion in the town of Windsor, that no expenditure of money could procure refreshment. ' I had been standing four hours, and on taking my place by the side of the coffin, in St George's chapel, was only prevented from fainting by the interest of the scene. All that our truncated ceremonies could bestow of pomp was there, and the exquisite music produced a sort of hallu- cination. Suddenly after the pathetic Miserere of Mozart, the music ceased, and there was an absolute silence. The coflin, placed on a kind of altar covered with black cloth (united to the black cloth which covered the pavement), sank down so slowly through the floor, that it was only in measuring its progress by some brilliant object beyond it that any motion could be perceived. I had fallen into a sort of torpid reverie, when I was recalled to consciousness by a paroxysm of violent grief on the part of the bereaved husband, as his eye suddenly caught the coffin sinking into its black grave, formed by the inverted covering of the altar. In an instant I felt not merely an impression, but a convictioii that I had seen the whole scene before on some former occasion, and had heard even the very words addressed to myself by Sir George I^ ay lor.' I)r Wigan thinks he finds a sufficient explana- tion of this state of mind in the theory of a double brain. ' The persuasion of the same being a repetition,' says he, ' comes on when the attention has been roused by some accidental circumstance, and we become, as the phrase is, wide awake. I believe the explanation to be this : only one brain has been used in the immediately preceding part of the scene : the other brain has been asleep, or in an analogous state nearly approaching it. When the attention of both brains is roused to the topic, there is the same vague consciousness that the ideas have passed through the mind before, which takes place on re-perusing the page we had read while thinking on some other subject. The ideas have passed through the brain before : and as there was not sufficient consciousness to fix them in the memory without a renewal, we have no means of knowing the length of time that had elapsed between the faint impression received by the single brain, and the distinct impression received by the double brain. It may seem to have been many years.' It is a plausible idea ; but we have no proof that a single hemisphere of the brain has this distinct action ; the analogy of the eyes is against it, for there we never fiud one eye con- scious or active, and the other not. Moreover, this theory docs not, as will be seen, explain all the facts ; and hence, if for no other reason, it must be set aside. The latest theory on the subject is one started by a person giving the signature ' F' in the Notes and Queries (February 14, 1857). This person 269 MYSTIC MEirOKY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MYSTIC MEMOEY. thinks tliat tlio cases on record are not to be ex- plained otherwise than as cases of fore-kuowledi;e. • Tluit under certain conditions,' says he, 'the human mind is capaliki of foreseeing the future, more or h>ss distinctly, is hardly to be questioned. May -vvo not suppose that, in dreams or waking reveries, v,c sometimes anticipate what will befall us, and that this impression, forgotten in the interviil, is revived by the actual occurrence of the event foreseen?' He goes on to remark that in the Confessions of Eousseau there is a remark- able passage which appears to support this theory. This singular man, in his youth, taking a solitary walk, fell into a reverie, in which he clearly foresaw ' the happiest day^ of his life,' Avhich occurred seven or eight years afterwards. 'I saw myself,' says Jean Jacques, ' as in an ecstasy, transported into that happy time and occasion, where my heart, possessing all the happiness possible, enjoyed it with inexpressible raptures, without thinking of anything sensual. I do not remember being ever thrown into the future with more force, or of an illusion so complete as I then experienced ; and that which has struck me most in the recollection of that reverie, now that it has been realized, is to have found objects so exactly as I had imagined them. If ever a dream of man awake had the air of a prophetic vision, that was assuredly such.' Kousseau tells how his reverie was realized at a fete cham^etre, in the company of Madame de Warens, at a place which he had not previously seen. ' The condition of mind in which I found myself, all that we said and did that day, all the objects which struck me, recalled to me a kind of dream which 1 had at Annecy seven or eight years before, and of which I have given an account in its place. The relations were so striking, that in thinking of them I could not refrain from tears.' ' F ' remarks that ' if llousseau, on the second of these occasions, had forgotten the previous one, save a faint remembrance of the ideas which he then conceived, it is evident that this would h^ve been a case of the kind under consideration.' Mr Elihu Eich, another correspondent of the useful little periodical above quoted, and who has more than once or twice experienced 'the mysterious sense of having been surrounded at some previous time by precisely the same cir- cumstances, and taken a share in the same con- versation,' favours this theory of explanation, and presents us with a curious illustration. ' A gen- tleman,' says he, ' of high intellectual attain- ments, now deceased, told me that he had dreamed of being in a strange city, so vividly that he remembered the streets, houses, and public buddings as distinctly as those of any place he ever visited. A few weeks afterwards he was startled by seeing the city of which he had dreamed. The likeness was perfect, except that one additional church appeared in the picture. He was so struck by the cii-cumstauce that he spoke to the exhibitor, assuming for the purpose the air of a traveller acquainted with the place. He was informed that the church was a recent erection.' To the same purport is an experience of a remarkable nature which Mr John Pavin Phillips, of Haverfordwest, relates as having occurred to 270 himself, in which a second reverie appears to have presented a renewal of a former one. ' About four years ago,' says he, ' I sufl'ered severely from derangement of the stomach, and upon one occa- sion, after passing a restless and disturbed night, I came down to breakfast in the morning, experi- encing a sense of general discomfort and uneasi- ness. I was seated at the breakfast-table with some members of my family, when suddenly the room and objects around me vanished away, and I found myself, without surprise, in the street of a foreign city. Never having been abroad, I imagined it to have been a foreign city from the peculiar character of the architecture. The street was very wide, and on either side of the roadway there was a foot pavement elevated above the street to a considerable height. The houses had pointed gables and casemeuted windows over- hanging the street. The roadway presented a gentle acclivity ; and at the end of the street there was a road crossing it at right angles, backed by a green slope, which rose to the eminence of a hill, and was crowned by more houses, over which soared a lofty tower, either of a church or some other ecclesiastical budding. As I gazed on the scene before me I was impressed with an over- whelming conviction that I had looked upon it before, and that its features were perfectly fami- liar to me ; I even seemed almost to remember the name of the place, and whilst I was making an effort to do so a crowd of people appeared to be advancing in an orderly manner up the street. As it came nearer it resolved itself into a quaint procession of persons in what we should call fancy dresses, or perhaps more like one of the guild festivals which we read of as being held in some of the old continental cities. As the procession came abreast of the spot where I was standing I mounted on the pavement to let it go by, and as it filed past me, with its banners and gay para- phernalia flashing in the sunlight, the irresistible conviction again came over me that I had seen this same procession before, and in the very street through which it was now passing. Again I almost recollected the name of the concourse and its occasion ; but whilst endeavouring to stimulate my memory to perform its function, the effort dispelled the vision, and I found myself, as before, seated at my breakfast-table, cup in hand. My exclamation of astonishment attracted the notice of one of the members of my family, Mho inquired " what I had been staring at ? " Upon my relating what I have imperfectly described, some surprise was manifested, as the vision, which appeared to me to embrace a period of considerable duration, must have been almost instantaneous. The city, with its landscape, is indelibly fixed in my memory, but the sense of previous familiarity with it has never again been renewed. The "spirit of man within him " is indeed a mystery ; and those who have witnessed the progress of a case of catalepsy cannot but have been impressed with the conviction that there are dormant faculties belonging to the human mind, which, like the rudimentary wings said to be contained within the skin of the caterpillar, are only to be developed in a higher sphere of being.' * In the same work the Ilev. Mr W. L. Nichols, * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., iii. 132. GEOEGE DUKE OF CLAEENCE. FEBEUAEY 18. FUNEEAL GAELANDS. of Bath, adduces a still more remarkable case from a memoir of Mr William Hone, who, as is well-known, was during tlie greater part of his life a disbeliever of all but physical facts. He had been worn down to a low condition of vitality by a coui'se of exertion of much the same character as that which gave Scott an experience of the mystic memory. Being called, in the course of business, to a particular part of London, with which he was unacquainted, he liad noticed to himself, as he walked along, that he had never been there before. ' I was shewn,' he says, ' into a room to wait. On look- ing round, everything appeared perfectly fami- liar to me ; I seemed to recognise every object. I said to myself, " What is this ? I was never here before, and yet I have seen all this ; and, if so, there is a very peculiar knot in the shut- ter." ' He opened the shutter, and found the knot I ' Now then,' thought he, ' here is some- thing I cannot explain on my principles ; there must be some power beyond matter.' This con- sideration led Mr Hone to reflect further on the wonderful relations of man to the Unseen, and the ultimate result was his becoming an earnestly religious man. Mr Nichols endeavours to shew the case might be explained by Dr Wigan's theory of a double brain ; but it is manifestly beyond that theory to account for the preconception of the knot in the shutter, or the extraneous church in the visioned city. These explanations failing, we are in a manner compelled to think of clair- voyance or the pi'ophetic faculty, because no other explanation is left. On this assumption, an experience of mystic memory might be sup- posed to arise from a previous dream, or it may be a day reverie, perhaps one of only an instant's duration and very recent occurrence, in which the assemblage of objects and transactions was foreseen : — it appears as the recollection of a more or less forgotten vision. FEBRUARY 18. St Simeon, or Simon, bishop of Jerusalem, martyr, 116. Saints Leo and Paragorius, martyrs, 3rd century. Born. — Mary I., Queen of England, 1516, Greenwich; Isaac Casaubon, scholar, 1559, Geneva; James Cassini, astronomer, 1677, Paris ; Alexander Volta, discoverer of VoUaism, 1745, Como ; David Bogue, eminent Indepen- dent divine, 1750, Doiclan, near Eyemouth, Berwickshire ; Charles Lamb, essayist, 1775, London. Died. — Pope Gregorj' V., 999 ; George Duke of Clarence, murdered, 1478 ; Martin Luther, Protestant Keformer, Wittenberg, 1546; Sir Kichard Baker, chroni- cler, 1645, Fleet Prison ; -John Louis de Balzac, littera- teur, 1654, Angouleme ; Dr Thomas Hyde, Orientalist, 17 0'2, Hamburg ; John Ernest Count Bernstorf, Hanove- rian minister, 1772, Hamburg; Sir Jeffry "Wyatville, architect (Windsor Castle restoration), 1840, Windsor ; Baron von Biela, astronomer, 1856. GEOllGE DUKE OF CLAllENCE — WAS HE DROWNED IN MALMSEY ? Among the old historic traditions of the Tower of London is the story that George Duke of Clarence, brother of Edward the Fourth, who met his death on February 18, 1478, was, by order of his other brother, Kichard Duke of Glou- cester, drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine in the above prison. It is said that, being con- demned to die, the Duke's partiality for Malm- sey led him to select this stx'ange mode of quitting- life. There is considerable confusion in the narra- tives : first. Sir Thomas More insinuates that Gloucester's efibrts to save Clarence were feeble ; next. Lord Bacon accuses him of contriving his brother's death ; and Shakspeare characterizes him as the associate of the murderers ; while Sandford makes him the actual murderer. It is conjectured that Clarence was sentenced to be poisoned, and that the fatal drug may have been conveyed to him in ' malvoisie,' or Malmsey, then a favourite wine. The scene of the miu'der is disputed : by some it is said to have been a room in the Bowj^er Tower ; but Mrs Hutchinson, the daughter of Sir Allan Apsley, Lieutenant of the Tower, and herself born in it, and therefore well acquainted with the traditions of the building, states that the drowning took place in a chamber in the Bloody Tower. The only contemporary, or nearly contempo- rary authorities for the story, are Fabyan and Comines : now, Fabyan was an Englishman, and a Londoner, and had no doubt about it whatever. ' The Duke of Clarence,' he says, 'was secretlj' put to death, and drowned in a butt of malmsey within the Tower ;' and Comines considered the authority good, otherwise he would scarcely have mentioned it in the way he has done. FUNERAL GARLANDS. Among the many customs which have been handed down to us from early times, but which have now, unfortunately, become obsolete, one of the most beautiful, simple, and most poetically symbolic, was that of carrying garlands before the corpses of unmarried females on their way to the grave, and then hanging up the garland in the church as a memento of the departed one. This sweetly pretty custom was in former ages observed in most parts of the kingdom, but in Derbyshire — that land of wild and beautiful scenery, where remnants of old customs, of popu- lar beliefs and superstitious, and of the sports and habits of past generations linger in plenty about its mountains and its dales, its farms, its old halls, and its humbler homesteads — its obser- vance has, perhaps, been continued to a much later period than in any other district. Indeed, in some of the Peak villages the garland has been carried even within memory of their more aged inhabitants. Flowers have ever been an emblem of purity, and even in the primitive Christian churcli it was usual to place them, formed into wreaths or crowns, at the heads of deceased virgins. In every age, indeed, true virginity has been honotired in its purity by flowers pure as itself, and fresh from the hands of their Maker. Tlie same feeling which tempts the bride to adorn her beautifid tresses withawreath of orange blossoms for her nuptials — which gives rise to the oflering of a bouquet of flowers, and to the custom 271 FUXERAL GARLANDS. THE BOOK or DAYS. FUNERAL GARLANDS. of strewing tho pathway she is to tread ou her way to the altar — has been the origin of the custom of adorning tlie corpse, tho collhi, and the grave of tho virgin with the same frail but lovelj'' and appropriate emblems. The same feeling which calls virginity itself 'a llower,' is that whicli places llowers in the hair of the bride, iu the hands or around the face of the corpse, and iu the garlands at the grave. In earl}'- ages, tloubtless, the funeral garlands were composed of real flowers, but this gradually gave way to those composed of hoops and paper intermixed with ribands, which were much more durable, and had a better appearance when suspended iu the churches. The custom has been referred to by many of the old writers, and Shakspeare himself alludes to it when he says, {Hamlet, Act v. scene 1,) ' Yet here she is allowed her xiv^m cra)its' — ' crauts ' signifying ' garlands.' Old John Marston, in 1605, Avrote in his Dutch Courtezan, ' I was afraid, i' faith, that I should ha' scene a garland on this heautie's hearse ; ' and a ballad of a later date runs thus : ' But since I'm resolved to die for my dear, I'll chuse six yoimg virgins my cotfin to bear ; And all those young virgins I now do cliuse, Instead of green ribbauds, green ribbands, gi-eeu ribbands. Instead of green ribbands, a garlojid shall wear ; And when in the church in my grave I lie deep, Let all those fine garlands, fine garlands, fine gar- lands. Let all those fine garlands hang over my feet. And when any of my sex behold the sight. They may see I've been constant, been constant. They may see I've been constant to my heart's dehght.' "William Sampson, in 1636, thus alludes to this charming custom, in his lines ou the death of Miss E. Tevery : — ' Why did the Lilly, Paunce, and Violet weeps, The Marigold ere sun-set iu did creepe ? At whose reflexion she us'd for to rise And at his way-gate to close up her eies. Why M'cre the beaten Avaies with flowers stroAvne, And set with needy Lazafs, hanging downe Their mournful heades ? Avhy did the Pidpit mom"ne, As if prepared for some Funerall urne ? And yet the Temple was ivith garlands hung, Of sweet-smeUiug Flowers, which might belong Unto some bridail ! Noe ! heaven knows the cause, 'Twas otherwise decreed in N^ature's Lawes ; Those smeUing sweetes with which our sense was fed. Were for tlie huriall of a maiden, dead ; Which made an Autumne just in the mid-spring, And all things contrary their births to bring ; Herbs, Plants, and Flowers contrariously grew, Because they now received not Nature's dew ; The needy beggars hung their heads for thee, Thou matchlesse map of maiden modesty. From whose f aire handes they had an ahunei''s pay. As often as they met thee every day. The sacred Temple, Avhere thy holy fires Of incense was poAv'red on, in chast desires Was thus prepar'd, and deek'd ou every side To welcome thee, as her sole soveraigne Bride ; Whose goodness was inimitable, whose vertues shone. Like to the sun in his bright Horizon : 272 The Maiden Vcstalls, that Avith Avat'ry eies, 15ore thee to tli' Church for Vesta's sacrilize, Were all iu white ! carracts of innocence Prefiguring thy greater eminence. So great their losse, that Avith Avatery eine, They ofi'er teares still to thy virgin shrine ; And if that teares, sighes, or jjrahes coidd save thee. What A\-ould not they expresse now to have thee ? Sacred divinity alloAvs of no such Avish, Therefore, emjjaradic'd soide, rest thou iu blisse.' Gay, in his poems, has more than allusion to the custom. lie says : — ' To her SAveet memory floAv'ry garlands strung On her uoav empty seat aloft Avere hung. ' Of the garlands themselves but few examples remain, but they may still be seen iu some of the churches of Derbyshire. It is curious that, although allusions to the custom are not unfre- c[uent, uo representation of a garland had ever been engraved until within the last few months, Avhen some examples Avere given in The Reliquary quarterly journal.* Two of these engravings we are now enabled to reproduce. The first engraving shows five garlands as they at present exist iu the north aisle of Ashford-iu-the-Water Church, and the second exhibits ou a larger scale a particular garland, one of eight which formerly existed in Matlock Church, but are noAV preserved iu a local museum. They are thus described in The Beliquari/ : — ' The garlands are each composed of tAvo hoops of Avood, Avith bands crossing each other at right angles, and attached to the hoops ; thus forming a kind of open arched croAvu. The hoops and bands are all of Avood, Avrapped rouncl with white paper, aud at the top is a loop for suspen- sion. The hoops and bands of the smaller one, as shewn in the accompanying woodcut, are decorated with paper lloAvers aud rosettes, and at the top is a flower formed of hearts, and having somcAvhat the appearance of that of the Clarkia pulchella. Erom between the rosettes of the upper hoop, a paper riband, gimped on the edges, aud ornamented by diamonds cut out Avith scissors, hangs doAvn to below the loAver baud, to Avhich they are not attached. ' In another example, the hoops and bauds are decorated with paper floAvers, or rosettes, inter- mixed Avith bunches of narrow slips, or shreds of paper ; and at the top is a bunch of the same, over paper folded like a fan. Originally, the floAvers have been formed, some of plain, aud others of folded or crimped paper ; and others again of both ; and in some parts the paper has been afterAvards coloured red or blue, thus pro- ducing a somewhat gay appearance. From the centre of the top are suspended a pair of gloves, cut out of AA'hite paper, and a kei'chief or collar, also of paper, gimped on the edges and carefully folded. In most instances the name of the fe- male in Avhose honour these garlands Avere pre- pared Avas Avritten on the collar, gloves, or hand- kerchief. Ou this under notice uo name occurs, but its date is probably of the latter part of last century. Through age the colours on the paper have nearly disappeared. * Edited by Llewellynn Jewltt, F.S.A. London : John Russell Smith. Vol. i. p. 7. FTTNEEAL GARLANDS. FEBRUAEY 18. FUNEEAL GAELANDS. ' Tlie garlands at Ashford-in-the-Water, al- though in general character resembling the others we have described, differ from them in detail. They are not so profusely ornamented with ro- settes, bear no bunches of shreds of paper, and have no " pinked " or cut ribands. Each gar- land contains a single glove, and a kerchief or collar. On the collar or kerchief of each has been written a verse of poetry, and the name, age, and date of death of the virgin in whose FUNERAL GARLANDS, ASHFORD-IX-THE-\VATER CHURCH. honour they were prepared. Owing to age, the decay of the paper, and the fading of the ink, the writing on most of them is obliterated. On one, however, the date of April 12th, 1747, occurs; FUNKRAL GARLAND, MATLOCK CHURCH. there has also on this one been six lines of poetry, now perfectly illegible, and the name of the female appears to have been Ann Howard, who 18 died at the age of twenty-one. On another of a later date, we succeeded with considerable diffi- culty in deciphering the following lines : — " Be always ready, no time delay, I in my youth was called away. Great grief to those that's left behind, But I hope I'm great joy to find. Ann Swiudel, Aged 22 years, dIc. 9th, 1798." ' The form of garland of course varied in dif- ferent localities, but the same general design prevailed wherever the custom was observed. In some of the metropolitan churches the gar- land, instead of being composed of real flowers, or of paper ones, was frequently composed of wire formed into filagree work resembling flowers and leaves, ornaments of gum, wax, and of dyed horn, and other materials, and some- times had a gay, instead of a simple and pure appearance. A garland of this time has thus been described in the Antiquarian Repertory : ' These garlands at the funerals of the de- ceased were carried solemnly before the corpse by two maids, and afterwards hung up in some conspicuous place within the church, and they were made in the following manner, viz. : — the lower rim or circlet was a broad hoop of wood, 273 FUNEEAL GARLANDS, THE BOOK OF DAYS. sin JOHN TASTON. •n-horeunto was fixed at llie sides tliercof two other hoops, crossing each other at the top at right angk'S. which formed the upper part, being about one-third kwger tlian tlie widtli. These hoops were wholly covered with artificial flowers of paper, dyed horn, and silk, and more or less beautiful, according to the skill or ingenuity of the performer. In the vacancy inside, from the top. hung white paper exit iu form of gloves, whereon was wi'itten deceased's name, age, &c., together with long slips of various colom-ed paper, or ribands ; these were many times inter- mixed with gilded or painted shells of blown eggs, as farther ornaments, or it may be as em- blems of bubbles, or the bitterness of this life ; while other garlands had only a solitary hour- glass hanging therein, as a more significant sym- bol of mortality.' Of garlands, and the funeral rites generally of a virgin, a most interesting account is to be found in a very scarce little book entitled The Virgins Paiiern, which describes the funeral of a lady at Hackney, named Perwich: ' The hearse, covered with velvet, was carried by six servant maidens of the family, all in white. The sheet was held up by sis of those gentlewomen in the school that had most acquaintance with her, in mourning habit, with white scarfs and gloves. A rich costly garland of gum-work adorned with banners and 'scutcheons, was boi*ne immediately before the hearse, by two proper young ladies that entirely loved her. Her father and mother, with other near relations and their children, followed next the hearse in due order, all in mourning : the kindred next to them ; after whom came the whole school of gentlewomen, and then persons of chief rank from the neigh- bourhood and from the city of London, aU in white gloves ; both men, women, children, and servants having been first served with wine. The hearse having been set down, with the gar- land upon it, the E-ev. Dr Spurstow preached her funeral sei'mon. This done, the cofiin, anointed with rich odours, was put down into the grave, in the middle alley of the said (Hackney) church.' In a singular old book entitled the Comical Pilgrims Pilgrimage, the author says : ' When a virgin dies, a garland made of aU sorts of flowers and sweet herbs, is carried by a young woman on her head, before the coffin, from which hang down two black ribands, signifying our mortal state, and two white, as an emblem of purity and innocence. The ends thereof are held by four young maids, before whom a basket full of herbs and flowers is supported by two other maids, who strew them along the streets to the place of burial ; then, after the deceased, follow all her relations and acquaintance.' In some districts the garlands were only allowed to remain suspended in the church for a twelvemonth after the burial of the young woman. In others the garland was buried in the same grave with her. In Derbyshire, however, they appear to have remained hung up on the arches or on the beams of the roof, imtil they have either decayed away or been removed by order of some one whose love of change was greater than his veneration for these simple memorials of the dead, 274 In 1662, an inquiry in the diocese of Ely was made as follows : ' Are any garlands and other ordinary funeral ensigns suffered to hang where they hinder the prospect, or imtil they grow foul and dusty, withered and rotten ? ' At Heanor, not many years ago, a number of these interest- ing relics, M'hich had hung there for years, were removed at a general church-cleaning which took place on the coming in of a new incumbent, and at many other places they have been as ruthlessly destroyed. At Llandovery the gar- lands and gloves hang a year in the church, and ai'c then taken down, and on each anniversary of the death of the virgin the grave is by some friend decorated with flowers, and a pair of white gloves is laid upon it. These gloves are taken away by the nearest relative who visits the grave that day. Beautifully and touchingly has Anna Seward sung : ' Now the low beams with paper garlands himg. In memory of some village youth or maid, Draw the soft tear, from thrill'd remembrance sprung ; How oft my childhood marked that tribute paid ! The gloves suspended by the garland's side, White as its snowy flowers with ribands tied. Dear village ! long these wreaths funereal spread, Simple memorial of the early dead ! ' and it is much to be hoped that wherever any of these ' simple memorials of the early dead ' exist, they may long escape the hand of the spoliator, aud be allowed to remain where the loving hands and the sorrowing heai'ts of the mourners, generations past, had placed them. FUNEKAL FEAST OF SIR JOHN PASTON. In 1466 died iu London, Sir John Paston, the head of the wealthy family whose correspondence, known as the Paston Letters, presents so many pictiues of the life of the English gentry of that age. The body of Sir John was conveyed, for interment, to the Priory of Bromholm, in the parish of Barton, a little village on the north-east coast, and within sight of the sea. A cm-ious roll of accounts of the expenses of the funeral is j^reserved, from which we gather that for the feast, during three continuous days, one man was occupied in fla3dng beasts ; and provision was made of thirteen barrels of beer, twenty-seven barrels of ale, one barrel of beer of the greatest assize, and a riuilet of red wine of fifteen gallons. All these, how- ever, copious as they seem, proved inadequate to the demand ; for the account goes on to state that five coombs of malt at one time, and ten at another, were brewed up expressly for the occasion. Meat, too, was in proportion to the hquor ; the country round about must have been swept of geese, chickens, capons, and such small gear, all which, with thirteen hundred eggs, thirty gallons of milk, and eight of cream, forty-one pigs, forty calves, and ten 'nete,' slain aud devoiued, give a fearful picture of the scene of festivity within the priory walls. Amongst such provisions, the article of bread bears nearly the same proportion as in Falstaff's bill of fare. On the other hand, the torches, the many pounds weight of wax to burn over the grave, and the separate candle of enormous stature and girth, form prodigious items. No less than £20 was changed from gold into smaller coin that it might be showered amongst the attendant throng ; and twenty-six marks in copper had been used for the same object in London, before the pro- HENEY PEINCE OF WALES . FEBEUAEY 19. SIE WILLIAM NAPIEE. cession loegan to move. A barber was occupied five days in smartening up the monks for the ceremony ; and 'the reke of the torches at the dii'ge' was so great that the glazier had to remove two panes to permit the fumes to escape. FEBRUARY 19. St Barbatus, bishop of Benevento, 684. Born. — Nicolaus Copernicus, astronomer, 1473, Thorn, in Prussia; Henry Frederick Prince of Wales, 1594, Stirling Castle ; Admiral Lord Rodney, 1718, Walton-on- Tkames ; Richard Cumberland, dramatist, 1732, Cam- bridge; Sir Roderick I. Murchison, geologist, 1792, Tar- radale, Ross-shire, Died. — Dec. Albinus (Emperor), killed, 198, Rhone River; Erasmus Reinhold, astronomer, 1553, Thi- ringen ; Lucilio Vanini, 1619, burnt as an atheist, at Toulouse; Sir Henry Savile, mathematician, 1622, Eton College; Francis de Sauvages, nosologist, 1767, Mont- pelier ; Elizabeth Carter, classical scholar, 180&, London ; Bernard Barton, poet, 1849 ; Sir William Napier, mili- tary historian, 1860. HENRY PRINCE OF WAEES. It is blessed to die in promise, rather tlian after all the blots and mischances of performance. We naturally credit the young dead with much which might never have been realized. Nevertheless, in the early death of Henry Prince of Wales there is no room to doubt that the national bewailment was just. All accounts concur in representing him as a youth of bright talents, most generous dispositions, and the noblest aspi- rations. At sixteen, he had the figure, the pro- portions, and the sentiments of a full-grown man. With the love of study which belonged to his father, he possessed what his father entirely wanted, a love of manly military exercises. In riding, in archery, in the use of arms, lie was without a superior. He studied ship-building and the whole art of war with as much zeal as if he had had no taste for elegant learning. When, at Christmas 1609, the romantic spectacle called his Harriers was presented in the Banqueting House at Whitehall, — when he and six other youths met each in succession eight others, at pike and sword play, — all clad in the beautiful armour of the period, — Henry was remarked, to the surprise of all, to have given and received thirty-two pushes of pike and about three hundred and sixty strokes of sword, in one evening. It was in the midst of active study and exer- cise, and whUe the nation was becoming fully aware of the promise he gave as their future ruler, that this accomplished prince was seized with a fever, the consequence, apparently, of the too violent fatigues to which he occasionally sub- jected himself. What immediately affected him to a fatal ULness, seems to have been his playing at tennis one evening without his coat. In the simple act of stripping off and laying aside that coat, was involved an incalculable change of the current of English history ; for, had Henry sur- vived and reigned, the country would probably have escaped a civO. war — and who can say, in that event, how much our national destinies might have been changed, for good or evO. ? During the twelve days of the prince's illness, the public mind was wrought up to a pitch of intense anxiety regarding him ; and when, on one occasion, he was thought to have yielded up the ghost, the cry of grief went out from St James's Palace into the street, and was there repeated and spread by the sympathising multi- tude. AU that the medical skiU of that age could do was done to save so valuable a life, including some applications that sound strangely in our ears : for example, pigeons applied to the head, and a split cock to the feet. Sir Walter Raleigh sent from his prison in' the Tower a ' quintescence ' which he believed to be of wonderful power ; and it did give the prince the only approach to a restoring perspiration which he had had. But aU was in vain. Henry died on the 6th of November 1612, when three months less than nineteen years of age. As a historical event, his death ranks with a very small class in which deceased royalty has been mourned by the nation's heart; the deaths of the Princess Char- lotte and of the Prince Consort Albert being almost the only other instances. The national admiration of this young prince is shevra in some quaint lines, hitherto inedited, in the Burleigh MSS. : ' Loe ! where he shineth yonder, A fixed star in heaven ; Whose motion heere came under None of your planets seaven. If that the moone should tender The sunne her love, and marry, They both would not engender See great a star as Harry.' — 1617. SIR WILLIAM NAPIER. The public was for some years startled from time to time by the publication of letters signed WiUiam Napier, speaking passionately and un- 275 DEEAM OF GOOD KING GONTBAN. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DEEAM OF GOOD KING GONTEAN. measuredly ou some subject, sjenorally military : it came to be recoiinised as a Kupicrian. style of writiug. The Avritor of these iiery missives was one of the worthiest aud ablest of men, the younger brother of the eminent commander Sir Charles James ISa pier, and par excellence the his- torian of the Pcninsidar War. William Napier, born in 17S5, commanded a regiment (the 43rd) all through that war, and was well fitted to be its annalist. Ilis work, begun in 1828, and finished in six Tolumes, is a masterpiece of detailed his- tory. Passages of it are said to have been re- counted round the watch-fires and told in the trenches before Sebastopol, and never without warming the soldier's heart, firing his mind, and nerving his arm. Sir William also wrote The Conquest of Scinde, and a Life of his brother Charles, both of them valuable books. He will not be the least memorable of the extraordinaiy brood of sons which Sarah Lennox, after some other singvdar passages of life, was fated to bring into the world. THE DREAM OF THE GOOD KING GONTRAN. The late Hugh Miller, in his interesting work, My Schools and Schoolmasters, when speaking of a cousin named George, says : — ' Some of his Highland stories were very curious. He communicated to me, for example, beside the broken tower, a tradition illustrative of the Celtic theory of dreaming, of which I have since often thought. Two young men had been spending the early portion of a warm sum- mer day in exactly su.ch a scene as that in which he communicated the anecdote. There was an ancient ruin beside them, separated, however, from the mossy bank on which they sat by a slender runnel, across which there lay, imme- diately over a miniature cascade, a few withered grass-stalks. Overcome by the heat of the day, one of the young men feel asleep ; his companion watched drowsily beside him, Avhen all at once the watcher was aroused to attention by seeing a little, indistinct form, scarce larger than a humble-bee, issue from the mouth of the sleeping man, and, leaping upon the moss, move down- wards to the runnel, which it crossed along the withered grass-stalks, and then disappeared amid the interstices of the ruin. Alarmed by what he saw, the watcher hastily shook his companion by the shoulder, and awoke him ; though, with all his haste, the little, cloud-like creature, still more rapid in its movements, issued from the interstice into which it had gone, and, flying across the runnel, instead of creeping along the grass-stalks and over the sward, as before, it re-entered the mouth of the sleeper, just as he was in the act of awakening. " What is the matter with you? " said the watcher, greatly alarmed ; " what aUs you?" "Nothing ails me," replied the other, "but you have robbed me of a most delightful dream. I dreamed I was walking through a fine rich country, and came at length to the shores of a noble river ; and, just where the clear water went thundering down a precipice, there was a bridge aU of silver, which I crossed ; and then, entering a noble palace on the opposite side, I saw great heaps of gold and jewels ; and I was just going to load myself with treasure, when you rudely awoke me, and I lost all." ' The above story is by no means uncommon in the Highlands, and the writer has frequently heard it related by an old native of Eoss-shirc — ■ who firmly believed it — as an indisputable evi- dence of the immortality of the soul, the ' little indistinct form ' being assumedly the soul of the man, in full life, sense, and motion, whde his body was wrapped in the death-like torpor of sleep. And he further stated that in the High- lands, under peculiar circumstances, the little form has been seen leaving the mouths of certain persons at the last gasp of life. It is a curious fact that a similar legend, having, hoAvever, a much more practical conclusion, is related of Gontran the Good, king of Burgundy, who lived, reigned, and died so far back as the sixth century. One day, Gontran, wearied with the chase, and attended but by one faithful squire, laid himself down to rest near a small rivulet, and soon fell asleep. The squire, while carefully guarding his royal master, with great astonishment perceived a small beast (bestion) emerge from the king's mouth, and proceed to the bank of the rividet, where it ran up and down for some time, seemingly wishing to cross the water, but unable to do so. There- upon the squire, determined to see the end of the adventure, drew his sword, and laid it over the stream from bank to bank. The little animal seeing this improvised bridge, ran over it, and speeddy disappeared in a small hole, at the foot of a hill on the opposite side. After remaining there for a very short period, it returned along the sword, and into the king's mouth. Soon after, Gontran, awakening, said that he had just had a most extraordinary dream, in which he thought that he had crossed a foaming torrent on a bridge of polished steel, and entered a sub- terranean palace full of gold and jewels. The squire then relating what he had seen, the king, on his return to his palace, summoned all the learned men in Burgundy, and having stated the whole occurrence, demanded of them the immediate interpretation thereof. For once in the world's history, the opinion of the savans was unanimous ; they declared there could be no reasonable doubt on the matter. A large treasure was concealed under the hill, and, its existence being by a special miracle disclosed to the king, he alone was destined to be its possessor. Gontran immediately set a great number of men to work, the hiU was undermined, and the trea- sure discovered. Receiving this treasure as an especial gift of Providence, Gontran devoted the principal part of it to purposes of charity and religion. He founded hospitals for the poor, and ecclesiastical edifices for the clergy ; he made extensive roads through his kingdom, that the poor might be the better enabled to perform pilgrimages ; and covered the shrine of St Marcel, at Chalons-sur-Saone, with a thick layer of beaten gold. Still further to commemo- rate the wonderful event, the King ordered that the hUl should ever after be termed Mont- Tresor, the name which it bears at the present day. Claud Paradin, in his Sj/mhola Meroicai has JOSEPH HUME. FEBEUAEY 20. TWO POET FELONS. recorded the ■wonderful dream of Gontran, by the accompanying engraving and the motto : 'SIC SOPOR IRRUPIT.' 'so SLEEP CAilE UPON HIM.' FEBRUARY 20. Saints Tyrannio, Zenobius, and others, martyrs in Phoenicia, about 310. St Sadotb, bishop of Seleucia and Ctesiphon, with 128 companions, martyrs, 342. St Eleutherius, bishop of Tournay, martyr, 522. St Mildred, virgin abbess in Thanet, 7th century. St Eucherius, bishop of Orleans, 743. St Ulrick, of England, 1 154. Born. — Frangois-Marie Arouct de Voltaire, poet, dra- matist, historical and philosophical writer, 1694, Chate- nay ; David Garrick, actor and dramatist, 1716, Here- ford; Charles Dalloway, 1763, Bristol. Died. — Archbishop Arundel, 1413-14, Canierhury ; Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, 1579, York House, Strand; Dorothy Sidney, Countess of Sunderland, 1684, Brington, Mrs Elizabeth Rowe, philanthropic-religious writer, 1737; Charles III. (of Savoy), 1773; Joseph II. (Emperor), 1790; Dr John Moore, novelist, 1802, Eich- mond; Richard Gough, antiquary, 1809, Wormley ; An- dreas Hofer, Tyrolese patriot, shot by tlie French, 1810 ; Joseph Hume, statesman, 1855. JOSEPH HUME. The name of Joseph Hume has become so insepa- rably associated with his long-continued exertions to check extravagance in the use of public money, that most persons will hear with a feeling of sur- prise that he was in reality disposed to a liberal use of the state funds wherever a good object was to be served, and especially if that object involved the advancement of knowledge among the people. The Earl of Ellesmere, in his address to the Geographical Society, in 1855, bore strong testi- mony to the help which Mr Hume had given in promoting the claim of that body for assistance towards giving it a better place of meeting, and enabling it to throw open to the public the use of its ' instruments of research and instruction.' The present writer can add a grateful testimony, in regard to the Scottish Society of Antiquaries. That body, being a few years ago hardly rich enough to keep a person to shew its valuable museum, a proposal was made that it should hand its collection over to the state, who might then keep it open for the instruction and gratiQcation of the public at its own expense. Mr Hume became satisfied that the proposal was an honest one, calculated to prove serviceable to the public ; and the Society had no such friend and advocate as he in getting the transaction with the Treasury effected. The result has been such as fully to justifj' the zeal he shewed on the occasion. Mr Hume was a native of Montrose, made his way through poverty to the education of a physi- cian, and, realizing some wealth in India, devoted himself from about the age of forty to political Hfe. As a member of Parliament, it was the sole study of this remarkable man to protect and advance the interests of the public ; he specially applied himself, in the earlier part of his career, to the advocacy of an economical use of tlie pub- lic purse. He met with torrents of abuse and ridicule from those interested in opposite objects, and he encountered many disappointments ; but nothing ever daunted or disheartened him. Within an hour of a parliamentary defeat, he would be engaged in merry play with his children, having entirely cast away aU sense of mortifica- tion. The perfect single-heartedness and honesty of Joseph Hume in time gained upon his greatest enemies, and he died in the enjoyment of the respect of all classes of politicians. TWO POET FELONS. On the 20th of February 1749, the vulgar death of felons was suffered at Tyburn by two men different in some respects from ordinary criminals, Usher Gahagan and Terence Conner, both of them natives of Ireland. They were young men of respectable connexions and ex- cellent education ; they had even shewn what might be called promising talents. Gahagan, on coming to London, offered to translate Pope's Essay o)i Man into Latin for the booksellers, and, from anything that appears, he would have per- formed the task in a manner above mediocrity. There was, however, a moral deficiency in both of these young men. Falling into vicious courses, and faUiug to supply themselves with money by honest means, they were drawn by a fellow- countryman named Coffey into a practice of filing the coin of the realm, a crime then considered as high treason. For a time, the business prospered, but the usual detection came. It came in a rather singular manner. A teller in the Bank of England, who had observed them freqiiently drawing coin from the bank, became suspicious of them, and communicated his suspicions to the governors. Under direction from these gentle- men, he, on the next occasion, asked the guilty trio to drink wine with him in the evening at the Crown Tavern, near Cripplegate. As had been calculated upon, the wine and familiar discourse opened the hearts of the men, and Gahagan im- parted to the teller the secret of their life, and concluded by pressing him to become a con- federate in their plans. Their apprehension fol- lowed, and, on Coffey's evidence, the two others were found guUty and condemned to death. Just at that time, the young Prince George 277 "WAEWICK LANE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. WARWICK lANE. (afterwards George III.) and Lis younger brother Edward had appeared in the charaeters of Cato and Juba, in a boy-acted play at court. Poor Gahagan sent a poetical addi'ess to the young prince, liopiug for some intercession in his behalf. It was as well expressed and as well rhymed as most poetry of that age. After some of the usual compliments, he proceeded thus : * Roused with the thought and inipotently vaiu, I now would launch into a nobler straiu ; But see ! the cai)tive muse forbids the lays, Unlit to stretch the merit I would praise. Such at whose heels no galling shackles ring, Waj' raise the voice, and boldly touch the string ; Cramped hand and foot while I in gaol must stay. Dreading each hour the execution day ; Pent up in den, ojiprobrious alms to crave, No Delphic cell, ye gods, nor sybil's cave ; Xor will my Pegasus obey the rod, With massy u-on barbarously shod,' &c. Conner in like verse claimed the intercession of the Duchess of Queensberry, describing in piteous terms the hard usage and meagre fare now meted out to him, and entreating that she, who had been the protectress of Gay, would not calmly see another poet hanged. All was in vaiu. WARWICK LANE. Few of the thoroughfares of old London have under- gone such mutations of fortune as may be traced in Warwick-lane, once the site of the house of the famed Beauchamps, Earls of Warwick, afterwards dis- tinguished by including in its precincts the CoUege of Physicians, now solely remarkable for an abmidance of those private shambles which are still permitted to disgrace the English metropolis. In the coroners' rolls of hve centuries ago, we read of mortal accidents which befel youths iu attempting to steal api^les in the neighbouring orchards of Pater- noster-row and Ivy-lane, then periodically redolent of fruit-blossoms. Warwick Inn, as the ancient house was called, was, in the 28th of Henry VI. (about 1450) ijossessed by Cecily, Duchess of Warwick. Eight years later, when the greater estates of the realm were called up to London, Pdchard Keville, Earl of Warwick, the King-maher, ' came with GOO men, all in red jackets, embroidered with ragged staves before and behind, and was lodged in Warwick -lane ; iu whose house there was oftentimes six oxen eaten at a brealcfast, and every tavern was fuU of his meat ; for he that had any acquaintance in that house, might have there so much of sodden and roast meat as he could pi'ick and carry on a long dagger.' The Great Fire swej^t away the Warwick-lane of Stow's time ; and when it was rebuilt, there was placed upon the house at its north-west end, a bas- rehef of Guy, Earl of Warwick, in memory of the princely owners of the inn, with the date ' 16G8 ' upon it. This memorial-stone, which was renewed in 1817, by J. Deykes, architect, is a counterpart of the figure in the chapel of St Mary Magdalen, in Guy'.s CHfF, near Warwick. The College of Physicians, bnilfc by Wren to re- place a previous fabric burnt down in the Great Fire, may still be seen on the west side of the lane, but sunk into the condition of a butcher's shop. Though in a confined situation, it seems to have formerly been considered an impressive structure, the exterior being thus described in Garth's witty satire of the Dispen- sary : 278 ' Not far from that most celebrated place, * Wliere angry Justice shews her awful face, Where little villains must submit to fate. That grrat ones may enjoy the world in state, There stands a dome majestic to the sight. And sumptuous arches bear its awful height ; A golden globe, placed high with artfiU skill, Seems to the distant sight a gilded pill. ' This simile is a hajijjy one ; though Mr Elmes, Wren's biographer, ingeniously suggests that the gilt globe was perha])s intended to intimate the universality of the healing art. Here the physicians met until the year 1825, when they removed to their newly-built College in Pall Mall East. The interior of the edifice in Warwick-lane was convenient and smnp- tuous ; and one of the minute accounts tells us that in the garrets were dried the herbs for the use of the Dispensary. The College builchngs were next let to the Equitable Loan (or Pawnbroking) Company ; next to Messrs. Tylor, braziers, and as a meat-market : oddly enough, on the left of the entrance portico, beneath a bell-handle there remains the inscription ' Mr Law- rence, Surgeon,' along with the words 'Night Bell,' recalling the days when the house belonged to a learned institution. We must, however, take a glance at the statues of Charles II. and Sir John Cutler, within the court ; esfjccially as the latter assists to expose an act of public meanness. It appears by the College books BELL INN, WARWICK LANE. that, in 1674, Sir John Cutler promised to bear expense of a specified part of the new building : "' Newgate. the the ■\VAKWICK LANE. FEBEUAEY 20. "WAEWICK LANE. committee thanked him, aucl in 1680, statues of the King and Sii- John were voted by the members : nine years afterwards, when the College was completed, it was resolved to borrow money of Sir John, to dis- charge the CoUege debt ; what the sum was is not specified ; it appears, however, that in 1699, Sir John's executors made a demand on the College for £7,000, supposed to include money actually lent, money pretended to be given, and interest on both. The executors accepted £2,000, and dropped their claim for the other five. The statue was allowed to stand ; but the in- scription, ' Omnis Cutleri cedat Labor Amphitheatre,' was very properly obliterated. In the Lane are two old galleried inns, which carry us back to the bi-oad-wheeled travelling wagons of our forefathers. About midway, on the east side, is the BeU Inn, where the pious Archbishop Leighton ended his earthlj'' pilgrimage, ac- cording to his wish, which Bishop Burnet states him. to have thus ex- pressed ill the same peaceful and moderate spirit, as that by which, in the troublous times of the Com- monwealth, Leighton won the af- fections of even the most rigid Pres- byterians. ' He used often to say, that, if he were to choose a place to die in, it shoidd be an inn ; it looking like a pilgrim's going home, to whom this world was all as an inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion in it. He added that the officious tenderness and care of friends was an entangle- ment to a djing man ; and that the unconcerned attendance of those that coidd be procured in such a place would give less disturbance. And he obtained what he desu-ed ; for he died [16S4] at the BeU Inn, in Warwick -lane. ' — Burneffs Own Times. Dr Fall, who was well acquainted with Leighton, after a glowing eulogy on his holy fife and 'heavenly converse, ' proceeds : ' Such a life, we may easily persuade ourselves, must make the thought of death not only tolerable, but desirable. Accordingly, it had this noble effect upon him. In a paper left imder his own hand, (since lost,) he bespeaks that day in a most glorious and triumphant manner; his ex^jressions seem raptm'ous and ecstatic, as though lus wishes and desires had anticipated the real and solemn celebration of his nuptials with the Lamb of God. . . . He sometimes expressed his desii'e of not being troublesome to his friends at his death ; and God gratified to the full his modest humble choice ; he dying at an inn in his sleep.' Somewhat lower in the Lane is the street leading to Newgate-market, which Gay has thus signafized : ' Shall the large mutton smoke ui)on your boards ? Such Newgate's copious market best afi'ords.' Trivia, book ii. Before the Great Fire, this market was kept in New- gate-street, where there was a market-house formed, and a middle row of sheds, which afterwards were converted into houses, and iuhaliited by butchers, tripe-seUers, &c. The stalls in the open street grew dangerous, and were accordingly removed into the open space between Newgate-street and Paternoster- row, formerly the orchards ali'eady mentioned ; and here were the houses of the Prebends of St Paid'.s, overgrown with ivy ; whence Ivy-lane takes its name, although amidst the turmoil of the market, with the massive dome of St Paul's on one side, and that of OXEOKD ARaiS INX, WARWICK I^iJs'E. the old CoUege of Physicians on the other, it is hard to associate the place with the domain of a nymph so lovely as Pomona. The other gaUeried inn of Warwick-lane is the Ox- ford Arms, within a recess on the west side, and nearly adjoining to the residentiary houses of St Paul's in Amen-corner. It is one of the best specimens of the old London inns remaining in the metropolis. As you ad- vance you observe a red brick pedimented fa9ade of the time of Charles II., beneath which you enter the inn- yard, which has, on three of its sides, two stories of 279 WAKWICK LAXE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE CAMEKONIAKS. balastradcd ^vooclen galleries, witli exterior staii-cases leading to the chambers on each floor ; the fourth side being occupied by stabling, built against part of old London wall. The house was an inn with the sign of the Oxford Arms before the Great Fire, as appears bj' the following advertisement in the London Gazette for March, U»7--3, No. 7(j- : — 'These are to give notice, that Ed\\"ard Bartlett, Oxford carrier, hath removed his inn, in London, from the Swan, at Holborn-bridge, to the Oxford Arm/!, in Warwick- lane, Avhere he did inn before the Fire ; his coaches and wagons going forth on their usual daj's, — Mon- days, Wednesdays, and Fiidaj's. He hath also a hearse, A\'ith all things convenient, to carry a corpse to any part of England.' The Oxford Arms was not part of the Earl of Warwick's property, but belonged to the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's, who hold it to this day. From the inn premises is a door opening into one of the back yards of the residentiary houses, and it is stated that, diu'ing the riots of 1780, this passage facilitated the escape of certain Roman Catho- lics, who then frequented the Oxford Arms, on their being attacked by the mob ; for which reason, as is said, by a clause inserted in the Oxfoi-d Arms lease, that door is forbidden to be closed up. This inn appears to have been longer frequented by carriers, wagoners, and stage-coaches, than the Bell Inn, on the east side of the Lane ; for in the list in Delaune's Present State of London, 1690, the Oxford Arms occurs frequently, but mention is not made of the Bell Lm. 'At the Oxford Arms, in Warwick-lane,' lived John Iloberts, the bookseller, from whose shop issued the majority of the squibs and libels on Pope. In ^Varwick-square, about midway on the west side of the Lane, was the early office of the Public Ledger newspaper, in which Goldsmith wrote his Citizen of the World, at two guineas per week ; and here succeeded to a share in the property John Ci'ow- der, who, by cbligent habits, rose to be alderman of the ward (Farringdon Within), and Lord Mayor in 1829-30. The London Packet (evening paper) was also Crowder's property. The Independent Whig was likewise localized in the square ; and at the south- west corner was the priuting-ofiice of the inflexible John Wheble, who befriended John Britton, when cellarman to a wine-merchant, and set him to write the Beaidies of Wiltshire. Wheble was, in 1771, apprehended for abusing the House of Commons, in his Middlesex Journal, but was discharged by Wilkes ; of a better comjilexion was his County Chronicle, and the Sporting Magazine, which he commenced with John Harris, the bookseller. In this d^dl square, also, was the office of Mr Wilde, solicitor, the father of Lord Chancellor Truro, who here mounted the office- stool en route to the Woolsack. Happy Accidents. — In 1684, a poor boy, apprenticed to a weaver at his native village of Wickwar, in Gloucestershire, in carrying, according to custom on a certain day in the year, a dish called ' whitepot ' to the baker's, let it fall and broke it, and fearing to face hLs mistress, ran away to London, where he prospered, and, remembering his native village, foimded the schools there which bear his name. At Momnouth, tradition relates that one Wifliam Jones left that place to become a shopboy to a London merchant, in the time of James I. , and, by his good conduct, rose first to the counting-house, and then to a partnersliip in the concern ; and having realized a large fortune, came back in the disguise of a pauper, flrst to his native place, Newland, in Gloucestershire, from whence, ha\nng been ill received there, he betook himself to Monmouth, and meeting with kindness among his old friends, he bestowed £9,000 in founding a free grammar-school. 280 FEBRUARY 21. Saints Daniel, priest, and Verda, virgin, martyrs, 34-1. St Sevcrianus, bishop of Scythopolis, martyr, about 452. Blessed Pepin of Landen, mayor of the palace, G40. Saints German, abbot, and Randaut, martyrs, about G66. Born. — Pierre du Bosc, 16'23, Bayeux ; Mrs Anne Grant, author of Lettei-s from the Hlouiitaim, 1755, Glasyoio. Died. — Gains Ciijsar Agrijipa, a.d. 4 ; James I. (of Scotland), murdered, 1437, Perth; Pope Julius II., 1513; Henry Grey, duke of Suffolk, beheaded, 1555 ; Robert Southwell, poet, executed at Tyhiirn, 1595 ; Secretary John Thurloe, 1668, Lincoln s-inn ; Benedict de Spinoza, philosopher, 1677; Pope Benedict XIII. , 1730; Eugene de Beauharnois, Duke of Leuchtenberg, 1824, Munich ; Rev. Robert Hall, Baptist preacher, \%Z\, Bristol; Charles Rossi, R.A., sculptor, 1839. POPE JULIUS II. Julius de la llovere, wlio ascended the papal tlirone in 1503, under tke title of Julius II., is one of the most famous of all tlie Popes. He was the founder of the church of St Peter at Rome ; but his most remarkable acts were of a warlike character. During his papacy of ten years, he was continually engaged in war, first, against the Venetians, to recover the Eomagna, in which affair he was assisted by the Frencli and Germans ; afterwards with the Germans against the French, in order to get these dan- gerous friends driven out of Italy. It was not tin he had formed what he called ' a holy league,' in which he united to himself Spain, England, Venice, and the Swiss, that he succeeded in his object. In this war, he assumed all the charac- ters and duties of a military commander, and few have exceeded him in spirit and resolution. As examples of the far-reaching policy of the man, he sent a splendid sword of state to the King of Scotland (James IV.) ; it still exists among the Scottish regalia, exhibiting the armorial bearings of Pope Julius. In the great chest at Eeikiavik cathedral in Iceland, are robes which he sent to the bishop of that remote island. Julius struck a medal to commemorate the great events of his reign ; it represented him in pontificals, with the tiara on his head, and a whip in his hand, chasing the French, and trampling the shield of France under his feet. When Michael Angelo was making a statue of the pope, he said to him, ' Holy Father, shaU I place a book in your hand ? ' ' Ko,' answered his Holi- ness, ' a sword rather— I know better how to handle it.' He was indeed much more of a soldier than an ecclesiastic, in any recognised sense of the term. He was the first pope who allowed his beard to grow, in order to inspire the greater respect among the faithful ; a fashion in which he was followed by Charles V. and other kings, and which spread through the courtiers to the people. THE CAMEROiSIIANS EPIGRAM BY BURNS. In the churchyard of the parish of Balmaghie, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, are the grave- stones of three persons who fell victims to the THE CAMEEONIANS. FEBRUAEY 21. FOLK-LOEE OF PLAYING CAEDS. boot-and-saddle mission sent into Scotland under the last Stuarts. One of these rude monuments bears the following inscription : ' Here lyes David Halliday, portioner of Mai- field, who was shot upon the 21st of February 1685, aud David Halliday, once in Glengapc, who was likewise shot upon the 11th of July 1685, for their adherence to the principles of Scotland's Covenanted Reformation, ' Beneath This Stone Two David Hallidays Do Lie, Whose Souls Now Sing Theii- Masters praise. To know I£ Curious Passengers desire, For What, By Whom, And How They Did Expire ; They Did Oppose This Nation's Perjury, Nor Could They Join With Lordly Prelacy. Indulging Favours From Christ's Enemies Quenched Not Their Zeal. This Monument Then cries, These Were The Causes, Not To Be Forgot, Why They By Lag So Wickedly Were Shot ; One Name, One Cause, One Grave, One Heaven, Do Tie Theu- Souls To That One God Eternally.' The reverend gentleman who first printed this epitaph in his parochial contribution to the Sta- tistical Account of Scotland (1794), made upon it the unlucky remark — ■' The author of which no doubt supposed himself to have been wi'iting poetry' — unlucky when we consider the respect due to the earnestness of these men in a frame of religious opinion which they thought right, and for which they had surrendered life. Burns, who got the Statistical Account out of the sub- scription library of Dumfries, experienced the just feeling of the occasion, and rebuked the writer for his levity in a quatrain, which he inscribed on the margin, where it is still clearly to be traced : ' The Solemn League and Covenant Now Ijrings a smile — now brings a tear — But sacred Freedom too was theirs ; If thou'i-t a slave, indulge thy sneer.' Itwill perhapsbe learnedwith some surprisethat a remnant of those Camerouians who felt unsatis- fied with the Presbyterian settlement at the Revo- lution, still exists in Scotland. Numbering about seven hundred persons, scattered chiefly through- out the south-west provinces of Scotland, they continue to decline taking the oath of allegiance to the reigning monarch, or to accept of any public office, holding that monarch and people have broken their pledge or covenant, by which they were bound in 1644 to extirpate popery, prelacy, and other errors. Holding out their testimony on this subject, they abstain from even exercising the elective franchise, alleging that to do so would be to sanction the aforesaid breach of covenant, to which they trace all the evils that befall the land. In May 1861, when this Re- formed Presbytery met in Edinburgh, a trying question came before them ; there were young men in their body who felt anxious to join in the volunteer movement ; some had even done it. There were also some members who had exer- cised the elective franchise. To pursue a con- temporary record : ' A lengthened discussion took place as to what should be done, and numerous reverend members urged the modification of tlie testimony, as regards the assumed identity of the representative and the voter, and as regards the interpretation of the oath of allegiance. Highly patriotic and almost loyal views were expressed on the Volunteer question, and warm expressions of admiration and love for Her Majesty were uttered, and of willingness to defend her person and protect the soil from invasion, so far as their service could be given apart from rendering fealty to the constitution. Another party in the Synod denounced the proposal to modify the testimony, as a backsliding and defection from the testimony. It was idtimately resolved, by 30 to 11, to appoint a committee to inquire into the soundness of the views contained in the tes- timony on the points mooted, and to relieve kirk sessions from the obligation to expel members who entertained doubts and difficulties on these matters, but meantime to recommend members of the Church to abstain fromA'oting at elections. No similar recommendation having been made as to holding aloof from the Volunteer movement, it may be presumed that that point has been con- ceded.' THE FOLK-LORE OF PLAYING CARDS. The long disputed questions respecting the period of the invention of playing-cards, and whether they were first used for purposes of divination or gambling, do not fall within the prescribed limits of this jjaper. Its object is simply to disclose^probably for the first time in print — the method or system of divination by playing-cards, constantly employed and implicitly depended upon, by many thousands of our fellow- countrymen and women at the present day. The smallest village in England contains at least one ' card-cutter,' a person who pretends to presage future events by studying the acci- dental combinations of a pack of cards. In London, the name of these fortune-tellers is legion, some of greater, some of lesser repute and px'eteusions : some willing to draw the curtains of destiny for a sixpence, others unap- pi'oachable except by a previously paid fee of from one to three guineas. And it must not be supposed that all of those persons are deliberate cheats ; the majority of them ' believe in the cards ' as firmly as the silly simpletons who em- ploy and pay them. Moreover, besides those who make their livelihood by ' card-cutting,' there are numbers of others, who, possessing a smattering of the art, daily refer to the paste- board oracles, to learn their fate and guide their conduct. And when a ticklish point arises, one of those crones will consult another, and then, if the two cannot pierce the mysterious combi- nation, they wiU call in a professed mistress of the art, to throw a gleam of light on the dark- ness of the future. In short, there are very few individuals among the lower classes in England who do not know something respecting the cards in their divinatory aspect, even if it be no more than to distinguish the lucky from the unlucky ones ; and it is quite common to hear a person's complexion described as being of a heart, or club colour. For these reasons, the writer — for the first time as he believes — has applied the 281 FOLK-IOBB OF PLAYING CARDS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. FOLK-IOEE OF PLATING CAEDS. wcU-kuowii term folk-lore to tliis system of divi- nation by playing cards, so extensively known and so continually practised in the British dominions. Tlie art of cartomancy, or divination by play- ing-cards, dates from an early period of their obscure history. In the museum of Nantes there is a painting, said to be by Van Eyck, repre- senting Philippe le Bon, Archduke of Austria, and subsequently King of Spain, consulting a fortune-teller by cards. This picture, of which a transcript is here given, cannot be of a later date than the fifteenth century. When the art was introduced into England is unknown ; probably, however, the earliest printed notice of it in this country is the following curious story, extracted from llowland's Judicial Astrology Condemned : ' Cuife, an excellent Grecian, and secretary to the Earl of Essex, was told, twenty years before his death, that he should come to an untimely end, at which Cuffe laughed, and in a scornful manner intreated the soothsayer to shew him in what manner he should come to his end, who condescended to him, and calling for cards, intreated Cuffe to draw out of the pack any three which pleased him. He did so, and drew three knaves, and laid them on the table by the wizard's direction, who then told him, if he desired to see the sum of his bad fortune, to take up those cards. Cuffe, as he was prescribed, took up the first card, and looking on it, he saw the portraiture of himself cap-a-pie, having men encompassing him with bills and halberds. Then he took up the second, and there he saw the judge THE ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA CONSULTING A FORTUNE-TELLER. that sat upon him ; and taking up the last card, he saw Tyburn, the place of his execution, and the hangman, at which he laughed heartily. But many years after, being condemned, he remem- bered and declared this prediction.' The earliest work on cartomancy was written or compiled by one Francesco Marcolini, and printed at Venice in 1540. There are many modern French, Italian, and German works on the subject ; but, as far as the writer's knowledge extends, there is not an English one. The sys- tem of cartomancy, as laid down in those works, is veiy different from that used in England, both as regards the individual interpretations of the cards, and the general method of reading or deciphering their combinations. The English system, however, is used in all British settle- ments over the globe, and has no doubt been carried thither by soldiers' wives, who, as is well known to the initiated, have ever been considered peculiarly skilful practitioners of the art. In- 282 deed, it is to a soldier's wife that this present exposition of the art is to be attributed. Many years ago the exigencies of a military life, and the ravages of a pestilential epidemic, caused the writer, then a puny but not very yoimg child, to be left for many months in charge of a jjri- vate soldiei"'s wife, at an out-station in a distant land. The poor woman, though childless herself, proved worthy of the confidence that was placed in her. She was too ignorant to teach her charge to read, yet she taught him the only ac- complishment she possessed, — the art of ' cutting cards,' as she termed it ; the word cartomancy, in all probability, she had never heard. And though it has not fallen to the writer's lot to practise the art professionally, yet he has not forgotten it, as the following interpretations of the cards will testify. DIAMONDS. King. A man of very fan- complexion; quick to anger, but soon appeased. FOLK-LORE OF PLATING CARDS. FEBRUAEY 21. FOLK-LOEE OP PLATING CARDS. Queen. A very fair ■woman, fond of gaiety, and a coquette. Knave. A selfish and deceitful relative ; fair and false. Ten. Money. Success in honourable business. Nine. A roving disposition, combined with honour- able and successfiil adventure in foreign lands. Eight. A happy prudent marriage, though rather late in life. Seven. Satire. Scandal. Unpleasant business mat- ters. Six. Marriage early in life, succeeded by widow- hood. Five. Unexpected news, geuerally of a good kind. Four. An unfaithftd friend. A secret betrayed. Trey. Domestic troubles, quarrels and unhappiuess. Deuce. A clandestine engagement. A card of caution. Ace. A wedding ring. An offer of marriage. King. A fair, but not veiy fair, complexioned man ; good natured, but rather obstinate, and, when angered, not easily appeased. Queen. A woman of the same complexion as the king ; faithful, prudent, and affectionate. KnaiK. An unselfish relative. A sincere friend. Ten. Health and happiness, with many children. Nine. Wealth. High position in society. The wish-card. Eight. Fine clothes. Pleasure. Mixing in good so- ciety. Going to balls, theatres, &c. Seven. Many good friends. Six. Honourable courtship. Five. A present. Four. Domestic troubles caused by jealousy. Trey. Poverty, shame and sorrow, caused by impru- dence. A card of caution. Deuce. Success in life, position in society, and a hajipy marriage, attained by virtuous dis- cretion. Ace. The house of the person consulting the decrees of fate. SPADES. King. A man of very dark complexion, ambitious and unscrupulous. Queen. A very dark complexioned woman, of mali- cious disposition. A widow. Knave. A lawyer. A person to be shunned. Ten. Disgrace ; crime ; imprisonment. Death on the scaffold. A card of caution. Nine. Grief ; ruin ; sickness ; death. Eight. Great danger from imprudence. A card of caution. Seven. Unexpected poverty caused by the death of a relative. A lean sorrow. Six. A child. To the unmarx'ied a card of cau- tion. Five. Great danger from giving way to bad temper. A card of caution. Four. Sickness. Trey. A journey by land. Tears. Deuce. A removal. Ace. Death ; malice ; a duel ; a general misfortune. King. A dark complexioned man, though not so dark as the king of spades ; upright, true, and affectionate. Queen. A woman of the same complexion, agreeable, genteel, and witty. Knave. A sincere, but rather hasty-tempered friend. Ten. Uncxiiccted wealth, through the death of a relative. A fat sorrow. Nhie. Danger caused by di-unkenness. A card of caution. Eight. Danger from covetousness. A card of caution. Seven. A prison. Danger arising from the opposite sex. A card of caution. Six. Competence by hard-working industry. Five. A happy, though not wealthy marriage. Four. Danger of misfortunes caused by inconstancy, or capricious temper. A card of caution. Trey. Quarrels. Or in reference to time may signify three years, three months, three weeks, or three days. It also denotes that a person will be married more than once. Deuce. Vexation, disappointment. Ace. A letter. The foregoing is merely the alphabet of the art ; the letters, as it were, of the sentences formed by the various combinations of the cards. A general idea only can be given here of the manner in which those prophetic sentences are formed. The person who desires to explore the hidden mysteries of fate is represented, if a male by the king, if a female by the queen, of the suit which accords with his or her com- plexion. If a married woman consults the cards, the king of her own suit, or complexion, repre- sents her husband ; but with single women, the lover, either in esse or fosse, is represented by his own colour ; and all cards, when representing persons, lose their own normal significations. There are exceptions, however, to these general rules. A man, no matter what his complexion, if he wear uniform, even if he be the negro cymbal-player in a regimental band, can be represented by the king of diamonds : — note, the dress of policemen and volunteers is not con- sidered as uniform. On the other hand, a widow, even if she be an albiness, can be represented only by the queen of spades. The ace of hearts always denoting the house of the person consulting the decrees of fate, some general rules are applicable to it. Thus the ace of clubs signifying a letter, its position, either before or after the ace of heai-ts, shews whether the letter is to be sent to or from the house. The ace of diamonds, when close to the ace of hearts, foretells a wedding in the house ; but the ace of spades betokens sickness and death. The knaves represent the thoughts of their respective kings and queens, and consequently the thoughts of the persons whom those kings and queens represent, in accordance with their complexions. For instance, a young lady of a rather but not decidedly dark complexion, repre- sented by the queen of clubs, when consulting the cards, may be shocked to find her fair lover (the king of diamonds) flirting with a wealthy widow (the queen of spades, attended by the ten of diamonds), but will be reassured by finding his thoughts (the knave of diamonds) in combi- nation with a letter (ace of clubs), a wedding ring (ace of diamonds), and her house (the ace of hearts) ; clearly signifying that, though he is actually flirting with the rich widow, he is, nevertheless, thinking of sending a letter, with an offer of marriage, to the young lady herself. And look, where are her own thoughts, repre- sented by the knave of clubs ; they are far away with the old lover, that dark man (king of spades) who, as is plainly shewn by his being 283 FOLK-LOEE OF PLAYING CAEDS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. GEORGE WASHINGTON. attended by the nine of diamonds, is prospering at the Australian diggings or elsewhere. Let us sbullle the cards onee more, and see if the dark man, at the distant diggings, ever thinks of his old llame, the elub-complexioued young lady in England. IS'o ! he does not. ISere are his thoughts (the knave of spades) directed to this fair, but rather gay and coquettish -woman (the queen of diamonds) ; they are separated but by a few hearts, one of them, the sixth (honourable courtship), shewing the excellent imderstanding that exists between them. Count, now, from the six of hearts to the ninth card from it, and lo ! it is a wedding ring (the ace of diamonds) ; they will be married before the expiration of a twelvemonth. The general mode of manipulating the cards, when fortune-telling, is very simple. The person, who is desirous to know the future, after shuffling the cai'ds ad lihitum, cuts the pack into three parts. The seer, then, taking up these parts, lays the cards out, one by one, face upwards, upon the table, sometimes in a cir- cular form, but oftener in rows consisting of nine cards in each row. Nine is the mystical number. Every nine consecutive cards form a separate combination, complete in itself; yet, like a word in a sentence, no more than a frac- tional part of the grand scroll of fate. Again, every card, something like tlie octaves in music, is en rapport with the ninth card from it ; and these ninth cards form other complete combi- nations of nines, yet parts of the general whole. The nine of hearts is termed the ' wish-card.' After the general fortune has been told, a sepa- rate and different manipulation is performed, to learn if the pryer into futurity will obtain a particular wish ; and, from the position of the wish-card in the pack, the required answer is deduced. In conclusion, a few words must be said on the professional fortune-tellers. That they are, gene- rally speaking, wilful impostors is perhaps true. Yet, paradoxical though it may appear, the writer feels bound to assert that those ' card-cutters ' whose practice lies among the lowest classes of society, really do a great deal of good. Few know what the lowest classes in our large towns suffer when assailed by mental affliction. They are, in most instances, utterly destitute of the con- solations of religion, and incapable of sustained thought. Accustomed to live from hand to mouth, their whole existence is bound up in the present, and they have no idea of the healing effects of time. Their ill-regulated passions brook no self- denial, and a predominant element of self rules their confused minds. They know of no future, they think no other human being ever sviffered as they do. As they term it themselves, ' they are upset.' They perceive no resource, no other remedy than a leap from the nearest bridge, or a dose of arsenic from the first chemist's shop. Haply some friend or neighbour, one who has already suffered and been relieved, takes the wretched creature to a fortune- teller. The seeress at once perceives that her client is in distress, and, shrewdly guessing the cause, pretends that she sees it all in the cards. Having thus asserted her superior intelli- 284 ^ gence, she affords her sympathy and consola- tion, and points to hope and a happy future ; blessed hope ! though in the form of a greasy pla3'ing card. The sufferer, if not cured, is re- lieved. The lacerated wounds, if not healed, are at least dressed ; and, in all probability, a suicide or a murder is prevented. Scenes of this cha- racter occur every day in the meaner parts of London. Unlike the witches of the olden time, the fortune-tellers are generally esteemed and re- spected in the districts in which they live and practise. And, besides that which has already been stated, it will not be difficult to discover sufficient reasons for this respect and esteem. The most ignorant and depraved have ever a lurking respect for morality and virtue ; and the fortune-tellers are shrewd enough to know and act upon this feeling. They always take care to point out what they term ' the cards of caution,' and impressively warn their clients from falling into the dangers those cards foreshadow, but do not positively foretell, for the dangers may be avoided by prudence and circumspection. By referring to the preceding significations of the cards, it will be seen that there are cards of caution against dangers arising from drunken- ness, covetousness, inconstancy, caprice, evil temper, illicit love, clandestine engagements, &c. Consequently the fortune-tellers are the moralists, as well as the consolers of the lower classes. They supply a want that society either cannot or will not do. If the great gulf which exists between rich and poor cannot be filled up, it would be well to try if, by any process of moral engineering, it could be bridged over. FEBRUARY 22. Saiuts Thalasius and Liinneus, 5th century. St Bara- dat, 5tb century. St Margaret, of Cortona, 1297. Born. — Dr Richard Price, statist, 1723, Tynton; George Washington, President of the UnitedStates, 1731, Bridge's Creeh, Virginia; Charles Duke of Richmond, 1735; Rev. Gilbert "Wakefield, classical scholar, 1756, Nottingham. Died. — David II. (of Scotland), 1371, Edinburgh Caslk; Frederick I. (of Tuscany), 1609 ; Frederick Ruysch, anatomist, 1639, The Hague ; James Barry, painter, 1806, Marylebone ; Smithson Tennant, chemist, 1815, Boulogne; Dr Adam Ferguson, historian, 1816, St An- drew's; Rev. Sydney Smith, wit and Zi'^^erator, 1845, St George's, Ilanover-square. GEORGE WASHINGTON. ' George AVashington, without the genius of Julius Cgesar or ISfapoleon Bonaparte, has a far purer fame, as his ambition was of a higher and holier nature. Instead of seeking to raise his own name, or seize supreme power, he devoted his whole talents, military and civil, to the esta- blishment of the independence and the perpetuity of the liberties of his own country. In modern history no man has done such great things with- out the soil of selfishness or the stain of a gro- velling ambition. Caesar, Cromwell, Napoleon attained a higher elevation, but the love of GEOKGE -WASHINGTON. FEBEUAEY 22. GEOEGE -WASHINGTON. dominion vrsis the spur that drove them on. John Hampden, William Eusseli, Algernon Sydney, may have had motives as pure, and an ambition as sustained ; but they fell. To George Washington alone in modern times has it been given to accomplish a -wonderful revolution, and yet to remain to all future times the theme of a people's gratitude, and an example of virtuous and beneficent power.' — _EarZ Russell : Life and Times of Charles James Fox. The pre-eminence here accorded to Washing- ton will meet -with universal approval. He clearly and unchallengeably stands out as the purest great man in universal history. While America feels a just pride in having given him birth, it is something for England to know that his ancestors lived for generations upon her soil. His great-grandfather emigrated about 1657, having previously lived in Northamptonshire. The Washingtons were a family of some account. Their history has been traced by the Eev. J. jN". Simpkinson, rector of Brington, near North- ampton, -with tolerable clearness, in a volume entitled The Washingtons, published in 1860, but more concisely in a speech -which he delivered at a meeting of American citizens in London, on Washington's birthday, two years later : ' The Washingtons,' he says, ' were a Northern family, who lived some time in Durham, and also in Lancashire. It was from Lancashire that they came to Northamptonshire. It is a plea- sure to me to be able to point out what induced them to come to Northamptonshire. The uncle of the first Lawrence AVashington -was Sir Thomas Eitson, one of the great merchants -who, in the time of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. , developed the wool trade of the country. That wool trade depended mainly on the growth of wool, and the creation of sheep farms in the midland counties. I have no doubt, therefore, that the reason -why Lawrence Washington settled in Northamptonshire, leaving his own profession, which was that of a barrister, -was that he might superintend his uncle's transac- tions -with the sheep-proprietors in that county. La-wrence Washington soon became Mayor of GKOECtE WASHINGTON. Northampton, and at the time of tlic dissolution of the monasteries, being identified -with the cause of civil and religious liberty, he gained a grant of some monastic lands. Sulgrave was granted to him. It will be interesting to point out the connexion -which existed between him and my parish of Brington. In that parish is situated Althorp, the seat of the Spencers. The Lady Spencer of that day was herself a Kitson, daughter of Washington's uucle,and the Spencers were great promoters of the sheep-farming move- ment. Thus, then, there was a very plain con- nexion between the Washingtons and the Spen- cers. The rector of the parish at that time was Dr Layton, who -was Lord Cromwell's prime commissioner for the dissolution of monasteries. Therefore we see another cause why the lands of Sulgrave were granted to Lawrence Wash- ington. For three generations they remained at'Sulgrave, taking rank among the nobility and 285 GEOBQE WASHINGTON. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EEV. SYDNEY SMITH. gentry of the county. At the end of three generations tlieir fortunes failed. They were obliged to sell Sulgrave, and they then retired to our parish of 13rington, being, as it were, under the wing of the Spencer family. . . . From this depression the Washiugtons recovered by a singu- lar marriage. The ehlest son of the family had married the half-sister of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, which at this time was not an alli- ance above the pretensions of the Washingtous. Thej" rose again into great prosperity About the emigrant I am not able to discover much : except that he, above all others of the fimiily, continued to be on intimate terms with the Spencers down to the very eve of the civil war ; that he was knighted by James I. in 1623 ; and that we possess in our county not only the tomb of his father, but that of the wife of his youth, who lies buried at Islip-ou-the-Neu. AYhen the civil war broke out, the Washingtous took the side of the King You all know the name of Sir Henry Washington, who led the storming party at Bristol, and defended Worcester. "We have it, on the contemporary authority of Lloyd, that this Colonel Washing- ton was so well known for his bravery, that it became a proverb in the army when a difficulty arose : " Away with it, quoth Washington." The emigrant who left England in 1657, I leave to be traced by historians on the other side of the Atlantic' In Brington Church are two sepulchral stones, one dated 1616 over the grave of the father of the emigrant, in which his arms appear impaled with those of his wife ; the other covering the remains of the uncle of the same person, and presenting on a brass the simple family shield, with the extraneous crescent appropriate to a younger brother. Of the latter a transcript is here given, that the reader may be enabled to ex- Tkikik ! II! ercise a judgment in the question which has been raised as to the origin of the American flag. It is supposed that the stars and stripes which figure in that national blazon were taken from the shield of the illustrious general, as a compli- ment no more than due to him. In favour of this idea it is to be remarked that the stripes of the Washingtous are alternate gules and white, as are those of the national flag ; the stars in 286 chief, moreover, have the parallel peculiarity of being five-pointed, six points being more common. The scene at the parting of Washington with his officers at the conclusion of the war of Inde- pendence, is feelingly described by Mr Irving : ' In the course of a few days Washington pre- pared to depart for Annapolis, where Congress was assembling, with the Intention of asking leave to resign his command. A barge was in waiting about noon on the 4th of December at Whitehall ferry, to convey him across the Hudson to Paulus Hook. The principal officers of the army assembled at Fraunces' tavern in the neigh- bourhood of the ferry, to take a final leave of him. On entering the room, and finding him- self surrounded by his old companions in arms, who had shared with him so many scenes of hard- ship, difficulty, and danger, his agitated feelings overcame his usual self-command. Filling a glass of wine, and turning upon them his benignant but saddened countenance, " With a heart full of love and gratitude," said he, " I now take leave of you, most devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honourable." Having drunk this farewell benediction, he added with emotion, " I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but I shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand." General Knox, who was the nearest, was the first to advance. Washington, afiected even to tears, grasped his hand and gave him a brother's em- brace. In the same afl"ectionate manner he took leave severally of the rest. Not a word was spoken. The deep feeling and manly tenderness of these veterans in the parting moment could not find utterance in words. Silent and solemn they followed their loved commander as he left the room, passed through a corps of light infantry, and proceeded on foot to Whitehall ferry. Having entered the barge, he turned to them, took oft' his hat, and waved a silent adieu. They replied in the same manner, and having watched the barge until the intervening point of the battery shut it from sight, retui'ued still solemn and silent to the place where they had assembled.' THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. The witty canon of St Paul's (he did not like to be so termed) expired on the 22nd of February 1845, in his seventy-fourth year, at his house, No. 56, Green-street, Grosvenor-square. He died of water on the chest, consequent upon disease of the heart. He bore his sufierings with calmness and resignation. The last person he saw was his brother Bobus, who survived him but a few days, — literally fulfilling the petition in a letter written by Sydney two-and-thirty years before, ' to take care of himself, and wait for him.' He adds : ' We shall both be a brown infragrant powder in thirty or forty years. Let us contrive to last out for the same time, or nearly the same time.' His daughter, Lady Holland, thus touch- iugly relates an incident of his last days : ' My father died in peace with himself and with aU the world ; anxious to the last to pro- mote the comfort and happiness of others. He REV, SYDNEY SMITH. FEBEUAEY 23. FRENCH DESCENT IN WALES. sent messages of kindness and forgiveness to the fe^ lie thought had injured him. Almost his last act was bestowing a small living of £120 per annum on a poor, worthy, and friendless clergyman, who had lived a long life of struggle with poverty on £40 per annum. Full of happi- REV. SYDNEY SMITH. ness and gratitude, he entreated he might be allowed to see my father ; but the latter so dreaded any agitation, that ho most unwillingly consented, saying, " Then he must not thank me; I am too weak to bear it." He entered — my father gave him a few words of advice — the clergyman silently pressed his hand, and blessed his death-bed. Surely, such blessings are not given in vain.' Of aU the estimates which have been written of the genius and character of the Eev. Sydney Smith, none exceeds in truthful illustration that which Earl EusseU has given in the Memoirs, ^c, of Tliomas Moore : 'His (Sydney Smith's) great delight was to produce a succession of ludicrous images : these followed each other with a rapidity that scarcely left time to laugh; he himself laughing louder, and with more enjoyment than any one. This electric contact of mirth came and went with the occasion ; it cannot be re- peated or reproduced. Anything would give occasion to it. For instance, having seen in the newspapers that Sir ^neas Mackintosh was come to town, he drew such a ludicrous caricature of Su- -S^neas and Lady Dido, for the amusement of their namesake, that Sir James Mackintosh rolled on the floor in fits of laughter, and Sydney Smith, striding across him, exclaimed " Euat Justitia." His powers of fun were, at the same time, united with the strongest and most prac- tical common sense. So that, while he laughed away seriousness at one minute, he destroyed in the next some rooted prejudice which had braved for a thousand years the battle of reason and the breeze of ridicule. The Letter's of Peter Flymley bear the greatest likeness to his conversation ; the description of Mr Isaac Hawkins Brown dancing at the court of Naples, in a volcano coat, with lava buttons, and the comparison of Mr Canning to a large blue-bottle fly, with its para- sites, most resemble the pictures he raised up in social conversation. It may be averred for certain, that in this style he has never been equalled, and I do not suppose he will ever be surpassed.' ' Sydney,' says Moore, ' is, in his way, inimi- table ; and as a conversational wit, beats all the men I have ever met. Curran's fancy went much higher, but also much loioer. Sydney, in his gayest flights, though boisterous, is never vulgar.' It was for the first time learned, from his daughter's book, in what poverty Sydney Smith spent many years of his life, first in London, afterwards at a Yorkshire parsonage. It was not, however, that painful kind of poverty which struggles to keep up appearances. He whoUy repudiated appearances, confessed poverty, and only strove, by self-denial, frugality, and every active and economic device, to secure as much comfort for his family as could be legitimately theirs. In perfect conformity with this conduct, was that most amusing anecdote of his prepara- tions to receive a great lady — paper lanterns on the evergreens, and a couple of jack-asses with antlers tied on to represent deer in the adjacent paddock. He delighted thus to mock aristocratic pretensions. The writer has heard (he believes) an inedited anecdote of him, with regard to an over-flourishing family annonce in a newspaper, which would have made him out to be a man of high grade in society. ' We are not great people at all,' said he, ' we are common honest people — people that pay our bills.' In the like spirit was his answer to a proposing county historian, who inquired for the Smythe arms—' The Smythes never had any arms, but have always sealed theu- letters with their thumbs.' Even when a little gleam of prosperity enabled him at last to think that his family wanted a carriage, observe the philosophy of his procedure: 'After diligent search, I discovered in the back settlemeiits of a York coachmaker an ancient green chariot, sup- posed to have been the earliest invention of the kind. I brought it home in triumph to my ad- miring family. Being somewhat dilapidated, the village tailor lined it, the village blacksmith repaired it ; nay, (but for Mrs. Sydney's earnest entreaties,) we believe the village painter would have exercised his genius upon the exterior ; it escaped this danger, however, and the result wa,s wonderful. Each year added to its charms, it grew younger and younger ; a new wheel, a new spring; I christened it the " Immortal ; " it was known aU over the neighbourhood ; the village boys cheered it, and the village dogs barked at it ; but " Faber meoefortuncB " was my motto, and we had no false shame.' FRENCH DESCENT IN WALES, This day is memorable as being that on which, in the year 1797, the last invasion by an enemy was made on the shores of the island of Great Britain. At ten o'clock in the morning, three ships of war and a lugger were seen to pass ' the ^ 287 FEENCH DESCENT IN "WALES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. FAMILIAE NAMES. Bishops '—a group of rocks off St David's Head in Pombrokesliiro. Tlu> ships sailed under Eng- lish colours; but the gentleman by Avhoni they •were discovered had been a sailor in his youth, and readily recognised them as French men-of-war with troops ^on board. He at once despatched one of his domestics to alarm the inhabitants of St David's, while he himself watched the enemy's motions along the coast towards Fishguard. At this latter town the fort was about to tire a salute to the British tlag, when the English colours were struck on board the Heet, and the French ensign hoisted instead. Then the true character of the ships was known, and the utmost alarm prevailed. Messengers were despatched in all directions to give notice of a hostile invasion ; the numbers of the eneni}^ were fearfully exaggerated ; vehicles of all kinds were employed in transporting articles of value into the interior. The inhabitants of St David's mustered in considerable numbers ; the lead of the cathedral roof was distributed to six blacksmiths and cast into bullets ; all the pow- der to be obtained was divided amongst those who possessed fire-arms ; and then the whole body marched to meet the enemy. On the 23rd, seve- ral thousand persons, armed with muskets, swords, pistols, straightened scythes on poles, and almost every description of ofiensive weapon that could be obtained, had assembled. The euemj^, mean- while, whose force consisted of 600 regular troops and 800 convicts and sweepings of the French prisons, had effected a landing unopposed at Pencaer, near Fishguard. About noon on the following day the ships that had brought them sailed unexpectedly, and thus the troops were cut off from all means of retreat. Towards evening all the British forces that could be col- lected, consisting of the Castlemartin yeomanry cavalry, the Cardiganshire militia, two companies of fencible infantry, and some seamen and artil- lery, under the command of Lord Cawdor, arrived on the scene, and formed in battle array on the road near Fishguard. Shortly afterwards, how- ever, two officers were sent by the French com- mander (Tate) with an offer to surrender, on the condition that they should be sent back to Brest by the British Government. The British com- mander replied that an immediate and uncon- ditional surrender was the only terms he should allow, and that unless the enemy capitulated by two o'clock, and delivered up their arms, he woidd attack them with 10,000 men. The 10,000 men existed, for available purposes, only in the speech of the worthy commander ; but the French general did not seem disposed to be very inquisi- tive, and the capitulation was then signed. On the morning of the 25th the enemy accordingly laid down their arms, and were marched under escort to various prisons at Pembroke, Haverford- west, Milford, and Carmarthen. Five hundred were confined in one jail at Pembroke ; of these one hundred succeeded in making their escape through a subterranean passage, 180 feet long, which they had dug in the earth at a depth of three feet below the surface. Many wonderful stories are told in reference to this invasion. What follows is related in Tales and Traditions of Tenby : ' A tall, stout, masculine-looking female, named Jemima Kicho- 288 las, took a pitchfork, and boldly marched towards Pencaer to meet the foe ; as she approached, she saw twelve Frenchmen in a field ; she at once advanced towards them, and either by dint of her courage, or rhetoric, she had the good fortune to conduct them to, and confine them in, the guard- house at Fishguard.' . . . . ' It is asserted that Merddin the prophet foretold that, when the French should land here, they would drink of the waters of Finon Crib, and would cut down a hazel or nut tree that grew on the side of Finon Well, along with a white-thorn. The French drank of that water, and cut down the trees as prophesied. We must also give our readers an account of Enoch Lake's dream and vision. About thirty years before the French invasion, this man lived near the spot where they landed. One night, he dreamed that the French were landing on Carreg Gwasted Point ; he told his wife, and the impression was so strong, that he arose, and went to see what was going on, when he distinctly saw the French troops land, and heard their brass drums. This he told his wife and many others, who would not believe him till it had really happened.' FAMILIAR NAMES. In the hearty familiarity of old English man- ners, it was customary to call all intimates and friends by the popular abbreviations of their Christian names. It may be, therefore, con- sidered as a proof at once of the popularity of poets and the love of poetry, that every one who gained any celebrity was almost invariably called Tom, Dick, Harry, &c. Heywood in his curious work, the SierarcMe of Blessed Angels, com- plains of this as an indignity to the worshippers of the Muse. ' Our modern poets to that end are driven, Those names are curtailed which they first had given. And, as we -ndshed to have their memories drowned, We scarcely can afford them half their soimd. Greene, who had in both academies ta'en Degree of Master, yet conld never gain To be called more than Eobin ; who, had he Protest aught but the muse, served and been free After a seven years' 'prenticeship, might have, With credit too, gone Robert to his grave. IMarlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit, Could ne'er attain beyond the name of Kit ; Although his Hero and Leander did Merit adcUtion rather. Famous Kid Was called but Tom. Tom Watson, though he wrote Able to make Apollo's self to dote Upon his muse, for all that he could strive, Yet never could to his fidl name arrive. Tom Nash, in his tune of no small esteem, Could not a second syllable redeem ; Excellent Beaumont, in the foremost rank Of th' rarest wits, was never more than Frank. Mellifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting quill Commanded mirth or passion, was but Will. And famous Jonson, though his learned pen Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben. Fletcher and Webster, of that learned pack None of the mean'st, yet neither was but Jack. Decker's but Tom, nor May, nor Middleton, And here's now but Jack Ford that once was John. DEATH OF SIE JOSHUA EEYNOLDS. FEBRUAEY 23. DEATH OF SIR JOSHUA EETNOLDS. Soon after, however, he takes the proper view of the subject, and attributes the custom to its right cause. ' r, for my part, Think others wheat they please, accept that heart That coiu'ts my love in most familiar jihrase ; And that it takes not from my pains or praise, If any one to me so bluntly come ; I hold he loves me best that caUs me Tom. ' FEBRUARY 23. St Serenus, a gardener, martyr, 307. St Boisil, prior of Melro^s, 664. St Milburge, virgin, abbess in Shrop- sbire, 7th century. Dositheus, monk of Palestine. Peter Damian, cardinal, 1072. Born. — Samuel Pepys, diarist, Secretary to the Admi- ralty, 1632, Brampton (or Tendon) ; William Mason, poet, 1725, Hull; Prince Henry Benedict Stuart, Car- dinal York, 1725. Died. — Pope Eugenius IV., 1447; Sir Thomas AVyatt, beheaded, 1555, Tawer ; Stanislaus I. (of Poland), 1766; Sir Joshua Picynolds, painter, 1792, Leicester-square ; Dr Joseph Warton, Professor of Poetry, Oxen, 1800, Wick- ham, Ilants ; Joanna Baillie, poet and dramatist, 1851, llampstead. DEATH OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. For some time previoiis to his decease this ^reat painter felt that his end was approaching?. The failure of his powers is touchingly recorded. In July 1789, when Sir Joshua had nearly finished the portrait of Lady Beauchamp (the last female portrait he ever painted), his ej^esight was so aflected that he found it difficult to proceed. He laid down his pencil, and sat a while in mute con- sideration. In his pocket-book is this note of the calamity : ' Monday, the 1.3th of July, — prevented bj^ my eye beginning to be obscured.' He soon totally lost it, and then violently apprehended that the other was going too. This was not the case ; but the dread of what might happen if he used it much, entirely deterred him from either painting, writing, or reading : he amused himself by sometimes cleaning or mending a picture, for his ruling passion still continued in force, and he enjoyed his pictures as much as ever. His health Avas perfect, and his spirits were good ; he enjoyed com]mny in a quiet way, and loved a game at cards as well as ever. Sir Joshua's niece, Miss Palmer, speaks, in March 1790, of his still painting ; another authority dates his entire cessation from work in November 1791 : ' His last male portrait was that of Charles James Fox ; and when the final touches were given to this picture, the hand of Iteynolds feU to rise no more.' Sir Joshua now became much depressed in spirits ; a tumour and inflammation above the eye that had perished could not be dispersed, and he dreaded that the other eye might be aflected. He grew melancholy and sorrowfully silent. A concealed malady was sapping his life and spirits. Mr Burke tells us that the great painter's ' illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheerful fortitude, without the least mixture of anything irritable or querulous, agreeable to the i)lacid and even tenor of his whole life. He 19 had, from the beginning of his malady, a distinct view of his dissolution, which he contemplated with an entire composure, that nothing but the innocence, integrity, and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected submission to the will of Pro- vidence, could bestow.' ' I have been fortunate,' said Eeynolds, ' in long good health and constant success, and I ought not to complain. I know that all things on earth must have an end.' With these simple words of resignation. Sir Joshua expired, without any visible symptoms of pain, at his house in Leicester-square, on the night of February 23, 1792, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. Next day his body was opened by Mr Hunter, the eminent surgeon, when his liver was found to have become preternaturally enlarged, from about five pounds to nearly eleven pounds. It was also somewhat scirrhous. The optic nerve of the left eye was quite shrunk, and more flimsy than it ought to have been ; the other, STAIRCASE IN SIE JOSHUA REYNOLDS S HOUSE, LEICESTER-SQUAEE. which Sir Joshua was so apprehensive of losing, was not affected. In his brain was found more water than is usual with men of his age. Malone tells us that Eeynolds had long enjoyed such constant health, looked so young, and was so active, that he thought, though sixty-nine years old, he was as likely to live eight or ten years longer as any of his younger friends. The remains of the illustrious painter, after lying in state in the great room of the lloyal Academy at Somerset House, were interred, with much ceremony, in St Paul's Cathedral, in a grave in the south aisle of the crypt ; in the nave above is a marble portrait-statue of Eng- land's finest painter, Reynolds, by her best sculptor, Flaxman. At the close of the funeral, 289 CATO STEEET CONSriEACY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SCENT BALLS AND POMANDEES. j\Ir Burlvo, who was one of Sir Josluia's execu- tors, attomptod to thank the members of the Eoyal Academy for the respect shewn to the remains of their hvte President ; but the orator's feelings couhi only find vent in tears — he could not utter a Avord. A memorial print, engraved by Bartolozzi. was presented to each of the gen- tlemen attending the funeral. ' Sir Joshua Keynolds,' says Burke, ' was on very many accounts one of the most memorable men of his time. He was the first Englishman who added the praise of the elegant arts to the other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, in facilitj', in happy invention, in the richness and harmonj' of colouring, he was equal to the greatest inventors of the renowned ages He had too much merit not to excite some jealousy, too much innocence to provoke any enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow.' CATO-STREET CONSPIRACY. The popular discontents following the close of the great war — after efflorescing in radicalism, ]\ianchester meetings, street oratory, Cobbett's Seqisiers, &c. — came to a sort of head in the early part of 1820. A combination of mean men was then foi'med, with a view to the eifecting a revolution by means of sanguinary violence. Tlie chief man concerned was one named Arthur Thistlewood, who had been a soldier, who had been involved in a trial for sedition, but ac- quitted, and who had afterwards suffered a year's imprisonment for sending a challenge to the minister, Lord Sidmouth. He was a desperate man, animated by a spirit of revenge which over- powered reason. It seemed to him not impos- sible, by some such stroke as that contemplated in the Gunpowder Treason, to create a national con- fusion out of which a better government might be evoked ; and he found a number of extreme radicals, of like fortunes with himself, to join in his enterprise. In all such movements of the common sort of people, there are always some whose virtue does not enable them to resist bribery. The Government never remained un- acquainted with the conspiracies formed against it. Months before the development of the plot, it was fully known to the ministers, who, according to the wretched policy which necessity suggested to them, employed spies named Oliver and Edwards to stimulate its authors, so as to make them clearly amenable to the law. Thistlewood and a group of associates went on meeting in some den in Gray's Inn-lane, arranging their plans, unconscious of the traitors in their midst. Their main design was to assassinate the minis- ters, each in his own house ; but, at length learn- ing that there was to be a cabinet dinner at the house of Earl Harrowby, President of the Council, in Grosvenor-square, on the 23rd of February, they resolved to wait for it, Thistlewood remark- ing with savage glee, ' It will be a rare haul to murder them aU together.' It was arranged that some of the conspirators should watch Lord Harrowby's house ; one was to call and deliver a dispatch-box at the door : 290 the others were then to rush in, and having secured the servants, they were to assassinate the ministers as tliey sat at dinner ; bringing away as special trophies, tlie heads of Lord Sid- mouth and Lord Castlereagh, in two bags pro- vided for the purpose ! They were then to set fire to the cavalry barracks ; and the Bank of England and the Tower of London were to be taken by the people, who, it was hoped, would rise upon the spi'cad of the news. It can scarcely be believed that such a scheme should have been seriously planned in the metropolis only forty years since ; yet such was the fact. "With a view to the attack in Grosvenor-square, their place of meeting was a loft over a stable in Cato-street, near the Edgware-road. Here the conspirators having mustered to the number of twenty-four, took the precaution of placing one as a sentinel below, whilst they prepared for their dreadful work. Meanwhile, the ministers, fully apprised of what was going on, did not arrive at Lord Harrowby's : the Archbishop of York, who lived next door, happened to give a dinner-party at the same hour as that appointed at Lord Harrowby's, and the arrival of carriages at the Archbishop's deceived those of the conspirators who were on the watch in the square, and they did not discover their mistake until it was too late to give warning to their comrades assembled in Cato-street. Here, while the traitors were arming themselves by the light of one or two candles, a party of Bow-street officers, mounting by a ladder, forcibly entered the loft : the fore- most of them, in attempting to seize Thistlewood, was run by him through the body, and instantly fell ; the lights were extinguished, a few shots were exchanged, and Thistlewood and some of his companions escaped through a window at the back of the premises : nine were taken that evening, with their arms and ammunition ; and the intelligence was conveyed to the ministers, who had met at Lord Liverpool's, at Westminster, to await the result. A reward of £1,000 was imme- diately offered for the apprehension of Thistle- wood, and he was captured next morning, while in bed, at the house of a friend in Little Moor- fields. The conspirators were sent to the Tower, the last persons imprisoned in that fortress. On the 20th of AprU, Thistlewood was con- demned to death after three days' trial ; and on May 1, he and his four principal accomplices, — Ings, Brunt, Tidd, and Davidson, who had been severally tried and convicted, — were hanged at the Old Bailey. The remaining six pleaded guilty ; one received a pardon, and five were trans- ported for life. To efface recollection of the conspiracy, Cato-street has been re-named Homer- street. SCENT-BALLS AND POMANDERS. Among the minor objects of personal use which appear, from an inventory, to have belonged to Mar- garet de Bohun, daughter of Hiunphrey de Bohuu, Earl of Hereford and Essex, slain at the battle of Boroughbridge, March 16, 1321, is a 'poiime de aumbre,' or scent-ball, in the composition of which am- bergris probably formed a principal ingredient. We here learn also that a nutmeg was occasionally used for AN OLD ENGLISH NUESERY STORY. FEBEUARY 23. AN OLD ENGLISH NURSERY STORY. the like piu-pose ; it was set iu silver, decorated with stones aud pearls, and was evidently an ol:)ject rare and highly prized. Amongst the valuable effects of Henry V., according to the inventory taken A.D. 1423, are enumerated a musk-baU of gold, weighing eleven ounces, aud another of silver gilt. At a later period, the pomander was very commonly worn as the pen- dant of a lady's girdle. A receipt for compounding it may be found in the Treasury of Commodious Conceits, 1586. The orange appears to have been used as a poman- der soon after its introduction into England. Caven- dish describes Cardinal Wolsey entering a crowded chamber 'holding iu his hand a very fair orange, whereof the meat or substance within was taken out, and fiUed up again with the pai-t of a sponge, wherein was vinegar and other confections against the pesti- lent airs ; the which he most commonly smelt unto, passing among the press, or else he was pestered Avitli many suitors. ' Sir Thomas Gresham, iu his celebrated portrait by Sir Antonio More, holds in his left hand a small object resembling an orange, but which is a po- mander. This sometimes consisted of a dried Seville orange, stuffed with cloves aud other spices ; and being esteemed a fashionable preservative against in- fection, it frequently occm'S in old portraits, either suspended to the gii-dle or held in the hand. In the eighteenth century, the signification of this object had become so far forgotten, that, instead of poman- ders, bond fide oranges were introduced into poi-traits, a practice Avhich Goldsmith has happily satirized iu his Vicar of Wakefield, where seven of the Flam- boroughs are drawn with seven oranges, &c. When the pomander was made of silver, it was perforated with holes, to let out the scent. Hence the origin of the vinaigrette of our day. The earliest mention of coral is that which occurs in the inventory of Ahanore de Bohun, namely, the paternoster of coral, with gilded gaudeer (the larger beads), which belonged to Margaret de Bohim, and the three branches of coral which Alianore i^ossessed. The above use of coral explains its being worn, in later times, as an amulet, or defence against infection. MR FOX ; AN OLD ENGLISH NURSEllY STORY. In ii\i[x\iS'^Qa,Ye's Much Ado About Notliing, Benedict (Act I., Sc. 1) alludes to 'the old tale — it is not so, nor 'twas not so, but indeed God forbid it shoidd be so. ' It is believed by his laboiious commentator, Mr Halli- well, that Shakspeare here had in his recollection a simple English nursery story which ho had probably heard in his infancy at Stratford, and of which some memory still survives. The story is given by the learned commentator as follows : ' Once upon a time there was a yoimg lady, called Lady Mary, who had two brothers. One summer they all went to a country seat of theirs, which they had not before visited. Among the other gentry iu the neighbour- hood who came to see them, was a Mr Fox, a liachelor, with whom they, particularly the young lady, were much pleased. He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day that her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she determined to go thither; and accordingly set out unattended. When she arrived at the house, aud knocked at the door, no one answered. At length she opened it and went in ; over the portal of the hall was written, " Be bold, be bold — but not too bold, lest that your heart's blood should run cold." She opened it ; it was fuU of skeletons and tubs fidl of blood. She retreated in haste, and coming down stairs she saw Mr Fox advancing towards the house with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along a young lady by her hair. Lady Maiy had just time to shp down, and hide her- self under the stairs, before Mr Fox and his -sdctim arrived at the foot of them. As he piUled the young lady upstairs, she caught hold of one of the banis- ters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. Mr Fox cut it off with his sword : the hand and bracelet feU into Lady Mary's lap, who then contrived to escape unobserved, and got home safe to her bro- thers' house. After a few days, ]Mr Fox came to dine ■with them as usual. After dinner, when the guests began to amuse each other Avith extraordinary anec- dotes. Lady Mary at length said she would relate to them a remarkable dream she had lately had. ' ' 1 di-eamt," said she, "that as you, Mr Fox, had often invited me to go to yom- house, I would go there one morning. When I came to the house I knocked, but no one answered. When I opened the door, over the hall was written, ' Be bold, be bold — but not too bold.' But," said she, turning to Mr Fox, and smiling, "it is not so, nor it was not so. " Then she pursued the rest of the story, concluding at every tui-n with " It is not so, nor it was not so," till she came to the room full of dead bodies, when Mr Fox took up the burden of the tale, aud said, " It is not so, nor it was not so ; and God forbid it should be so," which he continues to repeat at every subsequent turn of the dreadful story, till she came to the circmnstance of the cutting off the young lady's hand, when, upon his saying as usual, "It is not so, nor it was not so; and God forbid it should be so," Lady Mary retorts, "But it is so, and it was so, and here's the hand I have to show;" at the same time producing the bracelet from her lap ; whereupon the guests drew their swords, and cut Mr Fox into a thousand pieces.' It is worthy of notice that the mysterious inscrip- tion seen by the lady in Mr Fox's house is identical with that represented by Spenser (Faerie Queen, III. xi. 54), as beheld by Britomart in ' the house of Busyrane, Where Love's spoyles are exprest. ' It occurs in the following stanza : ' And as she lookt about she did behold How over that same dore was likewise writ, Be bold, be bold, and everywhere Be bold; That much she mus'd, yet coidd not construe it By any ridling sldll or commune wit. At last she spyde at that rowme's upper end Another yron dorc, on which was writ, Be not too bold ; whereto, though she did bend Her earnest mind, yet wist not what it might intend. It cannot be said that there is much in the story of Mr Fox • but it is curious to find it a matter of fami- 291 MEMOKIALS OF HANDEL. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MEMORIALS OF HANDEL. liar knowledge to Uvo ^\Titln•s like Shaksiieare and Speusei- ; aud\vo learn from their allusions that, rude and simple as it is, it has existed for about three cen- turies, if not more. FEBRUARY 24. St Matthias, tlio Apostle, Colchis. Saints Montamis, Lucius, Fhivian, Julian, Victorious, Primolus, Khenus, and. Donatian, martyrs at Carthage, 259. St Pretex- tatus, archbishop of Rouen, martyr, about 585. St Lethard, bishop of Senlis, 596, Canterbury. St Etlicl- bert, first Christian king of England, 616. Robert of Arbrissel, 111. Born. — John Pious, Count of Mirandoln, 1463; Charles V. (of Spain), 1500, Ghent ; George Fredericic Handel, musical composer, 1684, Ilalle; James Ciuin, actor, 1693, Covent-garden ; Robert Lord Clive, conqueror of Bengal, 1726; Charles Lamb, humorous essayist, 1775, London; Robert Lord Gitiord, Master of the Rolls, 1779. Died. — Richard de la Pole, Francis Duke of Lorraine, and General de la Tremouille, killed at Pavia, 1525; Francis Duke of Guise, assassinated, 1563; James Earl of Dcrwentwater, beheaded, 1716; Joseph (of Portugal), 1777; Charles Buonaparte, 1785; Hon. Henry Caven- dish, amateur chemist, 1810 ; John Keats, poet, 1821, Rome: Thomas Coutts, banker, 1822 ; John VL (of Portugal), 1826. MEMORIALS OF HANDEL. George Frederick Handel, althougli a native of Germany (born at Halle, in Saxony, on the 24tli of February, IGSl), from Laving passed nearly tlie -whole of his life in England, and pro- duced in it all his great works, is almost claimed by us as an Englishman. When a child, he sacrificed his play-hours, and sometimes even his meals, to his passion for music, 'which was so successfully cultivated, that, when only ten years of ag?, he composed a set of sonatas, not without their value as pieces of music. At the outset of his professional life in 1703, he had nearly been lost to the world. It was at Hamburg that he got embroiled with Mattheson, an able musician, who violently assaulted him. A duel ensued, and nothing but a score, buttoned under Handel's coat, on whicli his antagonist's weapon broke, saved a life that was to prove of inestimable value. Handel was never married : the charms of his music impressed many beau- ties and singers in his favour ; but he shewed no disposition to avail himself of their partialities. His thoughts were nearly all absorljed by his art, and a high sense of moral propriety dis- tinctly marked his conduct through life. Handel, as a composer, was great in every style. In sacred music, especially of the choral kind, he throws at an immeasurable distance all who preceded and followed liim. Handel first arrived in London in 1710, and was soon honoured by the notice of Queen Anne. Aaron Hill was then manager of the opera, and his Rinaldo was set to music by Handel, and produced in March, 1711. At the peace of Utrecht, he composed for that event a Te Dciim and Jubilate ; and a pension of £200 was the reward of this service. In 1714, when the Elector of Hanover was placed on the British 293 throne, Handel, not having kept his promise to return to Hanover, durst not present himself at court : but he got over the dililculty by a plea- sant stratagem : his friend. Baron Kilmansegge, contrived that he shoiild meet the King, during a royal excursion on the Thames, with a band of wind instruments, playing the charming IVater JMusic, written for the occasion ; the composer was received again into favour, his pension was doubled ; and many years after, when appointed to teach tlie Princesses, Queen Caroline, consort of George II., added, another £200, making altogether £600 per annum, no small income a century ago. Next he became chapel-master to the Duke of Chandos, at Canons, and there lie produced most of his concertos, sonatas, lessons, and organ fugues ; besides his Acis and Galatea, for which Gay wrote the poetry. Then he carried out the conversion of the Italian Theatre into an Academy of Music ; he was engaged as manager, and pro- duced fifteen new operas ; but the Italians virulently opposed ' the German intruder ; ' the cabal became insupportable, and the great com- poser and able manager retired with a loss of £10,000 and broken health. He next attempted operas at Covent Garden Theatre, but this spe- culation proved equally unfortunate. He next gave Lent oratorios, but with no better success ; even his sublimest work, The Messiah, was ill attended and received in the metropolis, when first produced in 1741. These failures were caused by the hostility of the nobility, notwith- standing the patronage of the Eoyal family. He then took refuge in Ireland, where he began by performing The 3Iessiah for the benefit of the city prison. He returned to London in 1742, renewed his oratorios at Covent Garden Theatre, and henceforth was uniformly successful ; and he continued his oratorios with great profit nearly to the last day of his life. Handel died on a Good Friday (according to his own wish), April 13, 1759, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Late in life he was afflicted with blindness ; but he continued to perform and even composed pieces, and assisted at one of his oratorios only a week before his death. Handel will long be remembered for his muni- ficent aid to the Foundling Hospital in London. In 1749, he gave a performance of his own com- positions, by which the charity realized five hundred guineas, and every subsequent year he superintended the performance of The llessiah in the Foundling Hospital Chapel, which netted altogether £7,000 ; he also presented an organ, and bequeathed to the charity a fair copy of the score and parts of the oratorio of The Messiah. The memory of Handel has been preserved by a series of performances of his works under the roof which covers his dust. At a century from his birth, in 1784, was given the first Commemora- tion, zealovisly patronised by George III., who was so fond of music that he was accustomed to write out the programmes of his ow^n concerts. Handel's 'Abbey Commemoration' was repeated annually till 1791 ; these performances benefiting different metropolitan charities to the amount of £50,000. In 1834, took place another Comme- MEMOKIALS OF HANDEL. FEBEUAEY 24. ANIMAL COMEDIANS. moration in the Abbey. Festivals of Handel's music have since been given by the Sacred Harmonic Society, and in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, upon a very grand scale. We possess in England many memorials of the genius and character of this excellent man. Eou- biliac's first and last works in this country were his statue of Handel, for Vauxhall Gardens, and his monumental statue of the great composer in Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey. His auto- graphs are highly treasured : in the Queen's library are the original MSS. of nearly all Handel's "(vorks, filling eighty-two folio volumes; and his MS. scores and letters are preserved in tlie board-room of the Foundling Hospital. Portraits of Handel are numerous : he was painted by Tliornliill, Kyte, Denner, Wolfand, Hudson, and Grafoni. The portrait by Denner was in Handel's own possession, and is most trustworthy, though Walpole describes Hudson's portrait as ' honest similitude ;' it is at Gopsal, the seat of Earl Howe. The statue of Handel from Vauxhall is now in the possession of the Sacred Harmonic Society ; and a cast of Handel's features, taken after death by Eoubiliac for the Abbey statue, is carefully preserved, as are a few impressions from the mould. A harpsichord and book-case, which once belonged to the great composer, are also treasured as relics. He lived many years in the house No. 57, on the south side of Brook-street, four doors from Bond-street, and here he gave rehearsals of his oratorios. Handel was fond of society, enjoyed his pipe over a cup of coffee, and was a lively wit in conversation. He was very fond of Mrs Gibber, at whose house, on Sunday evenings, he often met Quin, the comedian. One evening Handel, having delighted the company by playing ou the harpsichord, took his leave. After he was gone, Quin was asked by Mrs Cibber whether he did not think Mr Handel had a charming hand? 'A hand, madam! you mistake, it is a foot.' ' Poh ! poh ! ' said she, ' has he not a fine finger ? ' ' Toes, madam ! ' In fact, his hand was so fat, that the knuckles, which usually appear convex, were, like those of a child, dinted or dim- pled in ; however, his touch was so smooth, that his fingers seemed to grow to the keys. They were so curved and compact when he played, that no motion, and scarcely tlie fingers them- selves, could be perceived. In performing on the organ, his command of the instrument was amazing, as was the fulness of his harmony, and the grandeur and dignity of his style. He wore an enormous white wig, and when tilings went well at the oratorios, it had a certain nod or vibration, which denoted his pleasure and satis- faction. Without this signal, nice observers were certain that he was out of humour. At the close of an air, the voice with which he used to cry out ' Chorus ! ' was formidable indeed. Handel died possessed of £20,000, which, with the exception of £10,000 to the fund for decayed musicians, he chiefly bequeathed to his relations on the Continent. MKS midnight's ANIMAL COMEDIANS. ' The town,' as Beau Tibbs would say, was regaled, in 1753, with a new pleasure, under the EALLKT OF nOOS AND MONKEYS : On the left, beloiv, a munlccy cavalier on dog-hack. 293 AXIMAL COMEDIANS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ANIMAL COMEDIANS. 294 A MO-N'KEY TOWN UErSIEGED BY DOGS. ANIMAL COMEDIANS. FEBRUAEY 24. FISH AND FISH PIES IN LEM. appellation of Mrs Midnight's Animal Comedians. With incredible labour and patience, a number of dogs and monkeys had been trained to go through certain scenic representations, which were generally acknowledged to be a marvel- lously good imitation of the doings of human actors. The performance took place in a small theatre, which was fitted up with appropriate scenery, decorations, &c., and was, we believe, well attended. A representation of the stage as it appeared from the pit, is reproduced on the preceding page from a contemporary print, in which, however, there are compartments exhibit- ing other performances by the animal comedians. Taking these compartments as evidence on the subject, we find that there was a Monkei/s' Enter- tainment, two of these animals being seated in full dress at a table with wine and cake, while another of the same species attended with a plate under his arm. Two dogs, accoutred like soldiers, shewed their agility by jumping over a succession of bundles of sticks. Three perso- nated Harlequin, Pero (?), and Columbine, the last attired in a prodigious hoop. Two monkeys, in cloaks and cocked hats, were exercised upon the backs of a couple of dogs. Another monkey, mounted on dog-back, went through a series of quasi-equestrian performances, mounting and dismounting with the greatest propriety. There was also a grand Ballet Dance of dogs and monkeys in the formal dresses of the period, powdered hair, &c., and of this we have caused a copy to be prepared (p. 293). In the original a ' lady ' has just been brought in in a sedan. Certainly, however, the principal performance was a Siege, of which also a copy here appears. The stage in this instance presented the ex- terior of a fortified town. Monkeys manned the walls, and fired at a multitude of canine besiegers. The army of dogs, under their brave commanders, came forward with unflinching courage, and, a couple of ladders being planted, they mounted the ramparts with the greatest agility, and entered the city sword in hand, disregarding such casualties as the fall of two or three of the storming party into the ditch. The simial defenders, as we may suppose, gave a determined resistance ; but all was in vain against canine courage, and soon the flag of the assailants waved upon the battlements. When the smoke cleared away, the besieged and be- siegers were observed in friendly union on the top of the fore-wall, taking off" their hats to the tune of God save the King, and humbly saluting the audience. Tradition intimates to us that Mrs Midnight's Animal Comedians were for a season in great favour in London ; yet, strange to say, there is no notice of them in the Gentle- man's Magazine, or any other chronicle of tJie time which we have been able to consult. FISH AND FISH PIES IN LENT. The strictness with which our ancestors observed Lent .ind fast-days led to a prodigious consumption of tish l)y all classes ; and great quantities arc entered in ancient household accounts as having been bought for family use. In the 31st year of the reign of iklward III., the following sums were paid from the Exchequer for fish supphed to the royal household : Fifty marks for five lasts (9,000) red herrings, twelve pounds for two lasts of white herrings, six pounds for two barrels of sturgeon, twenty-one ])ounds five shillings for 1300 stock-fish, thirteen shillings and ninepeuce for eighty -nine congers, and twenty marks for 320 muhvells. The cooks had many ways of preparing the fish. Herring-pies were considered as delicacies even by royalty. The town of Yarmouth, by ancient charter, was hound to send a hundred henings, baked in twenty-four pies or pasties, annually to the king ; and Eustace de Corson, Thomas de Berkedich, and Kobert de Withen, in the reign of Edward I. , held thirty acres by tenure of supplying twenty-four pasties of fresh herrings, for the king's use, on their first coming into season. ' Lampreys were the favourite dish of the medieval epiciures ; they were always considered a great deli- cacy. So great was the demand for this tish in the reign of King John, as to have induced that monarch to issue a royal licence to one Sampson, to go to Xantes to purchase lampreys for the use of the Coun- tess of Blois. The same king issued a mandate to the sheriffs of Gloucester (that city being famous for pro- ducing lampreys), forbidding them, on their tirst coming in, to he sold for more than two shillings a piece. In the reign of Edward III. , they were some- times sold for eightpence ortenpence a piece, and they often produced a much higher price. In 1341, Walter Dastyn, sheriff of Gloucester, received the sum of £12, OS. 8d. for forty-four lampreys supplied for the king's use. ' * The corporation of Gloucester presented to the sovereign every Christmas, as a token of their loyalty, a lamprey -pie, which was sometimes a costly gift, as lamjjreys at that season coidd scarcely be \>vo- cured at a giunea a piece. (See Fisli, Iwio to choose, how to dress. Printed at Laimceston.) The Severn is noted from its lampreys, and Gloucester noted for its peculiar mode of stewing them ; indeed, a Glou- cester lamprey wdl almost excuse the royal excess of Henry I., who died at Rouen, of an illness brought on by eating too freely of this choice fish, after a day spent in hunting. In addition to these favourite dishes, the choice ' ^'iauders ' of the fourteenth century paid epiciu-ean prices for delicious morsels of the whale, the i^orpoise, the gi-ampus, and the sea-wolf. These animals, being then considered as fish, were held as aUowable food in Lent : it is lamentable to think how much sin they thus occasioned among om' forefathers, before they were discovered to be mammalian. The flesh of the por- poise was cooked in various ways : a manuscript in the British Museum contains a receipt for making ' puddynge of porpoise ' (Harl. MSS. , Xo. 279) ; and we find iib served at table as late as the time of Henry VIII., and in the nortii to a later period. Use of Militia Drilling and Tactics. — Gibbon, who at one part of his hfe Avas a captain in the Hampshire regiment of militia, remained ever after sensible of a benefit from it. He says, ' It made me an Enghsh- man and a soldier. In this peaceful ser\dce I im- bibed the nicfiments of the language and science of tactics, which opened a new field of study and obser- vation. The disciphne and evolutions of a modern battahon gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx and the legion ; and the captain of the Hampshire grena- diers (the reader may snule) has not been useless to the historian of the Eoman emphe.' — Miscellaneous Works, vol. i., p. 136. * Parker's Domestic Architecture in England, 14th cent., p. 131. 295 WILLIAM LILT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. COUNT AVALLENSTEIN. FEBRUARY 25. St Victoriiius, and six companions, martyrs, 2S4. St Cffisarius, physician of Constantinople, 369. St Wal- biirge, virgin, of Ktigland, 779. St Tarasius, patriarch of Ooustantinople, 80G. Born. — Germain de Saint Foix, 1703, liennes. J)i,d. — William Lilly, master of St Taul's School, Lou- don, 1523; Robert Earl of Essex, beheaded, 1600; Count Wallenstein, commander, assassinated, 1634,l,V/er; Frede- rirk L (of Frnssia), 1713; Sir Christopher Wren, architect, 1723, St James's; Dr William Buchau, 1805, iSt Pancras ; George Don, naturalist, 1856. WILLIAM LILY, THE GR.\M>IARIAX. This famous sclioolmastcr, tlie friend of Eras- mus and Sir Tliomas More, was born at Odiliam, HaTits. about IKiS ; lie was educated at Oxford University, and then travelled to the East, to acquire a knowledge of the Greek language. On his return to England he set up 'a private grammar-school, and was the first teacher of Greek in the metropolis. In 1512, Dean Colet, who had just founded St Paul's School, appointed Lily the first master. In the following year he produced his Grammar, which has probably passed through more editions than any work of its kind, and is used to this day in St Paul's School ; the English rudiments were written by Colet. and_ the preface to the first edition by Cardinal Wolscy ; the Latin syntax cliiefly by Erasmus ; and the remainder by Lily ; the book being thus the joint production of four of the greatest scholars of the age. Lily held the mastership of St Paul's School for nearly twelve years; he died of the plague in London, and was buried in the north churchyard of St Paid's, within bow-shot of the school to whose early celebrity he had so essentially contributed. COUNT WALLENSTEIN. There is scarcely a personage in history of more awe-striking character than Count Wallen- stein, the commander of the Emperor's armies in that struggle Avith Protestantism, the Thirty Years' War. Born of high rank in 1583, Wallenstein found himself at forty chief of the imperial armies, and the possessor of immense wealth. Concen- trating a powerful mind on one oljject, the grati- fication of his ambition, he attained it to a re- markable degree, and was for some time beyond doubt the greatest subject in Europe. In man- aging troops by a merciless discipline, in making rapid marches, in the fiery energy of his attacks upon the enemy, he was unrivalled. In but one battle, that of Lutzen, where he met the Protes- tant army iinder Gustavus of Sweden, was he unsuccessful. The personality and habits of the man have been strikingly- described by Michiels in his Bistori/ of the Austrian Government. 'Wallen- stein's immense riches, his profound reserve, and theatrical manners, were the principal means he employed to exalt the imagination of the masses. He always appeared in public surrounded by ex- traordmary pomp, and allowed all those attached to his house to share in his luxury. His officers 296 lived sum])tu()usly at his table, where never less tlian one liundred dishes were served. As he rewarded with excessive liberality, not only the multitiulo but the greatest personages were dazzled by this Asiatic splendour. Six gates gave entrance to his palace at Prague, to make room for which lie had pulled down one hundred houses. Similar chateaux were erected by his orders on all his numerous estates. Twenty- four chamberlains, sprung from the most noble families, disputed the honour of serving him, and some sent back the golden key, emblem of their grade, to the Emperor, in order that they might wait on Wallenstein. lie educated sixty pages, dressed in blue velvet and gold, toM'hom he gave tlic first masters ; fifty trabants guarded his ante- chamber night and day ; six barons and the same number of chevaliers were constantly within call to bear his orders. His matt re-d' hotel was a person of distinction. A thousand persons usually formed his household, and about one thousand horses filled his stables, where they fed from marble mangers. When he set out on his travels, a himdred. carriages, drawn by four or six horses, conveyed his servants and baggage ; sixty carriages and fifty led horses carried the people of his suite ; ten trumpeters with silver bugles preceded the procession. The richness of his liveries, the pomp of his equipages, and the decoration of his apartments, were in harmony with all the rest. In a hall of his palace at Prague he had himself painted in a triumphal car, with a wreath of laurels round his head, and a star above him. ' Wallenstein's ajjpearance was enough in itself to inspire fear and respect. His tall thin figure, his haughty attitude, the stern expression of his pale face, liis wide forehead, that seemed formed to command, his black hair, close-shorn and harsh, his little dark eyes, in which the flame of authority shone, his haughty and suspicious look, his thick moustaches and tufted beard, produced, at the first glance, a startling sensation. His usual dress consisted of a justaucorps of elk skin, covered by a white doublet and cloak ; round his neck he wore a Spanish ruff; in his hat fluttered a large red plume, while scarlet pantaloons and boots of Cordova leather, care- fully padded on account of the gout, completed his ordinary attire. While his army devoted itself to pleasure, the deepest silence reigned around the general. He could not endure the rumbling of carts, loud conversations, or even simple sounds. One of his chamberlains was hanged for waking him without orders, and an officer secretly put to death because his spurs had clanked when he came to the general. His servants glided about the rooms like phantoms, and a dozen patrols incessantly moved round his tent or palace to maintain perpetual tran- quillity. Chains were also stretched across the streets, in order to guard him against any sound. Wallenstein was ever absorbed in himself, ever engaged with his plans and designs. He was never seen to smile, and his pride rendered him inaccessible to sensual pleasures. His only fanaticism was ambition. This strange chief meditated and acted incessantly, only taking counsel of himself, and disdaining strange advice DEATH OF SIK CHRISTOPIIEE WEEN. FEBEUAEY 25. DR BtrCHAN. aucl inspirations. When lie gave any orders or explanations, lie could not bear to be looked at curiously ; when lie crossed the camp, the sol- diers were obliged to pretend that they did not see him. Yet they experienced an involuntary shudder when they saw him pass like a super- natural being. There was something about him mysterious, solemn, and awe-inspiring. He walked alone, surrounded by this magic iufli*- enco, like a saddening halo.' The end of Wallenstein was such as might have been anticipated. Becoming too formidable for a subject, he Avas denounced to the Emperor by Piccolomini, who obtained a commission to take the great general dead or alive. On the 25th of February 1634. he was assailed in the Castle of Eger by a band, in which were included one Gordon, a Scotsman, and one Butler, an Irishman, and fell under a single stroke of a par- tizan, dying in proud silence, as he had lived. DEATH OF Sill CHRISTOPHER WREN. Wren's long and useful life, although protracted by activity and temperance much beyond the usual term of man's existence, was brought to a close by an accident. After his dismissal from the oiSce of Surveyor-General, he occupied a town residence in St James's-street, Piccadilly, and continued to superintend the repairs of West- minster Abbey. He also rented from the Crown a house at Hampton Court, where he often retired, and there he passed the greater part of the last live years of his life in study and contemplation. On his last journey from Hampton Court to Lon- don, he contracted a cold, which accelerated his death. The good old man had, in his latter days, accustomed himself to sleep a short time after his dinner, and on the 25th of February 1723, his servant, thinking his master had slept longer than usual, went into his room, and found him dead in his chair. He was in his ninety-first year. The funeral of Wren was attended by an assemblage of honourable and distinguished ])ersonages, from his house in St James's-street to St Paul's Cathedral, where his remains were deposited in the crypt, adjoining to others of his family, in the recess of the south-eastei-n window, under the choir. His gi'ave is covered with a black marble slab, with a short inscription in English ; and on the western jamb of the window recess is a handsome tablet, with a Latin inscrip- tion written by the architect's son, Christopher, in which are the words, ' Lector, si monumentum quaris, circumspice,' which instruction, to ' look around,' has led to the conclusion that the tablet was intended for the body of the cathedral, where the public might read it. It is understood that the malice of the commissioners for rebuilding St Paul's pursued Wren beyond the grave, and condemned the explanatory epitaph to the crypt, where it could be read but by comparatively i'ew persons. Many years afterwards, Mr Ilobert Mylne, architect, had a copy of the inscription ])laced over the marble screen to the choir, which has since been removed. ^A'rcn adorned London with no fewer than forty ])ublic buildings, but was the worst paid architect of whom we have any record : his annual salary as architect of St Paul's was £200 ; and his pay for rebuilding the churches in the city was only £100 a year. DR BUCHAN AND HIS ' DOMESTIC MEDICINE.' Who has not heard of Buchan's Domestic Medicine, the medical Mentor, ' the guide, philo- sopher, and friend ' of past generations, and scarcely yet superseded by Graham and Macau- lay ? This book, bearing on its title-page the epigraph, ' The knowledge of a disease is half its cure,' a sort of temptation to the reading of medical books in general, first appeared in 1709 : it speedily obtained popularity by the plain and familiar style in which it is written ; and no less than nineteen editions of the book, amounting to 80,000 copies, were sold during the author's life-time. Dr Buchan, who was born in Eoxburghshire, in 1729, long enjoyed a good London practice as a physician. He lived many years at the house of his son, Dr Alexander Buchan, No. 6, Percy- street, Bedford-square ; and there he died, at the age of seventy-six : he was buried in the west cloister of Westminster Abbey church. It was Buchan's practice to see patients at the Chapter Coflee-house, in Patei'iioster-row, where he usually might be found in ' the IVittenagemot,' a box in the north-east corner of the coilee-room. Though he was a high Tory, he heard the political discussions of the place with good humour, and commonly acted as a moderator, an office for which his fine physiognomy, and his venerable white hairs, highly c[ualifiedliim. His son belonged to the same club or set, and though somewhat dogmatical, added to the variety and intelligence of the discussions, which, from the mixture of the company, were as various as the contents of a newspaper. Of this same Wittenagemot Dr George Fordj'ce and Dr Gower were also members ; and it was very amusing to hear them in familiar chat with Dr Buchan. On subjects of medicine they seldom agreed, and when such were started, they generally laughed at one another's opinions. They liberally patronised Chapter punch, which always bore a high reputation in London. If any one complained of being indisposed, Buchan woukl exclaim, ' Now, let me prescribe for you. Here, John or Isaac, bring a glass of punch for Mr , unless he likes brandy-and-water better. Take that, sir, and I'll warrant you'll soon be well — you're a peg too low, you want stimulus ; and if one glass won't do, call for a second.' The Domestic Medicine Avas written in Shef- field ; and James Montgomery, in his Memoirs, relates the following particulars of the author : ' I remember seeing the old gentleman when I first went to London. He was of venerable aspect, neat in his dress, his hair tied behind with a large black ribbon, and a gold-headed cane in his hand, quite realizing my idea of an Esculapian dignitary.' Montgomery acknow- ledges that he never spoke to the Doctor, as he was quite out of his reach ; but he looked upon him Avith respect, as a man Avho had published a hook. In one of the Scottish editions of Buchan, there Avas an astounding misprint, in Avhich a 297 INVASION PANIC. THE BOOK OP DAYS. DR KITCHINEK. prescription containing one hundred ounces of laudanum, instead of that number of drops, is recommondod.' In no other science does Pope's maxim that ' a littU> learning is a dangerous thing' hold so strongly as in medicine ; for those •who read medical works, professing to be popular, are almost certain to suppose themselves all'ected with every disease about which tlicy read. They forthwith take alarm at the probable conse- quences, and having some lurking suspicion that they may have mistaken the symptoms, they follow the prescriptions laid down in their book in secret, lest tliey should bring themselves into open ridicule. Goethe shrewdly remai'ks : ' He who studies liis body too much becomes diseased — his mind, becomes mad ; ' and there is an old Italian epitaph which, with a little amendment, would run thus : ' I Avas well — I wished to be better — read medical hools — took medicine — and died.' INVASION PANIC. Towards the close of February 1744, the threatened invasion of England by the French, accompanied by the young Pretender, caused a general alarm throughout the kingdom, and all Koman Catholics were prohibited fi'om appearing within ten miles of London. We had then thi'ee ships in the Downs ; but the landing was ex- pected to bo in Essex or Suffolk. Walpole writes from the House of Commons, February IGth : ' We have come nearer to a crisis than I expected ! After the various reports about the Brest squadron, it has proved that they are six- teen ships of the line olf Torbay ; in all proba- bility to draw our fleet from Dunkirk, where they have two men-of-war, and sixteen large Indiamen to transport eight thousand foot and two thousand horse which are there in the town. There has been some diiEculty to persuade the people of the imminence of our danger ; but yesterday the King sent a message to both Houses to acquaint us that he has certain infor- mation of the young Pretender being in France, and of the designed invasion from thence, in concert with the disaffected here.' Immediately addi-esses were moved to assure the King of standing by him with lives and fortunes. All the troops were sent for, in the greatest haste, to London ; and an express to Holland to demand six thousand men. On tlie 23rd, Walpole writes : ' There is no doubt of the invasion : the young Pretender is at Calais, and the Count de Saxe is to command the embarkation. Sir John JN orris was to sad yesterday to Dunkirk, to try to burn their transports ; we are in the utmost expec- tation of the news. The Brest squadron was yesterday on the coast of Sussex.' On tlie 2oth of February, the English Channel Heet under Sir John Norris came within a league of the Brest squadron. Walpole says the coasts were covered with people to see the engagement; but at seven in the evening the wind changed, and the French fleet escaped. A violent storm shattered and wrecked the transports, and the expedition was glad to put back to Dunkirk. The dread of the invasion was then at an end. With regard to 'the disaffected' mentioned 298 in the King's message, Mr. P. Yorke notes in his Parliamenian/ Journal: ' 1744, February 13. Talking upon this subject with Horace Walpole, he told me coniidently that Admiral Matthews intercepted last sunmier a felucca in her passage from Toulon to Genoa, on board of whicli were found several papers of great consequence, relating to a Frencii invasion in concert with the Jacobites ; one of them particidarly was in the style of an invitation from several of the nobility and gentry of England to the Pretender. These papers, he thought, had not been sufficiently looked into, and were not laid before the cabinet councd imtil the night before the message was sent to both Houses.' The invasion designed in 1744 did not take place, but in the next year the j^oung Pretender, as is well known, came with only seven men, and nearly overturned the government. TIME — DAY AND NIGHT. By Geoffrey Whitney, 15S9. Two horses free, a third doth swiftly chase, The one is white, tlie other blaclc of hue ; None bridles have for to restrain their pace, And thus they both the otlier still pursue ; And never cease continual coiuse to make, Until at length the lirst they overtake. The foremost horse that runs so fast away. It is our time, while here our race we run ; The black and white presenteth night and daj^, Who after haste, until the goal be won ; And leave us not, but follow from our birth, Until we yield, and turn again to earth. FEBRUARY 26. St Alexander, patriarch of Alexandria, 326. St Par- pliyrius, bishop of Gaza, 42U. St Victor, of Champagne, 7th century. Born. — Anthony Cooper, Earl of Sliaftesbur}', 1671, Exeter House ; llev. James Hervey, author of Meditations, 1714, Ilardinfjstone ; Frangois J, D. Arago, natural pbilo- soplier, 1786; Victor Hugo, fictitious writer, 1802. /Vied— Manfred (of Tareuto), killed, 1266; Robert Fabian, chronicler, \b\'6, Cornhill; Sir Nicholas Crispe, Guinea trader, 1665, Hammersmith; Thomas D'Urfey, wit and poet, 1723, St James's ; Maximilian (of Bavaria), \7 26, Munich; Joseph Tartine, musical composer, 1770, Padua; Dr Alexander Geddes, theologian, 1802, Pud- dinr/ioii; John Philip Kerable, actor, 1823, Lausanne; Dr William Kitchiner, litterateur, 1827, St Pancras ; Sir William Allan, K.A., painter, 1850 ; Thomas Moore, lyric poet, 1852 ; Thomas Tooke, author of the Histuri/ of Prices, &c., 1858, London. ECCENTRICITIES OF DK KITCHINER. Eccentricity in cookery-books is by no means peculiar to our time. We have all read of the oddities of Mrs Glasse's instructions ; and most olden cookery-books savour of such humour, not to mention as oddities the receipts for doing out- of-the-way things, such as ' How to Eoast a Pound of Butter,' which we find in the Art of Cookery, by a lady, 1748. To the humour of Dr Kitchiner in this way we doubtless owe a very good book — his Cook's Oracle, in which the instructions are given M'ith so much come-and-read-me pleasantry DK KITCHINEE. FEBEUAEY 26. DE KITCniNER. and gossiping anecdote as to win the dullest reader. But Kitcliiner was not a mere book- making cook : he practised what he taught, and he had ample means for the purpose. From his father, a coal-merchant in an extensive way of business in the Strand, ho had inherited a for- tune of £60,000 or £70,000, which was more tlian sufEcient to enable him to work out his ideal of life.* His heart overflowed with benevolence and good humour, and no man better understood the art of making his friends happy. He shewed equal tact in his books: his Coolcs Orach is full of common-sense practice ; and lest his reader should stray into ex- cess, he wrote TJie Art of In- vigorating and Prolonging Life, and a more useful book in times when railways were not — The Travellers Oracle, andllorse and Carriage Keeper s Guide. •With his ample fortune, Kitchiner was stiU an economist, and wrote a Souseheeper s Ledger, and a coaxing volume entitled The Pleasures of Making a Will. He also Avrote on astronomy, telescopes, and spectacles. In music he was a proficient ; and in 1820, at the coronation of George IV., he published a collection of the National Songs of Great Britain, a folio volume, with a splendid dedication plate to His Majesty. Next he edited The Sea Songs' of Charles Dihdin. But, merrily and wisely as Kitchiner professed to live, he had scarcely reached his fiftieth year when he was taken from the circle of friends. At this time he resided at No. 43, Warren- street, Fitzroy-square. On the 26th of February he joined a large dinner-party given by Mr Braham, the celeljrated singer : he had been in high spirits, and ]iad enjoyed the company to a later hour than his usually early habits allowed. Mathews was present, and rehearsed a portion of a new comic entertainment, which induced Kitchiner to amuse the party with some of his whimsical reasons for inventing odd things, and giving them odd names. He returned home, was suddenly taken ill, and in an liour he was no more ! Though always an epicure, and fond of experiments in cookery, and exceed- ingly particular in the choice of his viands, and in their mode of preparation for the table, Kitchiner was regular, and even abstemious, in his general liabits. His dinners were cooked according to his own method ; he dined at five ; supper was * Tlie Doctor's father was a Roman Catliolic, and in the riots of 1780, Beaufort-buildings, in the Strand, were filled with soldiers to protect Kitchiner's coal-wharf in the rear of the buildings by the river-side. served at half-past nine ; and at eleven he retired. Every Tuesday evening he gave a conversazione, at which he delighted to bring together professors and amateurs of the sciences and the polite arts. For the regulation of the party the Doctor had a placard over his drawing-room chimney-piece, inscribed ' Come at seven, go at eleven.' _ It is said that George Colman the younger, being introduced to Kitchiner on one of his evenings, and reading this admonition, found an oppor- tunity to insert in the placard after ' go ' the pro- noun ' it,' which, it must be admitted, materially WILLIAM KITCHINER, M.D. altered the reading. In these social meetings, when the Doctor's servant gave the signal lor supper, those who objected to take other than tea or coflee departed ; and those who remained descended to the dining-room, to partake of his friendly fare. A cold joint, a lobster sahid, and some little entremets, usually formed the summer repast ; in winter some nicely-cooked hot dishes were set upon the board, with wine, liqueurs, and ales from a well-stocked cellar. Such 299 DE KITCniNER. THE BOOK OF DAYS, nelson and the Spanish swoed. were the oi\lerl_y luibits at these evening parties, that, ' on the stroke of ek>ven,' liats, nmbrelhis, &e., were brought in. and the Doctor attended his guests to tlie street-door, where, llrst looking at the stars, he wouki give them a cordial shake of the hand, and a hearty 'good night,' as they severally departed. Iviti'hiner's public dinners, as they may be termed, were things of more pomp, ceremony, and etiquette : tlu\v were announced by notes of invitation, as follows : — ' Dear Sir, — The honour of your company is requested, to dine with the Committee of Taste, on Wednesday next, the 10th instant. ' The sjjccimens will be placed on the table at five o'clock precisel}', when the business of the day will immediately commence. ' I have the honour to be ' Your most obedient Servant. 'W. KiTciiiNEK, Sec. ' August, 1825, ' Jo, Warren-street, Fitzroy-square. ' At the last general meeting, it Avas unani- mously resolved — that " 1st. An invitation to ETA BETA PI must be answered in writing, as soon as possible after it is received — within twenty-four hours at latest, — reckoning from that at which it was dated ; otherwise the secretary will have the profound regret to feel that the invitation has been deh- nit^ely declined. ' 2ud. The secretary having represented that the perfection of the several preparations is so exquisitely evanescent that the delay of one minute, after the arrival at the meridian of con- coction, will render them no longer worthy of men of taste : ' Therefore, to ensure the punctual attendance of those illustrious gastrophilists who, on this occasion, are invited to join this high tribunal of taste — for their own pleasure, and the benefit of their country — it is irrevocably resolved — ■" That the janitor be ordered not to admit any visitor, of whatever eminence of appetite, after the hour at which the secretary shall have announced that the specimens are ready." ' By Order of the Committee, ' W. KiTCHiNEK, Sec' At the last party given by the Doctor on the 20th February, as the first three that were bidden entered his drawing-room, he received them seated at his grand pianoforte, with ' See the Conquering Hero comes ! ' accompanying the air by placing his feet on the pedals, with a peal on the kettle-drums beneath the instrument. Alas, the conquering hero was not far ofi"! The accompanying whole-length portrait of Dr Kitchiuer has been engraved from a well- executed mezzotint — a private plate — 'painted and engraved by C. Turnei', engraver in ordi- nary to His Majesty.' The skin of the stuffed tiger on the floor of the room was brought from Africa by Major Denham, and presented by him to his friend Kitchiner. SUSPENSION OF CASH PAYMENTS IN 1797. In the great war which England commenced against France in 1793, the first four years saw 300 two hundred millions added to the national debt, without any material advantage being gained : on the contrary. France had become more for- midable than at first, had made great acquisitions, and was now less disposed to peace than ever. So much coin had left the country for the payment of troops abroad, and as subsidies to allies, that the Bank during 179(5 began to feel a diiliculty in satisfying the demands made upon it. At the close of the year, the people began to hoard coin, and to make a run upon tlie country banks. These applied to the Bank of England for help, and the consequence was, that a run upon it commenced in the latter part of February 1797. This great establishment could only keej; itself ailoat by paying in sixpences. Notwith- standing the sound state of its ultimate resources, its immediate insolvency was expected, — an event the consequences of which must have been dread- ful. In that exigency, the Government stepped in with an order in council (February 26), autho- rizing the notes of the bank as a legal tender, until such time as proper remedies could be provided. This suspension of cash payments by the Bank of England — a virtual insolvency — was attended by the usual effect of raising the nominal prices of all articles ; and, of course, it deranged reckonings between creditors and debtors. It was believed, however, to be an absolutely indis- pensable step, and the Conservative party always regarded it as the salvation of the country. A return to cash payments was from the first pro- mised and expected to take place in a few months ; but, as is well known, Eing Paper reigned for twenty-two yeai's. During most of that time, a guinea bought twenty-seven shillings worth of articles. It was just one of the dire features of the case that even a return to what should never have been departed from, could not be effected without a new evil ; for of course, whereas creditors were in the first instance put to a disadvantage, debtors were so now. The public debt was considered as enhanced a third by the act of Sir llobert Peel for the resumption of cash payments, and all private obligations rose in the same proportion. On a review of English history during the last few years of the eighteenth century, one gets an idea that there was little sound judgment and much recklessness in the conduct of public aff'airs ; but the spirit of the people was xui- conquerable, and to that a very poor set of ad- ministrators were indebted for eventual successes which they did not deserve. NELSON AND THE SPANISH ADMIUAL's SWORD. In the council-chamber of the Guildhall, INToi'- wich, is a glass case containing a sword, along with a letter shewing how the weapon came there. When, in the midst of imexampled na- tional distress, and an almost general mutiny of the sailors, the English fleet under Sir John Jervis engaged and beat the much superior fleet of Spain oil' Cape St Vincent, February 14, 1797, Caj)tain Nelson, in his ship the Captain, seventy- four, disabled several vessels, and received the surrender of one, the San Josef, from its com- CnUECn BELLS. FEBEUAEY 26. CHUECH BELLS. mauder, after having boarded it. [This un- fortunate officer soon after died of his wounds.] It would appear that, a few days after the action, Kelson bethought him of a proper place to which to assign the keeping of the sword of the opauish commauder, and he deter- mined on sending it to the chief town of his native county. This symbol of victory accordingly came to the Mayor of K^orwich, accompanied by a letter which is here exactly transcrihed : Irresistible, off Lisbon, Feb. 26th, 1707. Sir, Having the good for- tune on the most glorious l-tth February to become possessed of the sword of the Spanish Eear Admiral Don Xavier Francesco Wintheysen in the way sett forth iu the paper transmitted herewith And being Born in the County of Norfolk, I beg leave to present the sword to the City of Nor- wich in order to its being preserved as a memento of this event, and of my affection for my native County. I have the honor to Be, Sir, your most Obedient servant, HoEATio Nelsox. To the ]\Iayor of Norwich. SPAXISH commander's SWOED, PRESENTED BY NELSON TO NORWICH. CHURCH BELLS. Large bells in England are mentioned by Bede as early as a.d. 670. A complete peal, however, does not occur till nearly 200 years later, wheu Turketul, abbot of Croyland, in Lincolnshire, presented his abbey with a great bell, which was called Guthlac, and afterwards added six others, named Pega, Bega, Bettelin, Bartholomew, Tat- win, and Turketul. At this early period, and for some centuries later, bell-founding, like otlier scientific crafts, was carried on by the monks. Dunstan, Avho was a skilful artificer, is recorded by Ingulph as having presented bells to the western churches. When in after times beU- founding became a regular trade, some founders were itinerant, travelling from place to place, and stopping where they found business ; but the majority had settled works in large towns. Among other places London, Gloucester, Salis- bury, Bury St Edmimds, Norwich, and Colchester have been the seats of eminent foundries. Bells were anciently consecrated, before they were raised to their places, each being dedicated to some divine personage, saint, or martyr. The ringing of such bells was considered effica- cious in dispersing storms, and evil spirits were supposed to be unable to endure their sound. Hence the custom of ringing the 'passing bell' when any one was in articulo mortis, in order to scare away fiends who might otherwise molest the departing spirit, and also to secure the prayers of such pious folk as might chance to be witliin hearing. An old woman once related to the writer, how, after the death of a wicked squire, his spirit came and sat npon the hell, so that all the ringers together could not toll it. The bell-cots, so common on the gable-ends of our old churches, in former times contained each a ' Sancte' bell, so called from its being rung at the elevation of the host ; one may be seen, still hanging in its place, at Over, Cambridgeshire. It is scarcely probable that any bells now remain in this country of date prior to the 14th or at most the 13th century, and of the most ancient of these the age can only be ascertained approximately, the custom of inserting the date in the inscription (which each bell almost inva- riably bears) not having obtained until late in the 16th century. The very old bells expand more gradually from crown to rim tlian the modern ones, which splay out somewhat abruptly towards the mouth. It may be added that the former are almost inva- riably of excellent tone, and as a rule far superior to those cast now-a-days. There is a popular idea that this is in consequence of the older founders adding silver to their bell-metal ; but recent experiments have shewn that the presence of silver spoils instead of improving the tone, in direct proportion to the c|uantity emplo3"ed. A cockney is usually defined as a person born within hearing of Bow bells ; Stow, however, who died early in 1605, nowhere mentions this notion, so that it is probably of more recent origin. The Bow bell used to be rung regularly at nine o'clock at night ; and by wUl dated 1472, one John Donne, Mercer, left two tenements with appurtenances, to the maintenance of Bow bell. ' This bell being usually rung somewhat late, as seemed to the young men 'prentices and other in Cheape, they made and set up a rhyme against the clerk, as foUoweth : ' Clarke of the Bow bell with the yellow locks, For thy late ringing thy head shall have knocks. ' Whereunto the clerk replying, wrote — ' Chiklren of Cheape, hold you all still. For you shall have the Bow beU rung at your will.'* One of the finest bits of word-painting in Shak- speare occurs in the mention of a bell, where King John, addressing Hubert, says ' If the midnight bell Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth Sound one unto the drowsy race of uight. ' Here ' brazen' implies not merely that particular mixture of copper and calamine, called brass, * Stow's Survey of London. 301 CHUECH BELLS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CHUECn BELLS. but in a broader sense, any metal which is com- pounded vrith copper. This acceptation of tlio term is noticed by Johnson, and in confirmation occurs tlie fact that the name of ]>rasj/cr was borne of ohi by an eminent family of east- country bell-founders; boins- like Bowyer, Miller, "Webber, etc. etc.. a trade-name, i.e. derived from the occupation of the bearer. The inscriptions on the oldest bells arc in the Lombardic and blaclc-letter characters, the former probably the more ancient ; the blact-lettcr was superseded by the ordinary Boman capitals, towards the close of the sixteenth century. Even later, however, than this, some founders employed a sort of imitation of the old Lombardic. The following arc genuine Lombardic inscriptions : gHL¥eClRVBaH(G:HmQVia¥ReMCIlR'eHV[1^6:rM]])MP^* una QurnvMUBhiA couru^ kMT, having given birth to four sons and nine daughters, and lived to see seven hundred descendants. lu as far as life itself goes in some instances considerablv beyond an average or a rule, so does it happen that men occasionally hold ollice or practise a profession for an abnonnally long time. Ilearne takes notice of a clergyman, named Blower, who died in 1613, vicar of White- "Waltham, which office he had held for sixty-seven years, though it was not his iirst cure. 'It was said he never preached but one sermon in his life, which was before Queen Elizabeth. Going after this discourse to pay his reverence to her jMajesty, he first called her My lloyal Queen, and afterwards My Noble Queen ; upon which Elizabeth smartly said, " What ! am I ten groats worse than I was P" Blower was so mortified by this good-natured joke, that he vowed to stick to the homilies for the future.' f The late Earl of Aberdeen had enjoyed the honours of his family for the extraordinary period of sixty years, — a fact not unexampled, however, in the Scottish peerage, as Alexander, ninth Earl of Caithness, who died in 1765, had been peer for an ec[ual time, and Alexander, fourth Duke of Gordon, was duke for seventy-five j^ears, namely from 1752 to 1827. It is perhaps even more re- markable that for the Gordon dukedom, granted in 1684, there were but four possessors in a hundred and forty-three years, and for the Aberdeen earldom, granted in 1682, there were but four possessors in a hundred and seventy- eight years ! In connection with these particu- lars, we may advert to the long reign of Louis XIV. of France — seventy -two years. Odd matrimonial connections are not infre- quent. For exami)le, a man will marry the niece of his son's wife. Even to marry a grandmother, though both ridiculous and illegal, is not unex- ampled (the female, however, being not a blood relation). ' Dr Bowles, doctor of divinity, married the daughter of Dr Samford, doctor of physic, and, vice versa, Dr Samford the daughter of Dr * In the Topograplier and Genealogist, edited by John Gougli Nichols (1840), vol. i., is given an enumeration of the progeny of Mary Iloneywood, shewing how eleven of her children had each a considerable family, three as many as eleven, one twelve, and two thirteen, children ; the eldest grandchild having twenty, &c. The Dean of Lin- coln, one of the grandsons, used to relate that he was present at a dinner given by the old lady to a family party of two hundred of her descendants. She died in 1620, aged ninety-three, having outlived her marriage seventy-seven years. t Hearne found, in the register of White-Waltham, the figure of the key of the west door of the church, which Blower had there delineated, in accordance with a custom which had in view to prevent any alteration being made in the key. Formerly, the bishop of the diocese used to deliver the keys of a church in a formal manner to the ostiarii, or doorkeepers, the deacons at the same time delivering the doors; latterly the minister performed these formalities, always taking a sketch of the keys in the parish registers, so that, in case of their being lost or unwarrantably altered, they might have them restored. — Lehnd's Itinerary/, v. 153 308 Bowles ; whereupon the two women might say. These are our fathers, our sons, and our hus- bands.'— ^/rA. Ushers 3ISS. Collections, quoted in RcUquice Hearniance, i. 121. The rule in matrimonial life where no quarrel has taken place is to continue living together. Yet we know that in this respect there are strange eccentricities. From the biography of our almost divine Shakspeare, it has been inferred that, on going to push his fortune in London, he left his Anne Hathaway (who was eight years his senior) at Stratford, where she remained during the sixteen or seventeen years which he spent as a player and play-writer in the metropolis ; and it also appears that, by and by returning tbere as a man of gentlemanly means, he resumed living with Mrs Shakspeare, as if no sort of alienation had ever taken place between them. There is even a more cui'ious, and, as it happens, a more clear case, than this, in the biography of the celebrated painter, George Eomney. He, it will be remembered, was of peasant birth in Lancashire. In 1762, after being wedded for eight years to a virtuous young woman, he quitted his home in the north to try his fortune as an artist in London, leaving his wife behind him. There was no quarrel — he supplied her with ample means of support for herself and her two children out of the large income he realized by his profession ; but it was not till thirty-seven years had 2^(issed, namely, in 1799, when he was sixty-five, and broken in health, that the truant husband returned home to re- sume living with his spouse. It is creditable to the lady, that she was as kind to her husband as if he had never left her ; and Homney, for the three or four years of the remainder of his life, was as happy in her society as ill health would permit. It is a mystery which none of the great painter's biographers, though one of them was his son, have been able to clear up. LINES ON THE GRAVE OF JACKSON THE PUGILIST, In the West London and Westminster Cemetery. ' Stay, Traveller, ' the Roman record said, To mark the classic dust beneath it laid ; ' Stay, Traveller, ' this brief memorial cries, And read the moral with attentive eyes : Hast thou a lion's heart, a giant's strength, Exult not, for these gifts must yield at length ; Do health and symmetry adorn thy frame, The mouldering bones below possessed the same ; Does love, does friendship, every step attend. This man ne'er made a foe, nor lost a friend ; But death fidl soon dissolves all human ties. And, his last combat o'er, here Jackson lies. THE RACE-HORSE ECLIPSE. On the 2Sth of February 1789, died at Canons, in MidcQesex, the celebrated horse Eclipse, at the ad- vanced age of twenty-five. The animal had received his name from being born diu-ing an eclipse, and it became curiously significant and appropriate when, in mature life, he was found to surpass all contemporary horses in speed. He was bred by the Duke of Cimi- berland, younger brother of George III., and after- Avards became the property of Dennis O'Kelly, Esq., a gentleman of large fortime, who died in December ST OSWALD. FEBEUAEY 29. ARCHBISHOP WUITOIFT. 1787, bequeathing this favourite horse and anf)tlier, along with all his brood mares, to his brother Philip, in whose possession the subject of this memoir came to his end. For many years. Eclipse lived in retire- ment from the turf, but in another way a source of large income to his master, at Clay Hill, near Epsom, whither many curious strangers resorted to see him. They used to learn with surprise, — for the practice was not common then, as it is now, — that the life of Eclipse was insured for some thousands of pounds. When, after the death of Dennis 0' Kelly, it became neces- sary to remove Eclipse to Canons, the poor beast was so worn out that a carriage had to be constructed to carry him. The secret of his immense success in racing was revealed after death iu the unusual size of his heart, which weighed thirteen pounds. FEBRUARY 29. St Oswald, bishop of Worcester, and archbishop of York, 992. ST OSWALD. Oswald was an Anglo-Saxon prelate wlio was rewarded Avitli the lionour of canonization for the zeal with which he had assisted Dunstan and Odo in revolutionizing the Anglo-Saxon chnrch, and substituting the strict monachism of the Benedictines for the old genial married clergy ; or, in other words, reducing the Church of Eng- land to a complete subjection to Eome. Oswald was Odo's nephew, and was, like him, descended from Danish parents, and having at an early age distinguished himself by his progress in learning, was called to Canterbury by his uncle. Archbishop Odo, who made him a canon of the Old Minster there. He had already, however, begun to dis- play his passion for monachism, and became so dissatisfied with the manners of the married clergy of Canterbury, that he left England to enter the abbey of Fleury in France, which was then cele- brated for the severity of its discipline ; yet even there Oswald became celebrated for the strict- ness of his life. Archbishop Odo died in 961, and, as he felt his health declining, he sent for his nephew, who arrived only in time to hear of his death. He returned to Fleury, but was finally persuaded to come back to England with his kinsman Oskitel, Archbishop of York, who was on his way from Eome with his pallium. On their arrival in England they found Dunstan just elected to the see of Canterbury ; and that cele- brated prelate, fearful that the see of Worcester, which he had previously held, should fall into the hands of a bishop not sufficiently devoted to the cause of monachism, persuaded Oswald to accept it. The new bishop, in fact, found plenty to do at Worcester, for Dunstan himself had not been able to dislodge the married canons from the church, and they off"ered an equally resolute resistance to his successor. Having struggled for some time in vain, Oswald gave up the contest, left tlie church and the canons, and built a new cliurch and monastery near it, within the same churchyard, which he dedicated to the Virgin Mary ; he also established there a colony of monks from Fleury. The people, we are told, attended sometimes one church and some- times the other at will, until, gained over by the superior holiness which Oswald's clergy appeared to display, they gradually deserted the old church, and the married canons found themselves obliged to yield. in 972, Oswald was, through Dunstan's interest, raised to the archbishopric of York, and Dunstan, fearing for the interests of monachism in Mercia, where Oswald had still made no great progress, insisted on his retaining the bishopric of Wor- cester alon^ with the archiepiscopacy. The ti'iumph of Dunstan's craftiness as well as talents in the conference at Calne, in 978, finally turned the scale against the old Anglo-Saxon clergy ; and soon after that event Oswald succeeded in turning the c lergy (who, according to the phrase- ology of the old writers of his party, ' preferred their wives to the church') from most of the prin- cipal churches in the diocese of Worcester, and substituting monks in their places. In 986, Oswald founded the important abbey of Eamsey, on land which he had obtained from the gift of Earl Aylwin ; and he here established a school, which became one of the most celebrated seats of learning in England during the latter part of the tenth century, under the direction of the learned Abbo, one of the foreign monks whom Oswald had brought hither from Fleury. Oswald's favourite residence appears to have been at Worcester, where his humility and charity were celebrated. It was only towards the close of his life that he finally triumphed over the secular clergy of the old church of St Peter, and from that time his new church of St Mary superseded it and became the cathedral of the diocese. He was present to consecrate the church of Eamsey on the 8th of November 991, and, after some stay there, returned to Worcester, where, in the middle of his duties, he was seized with a disease which carried him off" very suddenly, and he was buried in his church of St Mary. Oswald died on the day before the kalends of March, that is, on the last day of the previous month ; and he is the only saint who takes his place in the calendar for that day. Born. — Edward Cave, printer, 1G92, Xeioton, Warwick; Gioacchino Kossini, 1792, Pesaro. Died. — St Barbas, bisliop of Benevento, 684 ; Arch- bishop John Whitgift, 1603-4, Croydun ; John Landseer, engraver, 1852. ARCHBISHOP WHITGIFT. — HIS CROYDO N. HOSPITAL AT Whitgift, ' one of the worthiest men that ever the English hierarchy did enjoy,' was the third primate of the Protestant Church of England after the Eeformation, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, upon whose death the Archbishop was afraid lest King James should make altera- tions in the government and Liturgy of the church ; and his death was accelerated by this anxiety. He took a prominent part in explaining and defending before tlie King the doctrnies and practices of the church, and was at the head of the Commission appointed for printing a uni- form translation of the Bible, but he did not live to assist in its execution. He caught cold while sailing to Fulham in his barge ; and on the 309 AKCHBISHOP -WniTCrlFT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN DtTNS SCOTtfS. foUoM-ino: Sunday, after a long^ interview witli the Kiui:^. was seized with a tit. wLicli ended in an attack of palsy and loss of speech. The KinLf visited him at Lambeth, and told him that he 'would pray for his life ; and if he could obtain it, he should think it one of the greatest temporal blessings that could be given him in this kingdom.' Ho died on the 29th of February, in the seventy-third year of his age, and was buried in the parish church of Croydon, on the second day after his death ; his funeral was solemnized on the 2rth of jNIarch, in a manner suitable to the splendour in which he had lived. The Archbishop always took a lively interest in the management of public charities, and he left several instances of his munificence. He built and endowed, entirely from his own reve- nues, a hospital, free-school, and chapel, at Croydon, which he completed during his own lifetime. He commenced building the hospital on the 14th of February 1596, and finished it within three years. It is a brick edifice, in the Elizabethan style, at the entrance of the town from London : over the entrance are the armorial bearings of the see of Canterbury, and this in- scription : ' QVI DAT PAVPERI NON INDIGEBIT.' The original yearly revenue was only £185,4s. 2d.; but, by improved rents and sundiy benefactions, it now exceeds £2000 per annum. Each poor brother and sister is to receive £5 per annum, besides wood, corn, and other provisions. Amongst the crimes to be punished by expulsion, are ' obstinate heresye, sorcerye, any kind of charmynge, or witchcrafte.' In the chapel is a portrait of the Archbishop, painted on board ; and an outline delineation of Death, as a skeleton and gravedigger. Among the documents are the patent granted to the founder, with a drawing of Queen Elizabeth, on vellum ; and on the Arch- bishop's deed of foundation is a drawing of him- self, very beautifully executed. In the hall, where the brethren dine together three tunes yearly, is a folio Bible, in black letter, with wooden covers, mounted with brass ; it has Cranmer's prefaces, and was printed in 1596. Here also, formerly, were three ancient wooden goblets, one of which was inscribed : ' What, sirrah ! hold thy pease I Thirst satisfied, cease.' END OF ' LA BELLE JENNINGS.' 29th February, 1730, in a small private nunnery of Poor Clares, in King-street, Dublin, an aged lady was found in the morning", fallen out of bed, stifl' with cold, and beyond recovery. The per- son who died in this obscure and miserable manner had once been the very prime lady of the land, the mistress of Dublin Castle, where she had received a monarch as her guest. At an early period of her life, she had been one of the loveliest figures in the gay and luxurious court of Charles II. She was, in short, the person celebrated as La Belle Jennings, and latterly the wife of that Duke of Tyrconnel who nearly recovered Ireland for King James II. She entered life soon after the Kestoration, as maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and in that position had conducted herself with a pro- 310 priety all the more commendable that it was in her time and place almost unique. As wife of the Duke of Tyrconnel, during his rule in Dub- lin in 1689-90, her conduct appears to have been as dignified, as it had formerly been pure. It is presented in a striking light in Mrs Jameson's account of what happened after the battle of the Boyne — 'where fifteen Talbots of Tyrconnel's family were slain, and he himself fought like a hero of romance.' ' After that memorable defeat,' says our authoress, ' King James and Tyrconnel reached Dublin on the evening of the same day. The Duchess, who had been left in the Castle, had passed four-and-twenty hours in all the agonies of suspense ; but when the worst was known, she showed that the spirit and strength of mind which distinguished her in her early days was not all extinguished. When the King and her husband arrived as fugitives from the lost battle, on which her fortunes and her hopes had depended, harassed, faint, and so covered with mud, that their persons could scarcely be distinguished, she, hearing of their plight, as- sembled aU her household in state, dressed her- self richly, and received the fugitive King and his dispirited friends with all the splendour of court etiquette. Advancing to the head of the grand staircase with all her attendants, she kneeled on one knee, congratulated him on his safety, and invited him to a banquet, respectfully inquiring what refreshment he would be pleased to take at the moment. James answered sadly that he had but little stomach for supper, con- sidering the sorry breakfast he had made that morning. She, however, led the way to a ban- quet already prepared ; and did the honours with as much self-possession and dignity as Lady Macbeth, though racked at the moment with equal terror and anxiety.'* JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. It is a pity that such obscurity rests on the personal history of this light of the middle ages. He was an innovator upon the stereotyped ideas of his age, and got accordingly a dubious reputation among for- mahsts. If he had been solely the author of the following sentence — 'Authority springs from reason, not reason from authority — ti-ue reason needs not be confirmed by any authority' — it would have been worth while for Scotland to contend for the honoiu: of having given him birth. School Exercise. — In several old grammar-schools there was a liberal rule that the boys should have an hour from three tiU four for their drinkings. Some- times the schoolmaster, for want of occupation, employed himself oddly enough. One day a visitor to the school of observing some deep-coloured stains upon the oaken floor, inquired the cause. He was told that they were occasioned by the leakage of a butt of Madeira, wluch the master of the grammar school, who had grown lusty, not having had for some time any scholar who might afford him the opportimity of taking exercise, employed himself upon a rainy day in rolling \x\) and down the schoolroom for the iiurpose of rijjening the wine, and keeping himself in good condition. * Memoirs of the Beauties of the Court of Charles II., vol. ii. p. 223. Stiu-cly March, with brows full sternly bent, And armed strongly, rode upon a ram, The same which over Hellespontus swam, Yet in his hand a spade he also bent And in a bag all sorts of weeds, y same Which on the earth he strewed as he went, And filled her womb with fruitfid hope of nourishment. Spenser. from (DESCRIPTIVE.) is the first month of Spring. He is Nature's Old Forester, going through the woods and dotting the trees with green, to mark out the spots wlierc the future leaves are to The Sim throws a golden glory over the eastern hills, as the village-clock the ivy-covered tower tolls six, gilding the liands and tlie figures that were scarcely visible two hours later a few weeks ago. _ . The streams now hurry along with a rapid motion, as if they had no time to dally with, and play round the impeding pebbles, but were eager to rush along the green meadow-lands, to tell the flowers it is time to awaken. We hear the cottagers greeting each other with kind 'Good morning,' across the paled garden-fences in the sunrise, and talking about the healthy look of the up-coming peas, and the promise in a few days of a dish of early spinach. Under the old oak, sur- rounded with rustic seats, they congregate on the village-erreen, in the mild March evenings, 311 THE BOOK OF DAYS. and talk nbout the forward sprinsx, and how tlioy have battled through the long liard Minter, and, looking towards the green churehyard, speak in low voiees of those who have been borne thither to sleep out their long sleep sinee ' last primrose- time,' and they thank God that they are still alive and well, and are grateful for the line ■weather ' it has pleased Him to send them at last.' jS'ow rustic figures move across the landscape, and give a picturesque life to the scener}^. You see the ploughboy returning from his labour, seated sideways on one of his horses, humming a line or two of some love-lorn ditty, and when his memory fails to supply the words, whistling the remainder of the tune. The butcher-boy rattles merrily by in his blue-coat, throwing a saucy ■word to every one he passes ; and if he thinks at all of the pretty lambs that are bleating in his cart, it is only about how much they will weigh when they are killed. The old woman moves slowly along in her red cloak, with basket on arm, on her way to supply her customers with new-laid eggs. So the figures move over the brown winding I'oads between the budding hedges in red, blue, and grejs such as a painter loves to seize upon to give light, and colour, to his land- scape. A few weeks ago those roads seemed uninhabited. Tlie early-yeaned lambs have now become strong, and may be seen playing with one another, their chief amusement being that of racing, as if they knew what heavy weights their little legs will have to bear when their feeders begin to lay as much mutton on their backs as they can well walk under — so enjoy the lightness of their young lean days. There is no cry so childlike as that of a lamb that has lost its dam, and how eagerly it sets off at the first bleat the ewe gives : in an instant it recognises that sound from all the rest, while to our ears that of the whole flock sounds alike. Dumb animals we may call them, but all of them have a language which they understand ; they give utterance to their feelings of joy, love, and pain, and when in distress call for help, and, as we have witnessed, hurry to the aidof one another. The osier-peelers are now busy at work in the osier-holts ; it is almost the first out-of-door employment the poor people find in spring, and very pleasant it is to see the white-peeled willows lying about to dry on the young grass, though it is cold work by a windy river side for the poor women and children on a bleak March day. As soon as the sap rises, the bark-peelers commence stripping the trees in the woods, and we know but few country smells that equal the aroma of the piled-up bark. But the trees have a strange ghastly look after they are stripped — unless they are at once removed — standing like bleached skeletons when the foliage hangs on the sur- rounding branches. The rumbling wagon is a pretty sight moving through the wood, between openings of the trees, piled high with bark, where wheel never passes, excepting on such occasions, or when the timber is removed. The great ground-bee, that seems to have no hive, goes blundering by, then alights on some green patch of grass in the underwood, though, what he finds there to feed upon is a puzzle to you, even if you kneel down beside him, as we have done, and watch ever so narrowly. How beautiful the cloud and sunshine seem chasing each other over the tender grass ! You see the patch of daisies shadowed for a few moments, then the sunshine sweeps over them, and all their silver frills seem suddenly touched with gold, which the wind sets in motion. Our forefathers well named this month 'March many- weathers,' and said that ' it came in like a lion, and went out like a lamb,' for it is made up of sunshine and cloud, shower and storm, often causing the horn-fisted ploughman to beat his hands across his chest in the morning to Avarm them, and before noon compelling him to throw ofl" his smock-frock and sleeved waistcoat, and wipe the perspiration from his forehead with his shirt sleeve, as he stands between the plough- stilts at the end of the newly-made furrow. Still we can now plant our ' foot upon nine daisies,' and not until that can be done do the old-fashioned country people believe that spring is really come. We have seen a grey-haired grandsire do this, and smile as he called to his old dame to count the daisies, and see that his foot fairly covered the proper number. Ants now begin to run across our paths, and sometimes during a walk in the country you may chance to stumble upon the nest of the wood-ant. At a first glance it looks like a large heap of litter, where dead leaves and short M'ithered grass have been thrown lightly down upon the earth ; perhaps at the moment there is no sign of life about it, beyond a straggler or two at the base of the mound. Thrust in the point of your stick, and all the ground will be alive in a moment ; nothing but a mass of moving ants will be seen where you have probed. Nor will it do to stay too long, for they will be under your trousers and up your boots, and you will soon feel as if scores of red-hot needles were run into you, for they wound sharply. If you want the clean skeleton of a mouse, bird, or any other small animal, throw it on the nest of the wood- ant, and on the following day ymi will find every bone as bare and clean as if it had been scraped. Snakes may now be seen basking in some sunny spot, generally near a water-course, for they are beautiful swimmers and fond of water. They have slept away the winter under the dead leaves, or among the roots, and in the holes of trees, or wherever they could find shelter. In ponds and ditches may also be seen thousands of round- headed long-tailed tadpoles, which, if not de- voured, will soon become nimble young frogs, when they have a little better chance of escaping the jaws of fishes and wildfowl, for no end of birds, fishes, reptiles, and quadrupeds feed on them. Only a few weeks ago the frogs were in a torpid state, and sunk like stones beneath the mud. Since then they left those black spots, which may Tje seen floating in a jellied mass on the water, and soon from this spawn the myriads of lively tadpoles we now see sprang into life. Experienced gardeners never drive frogs out of their grounds, as they are great destroyers of slugs, which seem to be their favourite food. Amongst the tadpoles the water-rat may now be seen swimming about and nibbling at some leaf. MAECH— DESCEIPTIVE. or ovcrlianglng blade of grass, liia tail acting as a rudder, by which he can steer himself into any little nook, wheresoever he may take a fancy to go. If you are near enough, you will see his rich silky hair covered with bright silver-like bubbles as they sink into the water, and he is a most graceful swimmer. The entrance to his nest is generally under the water ; throw a stone and he will dive down in a moment, and when he has passed the watery basement, he at once ascends his warm dry nest, in which, on one occa- sion, a gallon of potatoes was found, that he had hoarded iip to last him through the winter. Pleasant is it on a fine March day to stand on some rustic bridge — it may be only a plank thrown across the stream — and watch the fishes as they glide by, or pause and turn in the water, or to see the great pike basking near the surface, as if asleep in the sunshine. Occasionally a bird will dart out from the sedge, or leave off tugging at the head of the tall bulrush, and hasten away between the willows, that seem to give a silvery shiver, every time the breeze turns up the underpart of their leaves to the light. In solitary places, by deep watercourses, the solemn plunge of the otter may sometimes be heard, as he darts in after his prey, or you may start him from the bank where he is feeding on the fish he has captured. Violets, which Shakspeare says are ' sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,' impregnate the March winds with their fragrance, and it is amazing what a distance the perfume is borne on the air from the spot where they grow ; and, but for thus betraying themselves, the places where they nestle together would not always be found. Though called the wood-violet, it is oftener found on sunny embankments, under the shelter of a hedge, than in the woods ; a Avood- side bank that faces the south may often be seen diapered with both violets and primroses. Though it is commonly called the ' blue violet,' it ap- proaches nearer to purple in colour. The scent- less autumn violets are blue. No lady selecting a violet-coloured dress would choose a blue. The ' dark-velvet ' is a name given to it by our old poets, who also call it ' wine-coloured ;' others call the hue ' watchet,' which is blue. But let it be compared with the blue-bell, beside which it is often found, and it will appear purple in contrast. Through the frequent mention made of it by Shakspeare, it must have been one of his favourite flowers ; and as it still grows abundantly in the neighbourhood of Stratford-on-Avon, it may perhaps yet be found scenting the March air, and standing in the very same spots by which he paused to look at it. Like the rose, it retains its fragrance long after the flower is dead. The perfume of violets and the song of the black- cap are delights which may often be enjoyed together while walking out at this season of the year, for the blackcap, whose song is only equalled by that of the nightingale, is one of the earliest birds that arrives. Though he is a droll-looking little fellow in his black wig, which seems too big for his head, yet, listen to him ! and if you have never heard him before, you will hear such music as you would liardly think such an organ as a bird's throat could make. There is one silvery shake which no other bird can compass : it sinks down to the very lowest sound music is capable of making, and yet is as distinct as the low ring of a silver bell. The nightingale has no such note : for there is an unapproachable depth in its low sweetness. While singing, its throat is wonderfully distended, and the whole of its little body shivers with delight. Later in the season, it often builds its compact nest amid the shelter- ing leaves of the ivy, in which it lays four or five eggs, which are fancifully dashed with darker spots of a similar hue. Daisies, one of the earliest known of our old English flowers that still retains its Saxon name, are now in bloom. It was called the day's-eye, and the eye-of-day, as far back as we have any records of our history. ' It is such a wanderer,' says a quaint old writer, ' that it must have been one of the first flowers that strayed and grew outside the garden of Eden.' Poets have de- lighted to call them ' stars of the earth,' and Chaucer describes a green valley ' with daisies powdered over,' and great was his love for this beautiful flower. He tells us how he rose early in the morning, and went out again in the even- ing, to see the day's-eye open and shut, and that he often lay down on his side to watch it unfold. But beautiful as its silver rim looks, streaked sometimes with red, ' as if grown in the blood of our old battle-fields,' says the above-quoted writer, stiU it is a perfect compound flower, as one of those little yellow florets which form its ' golden boss ' or crown will show, when carefully examined. Whatever may be said of Linna?u3, Chaucer was the first who discovered that the daisy slept, for he teUs us how he went out, ' To see this flower, how it will go to red, For fear of night, so hateth it the darkness.' He also calls the opening of the daisy ' its resur- rection,' so that nearly five centuries ago the sleep of plants was familiar to the Father of English Poetry. Now the nests of the black- bird and thrush may be seen in the hedges, before the leaves are fully out, for they are our earliest builders, as well as the first to awaken Winter with their songs. As if to prepare better for the cold, to which their young are ex- posed, through being hatched so soon as they are, they both plaster their nests inside with mud, until they are as smooth as a basin. They begin singing at the first break of dawn, and may be heard again as the day closes. We have frequently heard them before three in the morn- ing in summer. The blackbird is called ' golden bill ' by country people, and the ' ouzel cock ' of our old ballad poetry. It is not easy to tell males from females during the first year, but in the second year the male has the 'golden bill.' If undisturbed, the blackbird will build for many seasons in the same spot, often only repairing its old nest. No young birds are more easily reared, as they will eat almost anything. Both the nests and eggs of the thrush and blackbird are much alike. Sometimes, while peeping about to discover these rounded nests, we catch sight of the ger- mander-speedwell, one of the most beautiful of our March flowers, bearing such a blue as is THE BOOK OF DAYS. only at times seen on tlic clianging sky ; we know no blue Hower that can be compared with it. The ivy-leavod veronica may also now be found, though it is a very small ilower, and must be sought ibr very near the ground. Now and then, but not always, we have found the graceful wood-anemone in ilower in March, and very pleasant it is to come unaware upon a bed of these pretty plants in bloom, they shew such a play of shifting colours when stirred by the wind, now turning their reddish-purple outside to the light, then waving back again, and showing the rich white-grey inside the petals, as if white and purple lilacs were mixed, and blowing together. The leaves, too, are very beautifully cut : and as the flower has no proper calyx, the pendulous cup droops gracefully, ' hanging its head aside,' like Shakspeare's beautiful Barbara. If— through the slightest breeze setting its droop- ing bells in motion — the old Greeks called it the wind flower, it was happily named, for we see it stirring when there is scarce more life in the air than On a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass. ' The wheat-ear, which country children say, ' some bird blackened its eye for going away,' now makes its appearance, and is readUy known by the black mark which, runs from the ear to the base of the biU. Its notes are very low and sweet, for it seems too fat to strain itself, and we have no doubt could sing much louder if it pleased. It is considered so delicious a morsel, that epicures have named it the British ortolan, and is so fat it can scarcely fly when wheat is ripe. Along with it comes the pretty wiUow- wren, which is easily known by being yellow underneath, and through the light colour of its legs. It lives entirely on insects, never touching either bloom or fruit like the bullfinch, and is of great value in our gardens, when at this season such numbers of insects attack the blossoms. But one of the most curious of our early comers is the little wryneck, so called because he is always twisting Ms neck about. When boys, we only knew it by the name of the willow-bite, as it always lays its eggs in a hole in a tree, without ever troubling itself to make a nest. When we put our hand in to feel for the eggs, if the bird was there it hissed like a snake, and many a boy Lave we seen whip his fingers out when he heard that alarming sound, c^uicker than ever he put them in, believing that a snake was concealed in the hole. It is a famous destroyer of ants, which it takes up so rapidly on its glutinous tongue, that no human eye can foUow the motion, for the ants seem impelled forward by some secret power, as one writer observes : ' as if drawn by a magnet.' This bird can both hop and walk, though it does not step out so soldier- like as the beautiful wagtail. Sometimes, while listening to the singing birds in spring, you will find all their voices hushedin a moment, andunless you are famdiar with country objects, wUl be at a loss to divine the cause. Though you may not have heard it, some bird has raised a sudden cry of alarm, which causes them all to rush into the hedges and bushes for safety. That bird had 314 seen the hovering hawk, and knew that, in another moment or so, he would drop down sudden as a thunderbolt on the first victim that he fixed his far-seeing eyes upon ; and his rush is like the speed of thought. But he always remains nearly motionless in the air before he strikes, and this the birds seem to know, and their sight must be keen to see him so high up as he generally is before he strikes. In the hedges they are safe, as there is no room there for the spread of his wings ; and if he misses his quarry, he never makes a second dart at it. Sometimes the hawk catches a Tartar, as the one did that pounced upon and carried off a weasel, which, when high in the air, ate into the hawk's side, causing him to come down dead as a stone, when the weasel, who retained his hold of the hawk, ran oif, not appearing to be the least injured after his unexpected elevation. What a change have the March winds pro- duced in the roads ; they are now as hard as they were during the winter frost. But there was no cloud of dry dust then as there is now. When our forefathers repeated the old proverb which says, ' A peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom,' did they mean, we wonder, that its value lay in loosening and drying the earth, and making it fitter to till ? In the old gardening books a dry day in March, is always recommended for putting seed into the ground. To one who does not mind a noise there is great amusement to be found now in living near a rookery, for there is always something or another going on in that great airy city overhead, if it only be, as Washington Irving says, ' quar- relling for a corner of the blanket' while in their nests. They are nearly all thieves, and think nothing of stealing the foundation from one another's houses during the building season. When some incorrigible blackguard cannot be beaten into order, they all unite and drive him away ; neck and crop do they bundle him out. Let him only shew so much as his beak in the rookery again after his ejectment, and the whole police force are out and at him in a moment. No peace wUl he ever have there any more during that season, though perhaps he may make it up again with them during the next winter in the woods. We like to hear them cawing from the windy high elm-trees, which have been a rookery for centuries, and which overhang some old hall grey with the moss and lichen of forgotten years. The sound they make seems to give a quiet dreamy air to the whole landscape, and we look upon such a spot as an ancient English home, standing in a land of peace. (historical.) We derive the present name of this month from the Komans, among whom it was at an early period the first month of the year, as it continued to be in several countries to a com- paratively late period, the legal year beginning even in England on the 25th. of March, till the change of the style in 1752. For commencing the year with this month there seems a suffi- cient reason in the fact of its being the first season, after the dead of the year, in which ST DAVID. MAECH 1. decided symptoms of a renewal of growtli take place. And for the Eomans to dedicate their first month to Mars, and call it Martins, seems equally natural, considering tlie importance they attached to war, and the use they made of it. Among our Saxon forefathers, the month bore the name of Lenet-monat, —i)x?it is, length-month, —in reference to the lengthening of the day at this season, — the origin also of the term Lent. ' The month,' says Brady, ' is portrayed as a man of a tawny colour and fierce aspect, with a helmet on his head — so far typical of Mars — Avhile, appropriate to the season, he is represented leaning on a spade, holding almond blossoms and scions in his left hand, with a basket of seeds on his arm, and in his right hand the sign Aries, or the Earn, which the sun enters on the 20th of this month, thereby denoting the augmented power of the sim's rays, which in ancient hiero- glyphics were expressed by the horns of animals. CHARACTERISTICS OF MARCH. March is noted as a dry month. Its dust is looked for, and becomes a subject of congratu- lation, on account of the importance of dry weather at this time for sowing and planting. The idea has been embodied in proverbs, as ' A peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom,' and ' A dry March never begs its bread.' Blus- tering winds usually prevail more or less through- out a considerable part of the month, but mostly in the earlier portion. Hence, the month appears to change its character as it goes on ; the re- mark is, ' It comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.' The mean temperature of the month for London is stated at 43-9° ; for Perth, in Scotland, at 43° ; but, occasionally, winter reappears in all its fierceness. At London the sun rises on the first day at 6'34 ; on the last at 5"35, being an extension of upwards of an hour. flf STardj. St David, archbishop of Caerleon, patron of Wales, 544. St Albinus, of Angers, 549. St Swidbert, or Swibert, of Northumberland, bishop, 713. Scotland, martyr, 374. St Monan, of St gabiir. David, popularly termed the titular saint of Wales, is said to have been the son of a prince of Cardiganshire of the ancient regal line of Cunedda Wledig ; some, also, state that he was the son of Xanthus, son of Ceredig, lord of Cere- digion, and Non, daughter of Gynyr of Caergawh, Pembrokeshire. St David has been invested by his legendary biographers with extravagant de- coration. According to their accounts, he had not merely the power of working miracles from the moment of his birth, but the same preter- natural faculty is ascribed to him while he was yet unborn ! An angel is said to have been his constant attendant on his first appearance on earth, to minister to his wants, and contribute to his edification and relaxation; the Bath waters became warm and salubrious through his agency ; he healed complaints and re-animated the dead ; whenever he preached, a snow-white dove sat upon his shoulder! Among other things,— as pulpits were not in fashion in those times,— the earth on which he preached was raised from its level, and became a hill ; from whence his voice was heard to the best advantage. Among these popular legends, the pretended life of St David, in Welsh, in the Cotton MSS. (D. xxu.), is the most remarkable for its spurious embellishments. His pedigree is here deduced from the Virgin Mary, of whom it makes him the lineal eigh- teenth descendant ! But leaving the region of 315 THE BOOK OP DAYS. fiction, there is no doubt that the valuable ser- vices of St David to the British church entitle Lim to a very distiuijuishcd position in its early annals. He is numbered in the Triads M-ith Teilo and Catwg as one of the ' three canonized saints of Britain.' Giraldus terms him ' a mirror and pattern to all, instructing both by word and example, excellent in his preaching, biit still more so in his Avorks. He was a doctrine to all, a guide to the religious, a life to the poor, a support to orphans, a protection to widows, a father to the fatherless, a rule to monks, and a model to teachers ; becoming all to all, that so he might gain all to God.' To this, his moral character, St David added a high character for theological learning ; and two productions, a Book of lloviilics, ancl a Treaiise against the Pelagians, have been ascribed to him. St David received his early education at Menevia, (derived from Main-aw, ' a narrow water,' frith or strait), named afterwards Ty Ddewi, ' David's House,' answering to the pi'e- sent St David's, which was a seminary of learning and nursery of saints. At this place, some years after, he founded a convent in tJie Vale of Bhos. The discipline which St David enjoined in this monastic retreat is represented as of the most rigorous nature. After the Synod at Brevy, in 519, Dubricius, or Dyvrig, Archbishop of C'aer- leon, and consequently Primate of Wales, re- signed his see to St David, who removed the archiepiscopal residence to Menevia, the present St David's, where he died about the year 544, after having attained a very advanced age. The saint was buried in the cathedral, and a monu- ment raised to his memory. It is of simple construction, the ornaments consisting of one row of four quatrefoil openings upon a plain tomb. _ St David appears to have had more supersti- tious honours paid to him in England than in his native country. Thus, before the Reforma- tion, the following collect was read in the old church of Sarum on the 1st of March : — ' Oh God, who by thy angel didst foretel thy blessed Confessor St David, thirty years before he was born, grant unto us, we beseech thee, that cele- brating his memory, we may, by his intercession, attain to joys everlasting.' iHscr'qjllon for a monument in the Vale of Eivias. ' Here was it, stranger, that the Patron Saint Of Cambria, passed his age of peuiteuce, A solitary man ; and here he made His hermitage, the roots his food, liis drink Of Hodney's mountaiia stream. Perchance thy youth Has read, with eager wonder, how the knight Of Wales, in Ormaudine's enchanted bower, Slept the long sleep : and if that in thy veins Flow the jmre blood of Britain, sure that blood Hath flowed with quicker impulse at the tale Of David's deeds, when thro' the press of war His gallant comrades followed his green crest To conquest. Stranger ! Hatterill's mountain heights And this fair vale of Ewias, and the stream Of Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will rise iviore grateful, thus associate with the name Of David, and the deeds of other days.' — Southev, 310 Born. — Dr Jolin Pell, mathematician, \\iC of Ctkeitce al;ulln \vas a nsurpor, ■with tlio stain of iuiii-atitude to his early masters, tliere must liave been splendid qualities in a man who, born a Khoord in a moderate rank of life, raised himself to be the ruler of Egypt, Arabia, Syria, Mesopotamia, and the finest tracts of Asia Minor, all in the eourse of a life of fifty-seven years. He left his vast territories amongst his seven- teen sons ; but their rule was everywhere of short duration. BEKXARD Gll.riX, HIS HOSPITALITY AND PREACHING. This good man, born in TTestmoreland in 1517, and by his mother related to Cuthbert Tunstall, the enlightened Bishop of Durham, through that pi-elate was appointed to the valuable rectory of Houghton-le-Spriug. This was in the reign of Marj^, a dangerous time for one of such Protestant tendencies as he. Entering at once upon his duties, he did not hesitate to preach the doc- trines of the Heformation, and was accordingly very soon accused to Bishop Bonner. Gilpin obeyed the summons of the unpitying prelate, and, fullj' expecting to suffer at the stake, before setting out he said to his house-steward, ' Give me a long garment, that I may die with decency.' As he journeyed with the ministers of the bishop, he is said to have broken his leg, which, delaying his journey, saved his life, Mary dying in the interval. Gilpin then returned in joy and peace to his parishioners at Houghton. Queen Eliza- beth oflered him the bishopric of Carlisle, which he declined ; and he continued to his death the rector of Houghton. He visited the ruder parts of Northumberland, where the people subsisted mostly on plunder, fearlessly holding forth to them the commands and sanctions of Chris- tianity, and thus did much to change the character of the county. From these useful services he was often called the Northern Apostle. Houghton, being then, as now, a rich bene- fice, yielded Gilpin an ample income. His hospitality resembled that of the primitive bishops : every fortnight, forty bushels of corn, twenty bushels of malt, and a whole ox, besides other provisions, were consumed in the rectory- house, which was open to all travellers. With equal zeal and assiduity, he settled diiferences among his parishioners, provided instruction for the young, and prayed by the bedsides of the sick and poor. THOMAS RICKMAN. To Thomas Bickman belongs the merit of dis- criminating and classifying the styles resulting from progressive changes in the Gothic archi- tecture of the middle ages, as clearly as to William Smith belongs the honour of first classi- fying strata by their respective shells. It must ever be felt as a curious and anomalous circum- stance, that the genius who did us this service, and who ultimately gained celebrity by the vast number of Gothic churches which he built in 332 England, was by birth and up-bringing a member of the Society of Friends, whose principle it is to attach no consequence whatever to the forms of ' steeple-houses.' ' DEMANDS JOYOUS.' How our ancestors managed to pass the long winter evenings in the olden time, has never been satisfactorily explained. They had no new books, indeed icw books of any kind, to read or talk about. Newspapers were unknown ; a wander- ing beggar, minstrel, or pedler circulated the very small amount of news that was to be told. The innumerable subjects of interest that form our ordinary topics of conversation were then utterly unknown. So we can only conclude that our ancestors, like some semi-savage tribes at the present day, passed their spare hours in relating often-told stories, and exercised their wits in asking each other puzzling questions or riddles. Many copies of what we would now term riddle-books, are found in both the French and English collections of old manuscripts, and some were printed at an early period. One of these, entitled Demands Joyous, which may be rendered Amusing Questions, was printed in English by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1511. From this work, of which one copy only is said to be extant, we cull a few ' demands,' with their responses, for the amusement of the reader ; the greater part of them being too strongly impreg- nated with indecency and profanity to be pre- sentable here : De)n. What bare the best biu'den that ever was borne ? lies. The ass that carried our Lady, when she fled with om- Lord into Egypt. £>ein. What became of that ass ? lies. Adam's mother ate her. Don. Who was Adam's mother ? Hes. The earth. Dem. How many calves' tails would it take to reach from the earth to the sky ? Bes. No more than one, if it be long enough. Dem. What is the distance from the surface of the sea to the deepest part thereof ? Jies. Only a stone's throw. Dem. When Antichrist appears in the world, what wlU be the hardest thing for him to understand ? Be-s. A hand-barrow, for of that he shall not know which end ought to go foremost. Dem. What is it that never was and never will be? Bes. A mouse's nest in a cat's ear. Dem. Why do men make an oven in a town ? Bes. Because they cannot make a town in an oven. Dem.. How may a man discern a cow in a flock of sheep ? Bes. By his eyesight. Dem. Why doth a cow lie down ? Bes. Because it cannot sit. Dem. What is it that never freezeth ? Bes. Boiling water. Dem. Which was first, the hen or the egg ? Bes. The hen, at the creation. Dem. How many straws go to a goose's nest ? Bes. Not one, for straws not ha\'iDg feet cannot go anywhere. Dem. Who killed the fourth part of all the people in the world ? Be.s. Cain when he killed Abel. Dem. What is it that is a builder, and yet not a ' DEMANDS JOYOUS.' MAECIi 5. THTl FIEST lOCOMOTIVE. man, doeth what no man can do, and yet serveth both God and man ? Jies. A bee. Dem. What man getteth his living backwards ? Hes. A ropemaker. Dem. How would you say two paternosters, when yon know God made but one paternoster ? Jies. Say one twice over. Dejn. Which are the most profitable saints of the church ? Jies. Those painted on the glass windows, for they keep the wind from wasting the candles. Dem. Who were the persons that made all, and sold all, that bought all and lost all ? Jies. A smith made an awl and sold it to a shoe- maker, who lost it. Dem. Why doth a dog turn round three times be- fore he lieth down ? Jies. Because he knoweth not his bed's head from the foot thereof. De/n. What is the worst bestowed charity that one can give ? Jies. Alms to a blind man ; for he would be glad to see the person hanged that gave it to him. Dem. What is the age of a tield-mouse ? Jies. A year. And the age of a hedgehog is three times that of a mouse, and the life of a dog is three times that of a hedge-hog, and the life of a horse is three times that of a dog, and the life of a man is three times that of a horse, and the life of a goose is three times that of a man, and the life of a swan is three times that of a goose, and the life of a swallow three times that of a swan, and the life of an eagle three times that of a swallow, and the life of a ser- pent three times that of an eagle, and the life of a raven is three times that of a .serpent, and the life of a hart is three times that of a raven, and an oak groweth five himdred years, and fadeth five hundred years. MARCH 5. Saints Adrian and Eubulus, of Palestine, martyrs, 309. St Kiaran, of Ireland, bishop, 4th century. St Roger, a Franciscan, 123G. Bo7-n. — John Collins, F.R.S., accountant, 1624, Wood- enton ; Dr George Stanhope, Dean of Canterbury, 1660, Llartshorne. Died. — Odoacer, King of Italy, a.d. 493 ; Alphonso II. (of Portugal), 1223, Akobaca ; Antonio Allegri Cor- reggio, painter, 1534, Correggio ; Henri I., Prince of Conde, 1588; Pope Clement VIII., 1605; James Duke of Hamilton, 1649, beheaded, Old Palace Yard ; Arthur, Lord Capell, beheaded, 1649; Henry Earl of Holland, beheaded, 1649; Pjishop Beveridge, 1708; the Rev. Dr Philip Francis, 1773, Bath; Dr Thomas Arne, musical composer, 1778; the Marquis de la Place, philosopher, 1827; Alexander Volta (Voltaism), 1827, Como ; Dr Lant Carpenter, miscellaneous writer, 1840; M. J. B. Orfila, physician and chemist, 1853. DR ARNE, THE MUSICAL COMPOSER. Dr Thomas Augustine Arne, with whose lank features we are familiar through the character- istic portrait of him by Bartolozzi, was the son of an upholsterer, in King-street, Covent-garden, at whose house were lodged the Indian kings, mentioned in the Spectator as visiting England in the reign of Queen Anne. Young Arne was educated at Eton, and intended for the profession of the law ; but progress in that or any other such pursuit was impossible. Every energy of the young man's mind was absorbed in music. The father having positively forbidden him this study, he secreted a spinnet in his room, and, muffling the strings, practised in the night, while the rest of the family were asleep. It is also related that the youth would steal in the disguise of a livery into the servants' gallery of tlie opera-hou.se. Nevertheless, he served a three years' clerkship to the law. In the meantime, he took lessons on the violin of Festing, under whom he made rapid pi'ogress, of which his father had no suspicion, till going to a concert one evening, he was asto- nished to see his son playing the iirst fiddle most skilfully. The elder Arne now gave up resist- ance, and consented to his son teaching his sister, Mrs Gibber, to sing ; and for her he set Addi- son's opera of Sosamond. In 1738, the young musician established his reputation by his Comiis, which he composed in the back parlour of a house in Craven-buildings, Wych-street. The melody of Arne at this time, and of his Vaux- hall-gardens songs afterwards, forms an era in English music, and was long the standard of per- fection at our theatres and public gardens. But the work which has most contributed to his fame is his At'taxcrxes, translated from Metas- tasio's Artacerses, which with the talents of Tenducci, Peretti, and Arne's pupil. Miss Brent, had very great success : he sold the copyright for sixty guineas, then considered a large sum for such a property. Its general melody has been analysed as neither Italian nor English, but an agreeable mixture of Italian, English, and Scots. His music for the dramatic songs of Shakspeare attained great popularity, which it still enjoys. Of his song of ' Exile, Britannia,' it may be said that it would have preserved and endeared his name with the English nation throughout all time, though he had never com- posed another. Altogether, he arranged for the stage upwards of thirty musical pieces. He died March 5, 1778, and was buried in the church of St Paul, Covent-garden. He was a singular instance of that predestinate taste, which is to be accounted for only by peculiar organization, the existence of which, among other less splendid instances, has been since confirmed by Crotch, Himmel, and Mozart. Arne's was, indeed, the pure and unbought love of the art, generated by the pleasui'able perception of sweet sounds. THE FIRST LOCOMOTIVE IN THE BRITANNIA TUBE. It must have been an anxious day for the late Robert Stephenson when he first sent a locomo- tive engine through the wonderful Britannia tubular bridge over the Menai Straits, — an anxious day, but probably not a distrustful one ; for he, like all our great engineers, knew his own strength, and relied on the soundness of the principles which had guided him. Assuredly it was no small difficulty which he had been called upon to overcome. While the Chester and Holyhead Ilailway was being con- structed, Stephenson pondered how it should cross the Menai. Telford's beautiful suspension 333 THE FIEST LOCOMOTIVE. THE BOOK OP DAYS. THE FIEST LOCOMOTIVE. bridge beinc; deemed too sliglit for the purpose, he phinned a tube or hollow girder, through M-hic'h a train might pass as through a tunnel. To make such a tunnel of sheet iron, stiff enough to resist any tendency to bending, was a formi- dable task. The Menai Strait, at the point selected for the crossing, is about eleven hundred feet wide at high water ; in the middle is a rock called the Britannia rock, rising a few feet above high water level. Stephenson resolved to erect a pier of masonry on the rock, so as to break the span of the strait into two portions. To ensure manageable dimensions, it was determined that there should be two tubes, one for the up and one for the down trains. A masonry tower was to support the Caernarvon end of the tubes, and another to support the Anglesea end. There would thus therefore be four separate tubes, forming two when joined end to end. JMighty were the engineering agencies brought to bear upon the work, and long was the period during which the operations continued. Should the tube be of cast iron or wrought? Should the cross section be square, circiilar, or oval? Before these questions coidd be properly an- swered, the skill of Stephenson, Fairbairn, Hodgkinson, and other eminent engineers was taxed to the utmost, and the company spent a large sum of money in preliminary experiments. Tears rolled on ; and it was not until 1850, that the trains could cross the bridge that was com- menced in 1845. There was the Britannia Tower to build, a large mass of masonry higher than the Monument near London-bridge, and con- taining twenty thousand tons of stone. There were the Caernarvon and Anglesea Towers to construct, on nearly as massive a scale. There were the vast abutments further inland ; for which j\Ir Thomas, whose carvings in stone at the new Houses of Parliament display so much skill, was employed to sculpture four lions couchant twenty-five feet long, majestic in their colossal repose. But the tubes were the most important achievement ; each tube is a hollow trunk varying from twenty-five to thirty feet in height, and about fifteen feet wide. The top and bottom are cellular, to insure increased strength. All parts alike, sides and cells, are formed of very tnick sheet or plate iron, strength- ened with angle-irons, and riveted. Never, perhaps, was there such another job of riveting as this ; more than tioo million rivets were driven red hot into holes punched in the plates ! Four gigantic tubes were thus built up piece by piece, on platforms ranged along the Caernarvon shore. Probably the greatest lift, in a mechanical sense, ever effected, was the lifting of these tubes — each of which weighed nearly two thousand tons, and had to be raised a clear height of one hundred feet. Each tube was removed from its platform to eight floating pontoons, and was towed upon them to its place between the towers. Then, by a most extraordinary combination of chains, pulleys, hydraulic-machines, and steam-power, each tube was steadily raised inch by inch, until at length it reached its proper elevation, where suitable supports for its ends were provided. The Menai Strait had never before known such a holi- day as that which marked the day selected for 334 raising the first of the tubes. Engineers of emi- nence came from all parts of the United King- dom, and from foreign countries, to mark critically Stephenson's great achievements ; directors and shareholders came to witness a work on which so many hundred thousand pounds of their capital had been expended ; while curiosity- seekers, congregating from the neighbouring counties, swelled the number of those who lined both sides of the strait. Amid the busy hum of preparations, and movements which could be understood only by those versed in engineering science, one figure was above or apart from all others — it was Kobert Stephenson, directing and controlling the work of vast bodies of mechanics and labourers. It was a long day, a day of eigh- teen hours' continuous work, to raise each tube to its height of a hundred feet. Many may guess, but none can know, the feelings that agitated the mind of the great engineer on this day. Perhaps ' agitate ' is not the proper word, he was too self-possessed to be agitated ; but the ordeal must nevertheless have been a.terrible one — seeing that a mishap might bring the whole enterprise to ruin. And when, many months afterwards, the tubes were properly adjusted end to end, and a conti- nuous tunnel made, the passage of the first loco- motive through it was another great event to be recorded in the history of the mighty Britannia- bridge. Each portion of tube had shewn itself firm and stift' enough to bear bravely the lifting process ; but would the tubes, as a continuous tunnel, bear the rush and pressure, the rattle and vibration, of a ponderous locomotive ? The 5th of March 1850, was the day selected for practi- cally solving this problem ; and the solution bore out in every way the calculations of the engineer. Three locomotives, of the heaviest character known to the narrow gauge, were chained end to end. They were decked with the flags of all nations. Robert Stephenson acted as driver of the leading locomotive, and other men of science stood or sat wherever it was most convenient. This weight of ninety tons was driven to the centre of one of the tubes, where it was allowed to remain stationary, with its full dead weight, for a few minutes ; and the same took place on the return trip. Then a coal-train of three hundred tons was driven through, and then another train of two hundred tons was allowed to rest with all its weight, for two hours, in the centre of the tube. The plates and rivets bore the test triumphantly ; and thus was completed a modern wonder of the world.* * We are not aware whether Mr Stephenson, before his death, rectified his views concerning the relative claims of himself and Mr W. Fairbairn, concerning the tubular principle for bridges. In the elaborate researches carried on in 1845, Mr Fairbairn was the principal experimen- talist ; but when the reports came to be made public, it appeared that Mr Stephenson spoke of himself as the originator of the main idea, realized under his own eye by the aid of Messrs Fairbairn and Hodgivinson ; whereas Mr Fairbairn has always contended and supported his argument in full in his engineering works, that he was the veritable inventor of the most important feature in the bridge. BISHOP ATTERBUKY. MAECH 6. MOTHERING SUNDAY. MARCH 6. St Fridolin, abbot, 538. St Baldred, of Scotland, about 608. Saints Kyneburge, Kyneswide, and Tibba, 7th century. St Cbrodegang, bishop of Metz, 766. St Cadroe, about 975. Colette, virgin and abbess, 1447. Born. — Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter, sculptor, and architect, 1474, Chiusi ; Francesco Guicciardini, diplomatist, 1482, Florence ; Bishop Francis Atterbury, 1662, Milton; Vice-Admiral Sir Charles Napier, 1786, 3Ierchistoun, Lied. — Roger Lord Grey de Ruthyn, 1352 ; Sir John Havvkwood, first English general, 1393, Florence; Zicbary Ursinus, German divine, \b9:i, Neustadt ; Philip, third Earl of Leicester, 1693 ; Lord Chief Justice Sir John Holt, 1710, Redgrave ; Philip, first Earl of Hard- wicke, Lord Chancellor, 1764, Wimpole ; G. T. F. Raj'nal, philosophical historian, 1796, Passey ; the Rev. Dr Samuel Parr, 1825, Hatton ; George Mickle Kemp, architect (Scott Monument), Edinburgh ; Professor Heeren, history and antiquities ; Benjamin Travers, surgeon, 1858. BISHOP ATTERBURY. In Atterbury we find one of tlie numerous sliipwrecks of history. Learned, able, eloquent, the Bishop of Eochester lost all through hasty, incorrect thinking, and an impetuous and arro- gant temper. He had convinced himself that the exiled Stuart princes might be restored to the throne by the simple process of bringing up the next heir as a Protestant, failing to see that the contingency on which he rested was unattain- able. One, after all, admires the courage which prompted the fiery prelate, at the death of Queen Anne, to offer to go out in his lawn sleeves and proclaim the son of James II., which would have been a directly treasonable act ; we must also admit that, though he doubtless was guilty of trea- son in favour of the Stuarts, the bill by which he lost his position and was condemned to exile (1723), proceeded on imperfect evidence, and was a dangerous kind of measure. To consider Atter- bury as afterwards attached to the service of the so-called Pretender, — wasting bright faculties on the petty intrigues of a mock court, and gradually undergoing the stern correction of Fact and Truth for the illusory political visions to which he had sacrificed so much, — is a reflection not without its pathos, or its lesson. Atterbury ultimately felt the full weight of the desolation which he had brought upon himself. He died at Paris, on the 15th of February 1732. A specimen of the dexterous wit of Atterbury in debate is related in connection with the history of the Occasional Conformity and Schism BUls, December 1718. On that occasion. Lord Con- ingsby rebuked the Bishop for having, the day before, assumed the character of a prophet. ' In Scripture,' said this simple peer, ' I find a f)ropliet very like him, namely Balaam, who, ike the right reverend lord, drove so very furi- ously, that the ass he rode upon was constrained to open his mouth and reprove him.' The luckless lord having sat down, the bishop rose with a demure and humble look, and having thanked his lordship for taking so much notice of him, went on to say that ' the application of Balaam to him, though severe, was certainly very happy, the terms prophet and priest being often promiscuously used. There wanted, however, the application of the ass ; and it seemed as if his lordship, being the only person who had reproved him, must needs take that character upon him- self.' From that day, Lord Coningsby was com- monly recognised by the appellation of ' Atter- bury's Pad.' G. M. KEMP. The beauty of the monument to Sir Walter Scott at Edinburgh becomes the more impressive Avhen we reflect that its designer was a man but recently emerged at the time from the position of a working carpenter. It is a Gothic structure, about 185 feet high, with exquisite details, mostly taken from Melrose Abbey. Kemp's was one of a number of competing plans, given in with the names of the designers in sealed envelopes ; so that nothing could be more genuine than the testimony thus paid to his extraordinary genius. In his earlier days as a working carpenter, Kemp adopted the plan of travelling from one great continental dom-kirk or cathedral to another, supporting himself by his handicraft whUe study- ing the architecture of the building. It was wonderful how much knowledge he thus acquired, as it were at his own hand, in the course of a few years. He never obtained any more regular education for his eventual profession. Kemp was a man of modest, almost timid demeanour, very unlike one designed to push his way in the world. After becommg a person of note, as entrusted with the construction of Scotland's monument to the most gifted of her sons, he used to relate, as a curious circumstance, the only con- nexion he had ever had with Scott in life. TravelUng toilsomely one hot day between Peebles and Selkirk, with his tools over his back, he was overtaken by a carriage containing a grey- haired gentleman, whom he did not know. The gentleman, observing him, stopped the carriage, and desired the coachman to invite the wayfaring lad to a seat on the box. He thiis became the subject of a characteristic piece of benevolence to the illustrious man with whose name he was afterwards to meet on so different a level. Most sad to relate, while the monument was in the progress of construction, the life of the architect was cut short by accident, he having fallen into a canal one dark evening, in the course of his homeward walk. MIDLENT, OR MOTHERING SUNDAY. In the year 1864, the 6th of March is the fourth Sunday in Lent, commonly called Midlent Sunday. Another popular name for the day is Mothering Sunday, from an ancient observance connected with it. The harshness and general painfulness of life in old times must have been much relieved by certain simple and aflectionate customs which modern people have learned to dispense with. Amongst these was a practice of going to see parents, and especially the female one, on the mid Sunday of Lent, taking for them some little 335 MOTHEKING SUNDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SIMNEL CAKES. present, such as n calce or a trinket. A j'ontli engaged in this amiable act of duty was said to go a-i)iof/ieriii(f, and thence the day itself came to be called ]\iotheriug Sunday. One can readily imagine how, after a stripling or maiden had gone to service, or launched in independent housekeeping, the old bonds of filial love would be brightened b}' this pleasant annual visit, sig- nalised, as custom demanded it should be, by the excitement attending some novel and perhaps surprising gift. There was also a cheering and peculiar festivitj' appropriate to the day, the prominent dish being furmefjj — which we have to interpret as wheat grains boiled in sweet milk, sugared and spiced. In the northern parts of England, and in Scotland, there seems to have been a greater leaning to steeped pease fried in butter, with pepper and salt. Pancakes ro composed passed by the name of carUiujs ; and so conspicuous was this article, that from it Carling Sunday became a local name for the day. ' Tid, INIid, and ISIisera, Carling, Palm, Pase-egg day,' remains in the north of England as an enumera- tion of the Sundays of Lent, the first three terms probably taken from words in obsolete services for the respective days, and the fourth being the name of Midlent Sunday from the cakes by which it was distinguished. Herrick, in a canzonet addressed to Dianeme, says — ' I'll to thee a simnel bring, 'Gainst thou go a-mothering ; So that, when she blesses thee, Half that blessing thou' It give me.' He here obviously alludes to the sweet cake which the young person brought to the female parent as a gift ; but it would appear that the term ' simnel' was in reality applicable to cakes which were in v.se all through the time of Lent. We are favoured by an antiquarian friend with the following general account of Simnxl Calics. It is an old custom in Shropshire and Here- fordshire, and especially at Shrewsbury, to make during Lent and Easter, and also at Christmas, a sort of rich and expensive cakes, which are called Simnel Cakes. They are raised cakes, the crust of which is made of fine flour and water, with sufficient saffron to give it a deep yellow colour, and the interior is filled with the materials of a SI.MXEL CAKES. very rich plum-cake, with plenty of candied lemon peel, and other good things. They are made up very stiff, tied up in a cloth, and boiled for several hours, after which they are brushed over with egg, and then baked. When ready for sale the crust is as hard as if made of wood, a circum- stance which has given rise to various stories of the manner in which they have at times been ti'cated by persons to whom they were sent as presents, and who had never seen one before, one oi'deriug his simnel to bo boiled to soften it, and a lady taking hers for a footstool. They are made of different sizes, and, as may be supposed from the ingredients, are rather expensive, some large ones selling for as much as half-a-guinea, or even, we believe, a guinea, while smaller ones may be had for half-a-crown. Their form, which as well as the ornamentation is nearly uniform, will be best understood by the accompanying engraving, representing large and small cakes as now on sale in Shrewsburj-. The usage of these cakes is evidently one of great antiquity. It appears from one of the epigrams of the poet Herrick, that at the begin- ning of the seventeenth century it was the custom at Gloucester for young people to carry simnels as presents to their mothers on Midlent Sunday (or Mothering Sunday). It appears also from some other writers of this age, that these simnels, like the modern ones, were boiled as well as baked. The name is found in early English and also in very old French, and it appears in mediasval Latin under the form simanelliis or siminellus. It is considered to be derived from the Latin simila, fine flour, and is usually interpreted as meaning the finest quality of white bread made in the middle ages. It is evidently used, however, by the mediaeval writers in the sense of a cake, which they called in Latin of that time artocopus, which is constantly explained by simnel in the Latin-English vocabularies. In three of these, printed in Mr Wright's Volume of Vocabularies, all belonging to the fifteenth century, we have ' Hie artocopns, a7iglice si/mnelle,' 'Sic artocopus, a symnylle,' and ' Sic artocopus, anglice a sijmnella ; ' and in the latter place it is further explained by a contem- porary pen-and-ink drawing in the margin, repre- senting the simnel as seen from above and side- ways, of which we give below a fac-simile. It is quite evident that it is a rude representation of a cake exactly like those still made in Shropshire. The ornamental border, which is clearly identical with that of the modern cake, is, perhaps, what the authorities quoted by Du- cange v. simila, mean when they spoke of the cake as being foliata. In the Dictionarius of John de Garlande, compiled at Paris in the thirteenth cen- tury, the word simineus or sim- nels, is tised as the equivalent to the Latin •placentoi, which are described as cakes exposed in the windows of the hucksters to sell to the scholars of the University and others. We learn from Ducange that it was usual in early times to 336 SIMNEL CAKES. MAECH 6. TEADITION AND TEUTH. mark the simnels with a figure of Christ or of the Virgin Mary, which would seem to shew that they had a religious signification. We know that the Anglo-Saxon, and indeed the German race in general, were in the habit of eating consecrated cakes at their religious festi- A'als. Our hot cross buns at Easter are only the cakes which the pagan Saxons ate in honour of iheir goddess Eastre, and from which the Christian clergy, who were unable to prevent people from eating, sought to expel the paganism by marking them with the cross. It is curious that the use of these cakes should have been preserved so long in this locality, and still more curious are the tales whichhave arisen to explain the meaning of the name, which had been long forgotten. Some pretend that the father of Lambert Simnel, the well-known pretender in the reign of Henry YII., was a baker, and the first maker of simnels, and that in consequence of the celebrity he gained by the acts of his son, his cakes have retained his name. There is another story current in Shropshire, which is much more picturesque, and which we tell as nearly as possible in the words in which it was related to us. Long ago there lived an honest old couple, boasting the names of Simon and NeUy, but their surnames are not known. It was their custom at Easter to gather their childi'en about them, and thus meet together once a year under the old homestead. The fasting season of Lent was just ending, but they had still left some of the unleavened dough which had been from time to time converted into bread during the forty days. Nelly was a careful woman, and it grieved her to waste anything, so she suggested that they should use the remains of the Lenten dough for the basis of a cake to regale the assembled family. Simon readily agreed to the proposal, and further reminded his partner that there were still some remains of their Christmas plum pudding hoarded up in the cupboard, and that this might form the interior, and be an agreeable surprise to the young people Avhen they had made their way through the less tasty crust. So far, all things went on harmoniously ; but when the cake was made, a subject of violent discord arose, Sim insisting that it should be boiled, while Nell no less obstinately contended that it should be baked. The dispute ran from words to blows, for Nell, not choosing to let her province in the household be thus intei'fered with, jumped up, and threw the stool she was sitting on at Sim, who on his part seized a besom, and applied it with right good will to the head and shoulders of his spouse. She now seized the broom, and the battle became so warm, that it might have had a very serious result, had not Nell proposed as a compromise that the cake should be boiled first, and afterwards baked. This Sim acceded to, for lie had no wish for further acquaintance with the heavy end of the broom. Accordingly, the big pot was set on the fire, and the stool broken up and thrown on to boil it, whilst the besom and broom furnished fuel for the oven. Some eggs, which had been broken in the scuffle, were used to coat the outside of the pudding when boiled, which gave it the shining gloss it possesses as a cake. This new and remarkable production 22 in the art of confectionery became known by the name of the cake of Simon and Nelly, but soon only the first half of each name was alone pre- served and joined together, and it has ever since been known as the cake of Sim-Nel, or Simnel ! TRADITIOX AND TRUTH. The value of popular tradition as evidence in antic[uarian inquiries cannot be disputed, though in every instance it should be received with the greatest caution. A few instances of traditions, existing from a very remote period and verified in our own days, are worthy of notice. On the northern coast of the Firth of Forth, near to the town of Largo, in Fifeshire, tliere has existed from time immemorial an eminence known by the name of Norie's Law. And the popular tradition respecting this spot, has ever been that a great warrior, the leader of a mighty army, was buried there, clad in the silver armour he wore during his lifetime. Norie's Law is evidently artificial, and there can be no wonder that the neighbouring country people should suppose that a great chief had been buried underneath it, for the interment of warrior chieftains under arti- ficial mounds, near the sea, is as ancient as Homer. Hector, speaking of one whom he intended to slay in single combat, says : ' The long-haired Greeks To him, upon the shores of Hellespont, A mound shall heap ; that those in after times, Who sail along the darksome sea, shall saj% This is the monmnent of one long since Borne to his grave, by mighty Hector slain. ' Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors buried their warrior leaders in the same manner. The foregoing c^uotation seems almost parodied in the dying words of the Saxon Beowulf: ' Command the famous in war To make a moimd, Bright after the fimeral fire. Upon the nose of the promontorj' ; AVhich shall, for a memorial To my people, rise high aloft, On Heouesness ; That the sea-sailors May afterwards call it Beowulf's Barrow, When the Brentings, Over the darkness of the flood, Shall sail afar.' So it was only natural for the rustic population to say that a chief was buried under Norie's Law. Agricultural progress has, in late years, thrown over hundreds of burial barrows, ex- posing mortuary remains, and there are few labourers in England or Scotland who would not say, on being pointed out a barrow, that a great man, at some distant period, had been interred beneath it. But silver armour, with one single exception, has never been found in barrows ; and as Norie's Law is actually the barrow in which silver accoutrements were found, the tradition of the people was fully verified. For only by tra- dition, and that from a very distant period, could they have known that the person interred at Norie's Law was buried with silver armour. It appears that, about the year 1819, a man in 337 TRADITION AND TBUTH. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CANTEEBUEY PILGEIM-SIGNS. humble life and very moderate circumstances, re- siding near Lari;;o, was— greatly to the surprise of his neighbours— observed to have suddenly become passing rich for one of his position and opportunities. A silversmith, in the adjacent town of Cupar, had about the same time been offered a considerable quantity of curious antique silver for sale ; part of -wliich he purchased, but a larger part was taken to Edinburgh, and dis- posed of there. Contemporary with tlieso events, a modern excavation was discovered in Noric's Law, so it did not require a witch to surmise that a case of treasure-trove had recently occurred. The late General Durham, then owner of the estate, was thus led to make inquiries, and soon discovered that the individual alluded to, induced by the ancient tradition, had made an excavation in the Law, and found a considerable quantity of silver, which he had disposed of as previously noticed. But influenced, as some say, by a feeling of a conscientious, others of a supei'sti- tious character, he did not take all the silver he discovered, but left a large quantity in the Law. Besides, as this ingenious individual conducted his explorations at night, it was supposed that he might have overlooked part of the original deposit. Acting in accordance with this intelli- gence. General Durham caused the Law to be carefully explored, and found in it several lozenge- shaped plates of sUver, that undoubtedly had been the scales of a coat of mail, besides a silver shield and sword ornaments, and the mounting of a helmet in the same metal. Many of these are still preserved at Largo House, affording indisputable evidence of the very long persever- ance and consistency Avhich may characterise popular tradition. Our next illustration is from Ireland, and it happened about the commencement of the last centurj^. At Ballyshannon, says Bishop Gibson, in his edition of Camden's Britannia, were two pieces of gold discovered by a method very re- markable. The Bishop of Derry being at dinner, there came in an old Irish harper, and sang an ancient song to his harp. His lordship, not understanding Irish, v/as at a loss to know the meaning of the song ; but upon inquiry, he found the substance of it to be this, that in such a place, naming the very spot, a man of gigantic stature lay buried ; and that over his breast and back were plates of j)ure gold, and on his fingers rings of gold so large that an ordinary man might creep through them. The place was so exactly described, that two persons there present were tempted to go in quest of the golden prize which the harper's song had pointed out to them. After they had dug for some time, they found two thin pieces of gold, circular, and more than two inches in diameter. This discovery en- couraged them to seek next morning for the remainder, but they could find nothing more. In aU probability they were not the first inquisitive persons whom the harper's song had sent to the same spot. Since the ancient poetry of Ireland has become an object of learned research, the very song of the harper has been identified and printed, though it was simply traditional when sung before the Bishop, It is called Moira Borh ; and 338 the verse, which more particularly suggested the remarkable discovery, has been translated thus : — ' In earth, beside the loud cascade, The son of Sora's king we laid ; And on each finger placed a ring Of gold, by mandate of our King. ' The ' loud cascade ' was the well-known water- fall at Ballyshannon, now known as ' the Salmon- leap.' Another instance of a similar description occurred in Wales. Near Mold, in Flintshire, there had existed from time immemorial a burial mound or barrow, named by the Welsh peasantry Bryn-yy-ellylon, the Hill of the Faii-ies. In 1827, a woman returning late from market, one night, was extremely frightened by seeing, as she solemnly averred, a spectral skeleton standing on this mound and clothed in a vestment of gold, which shone like the noon-day sun. Six years after- wards, the barrow, being cleared away for agri- cultural purposes, was found to contain urns and burnt bones, the usual contents of such places. But besides these, there was a most unusual object found, namely, a complete skeleton, round the breast of which was a corslet of pure gold, embossed with ornaments representing nad heads and lines. This unique relic of antiquity is now in the British Museum ; and, if we are to confine ourselves to a natural explanation, it seems but reasonable to surmise that the vision was the consequence of a lingering remembrance of a tradition, which the woman had heard in early life, of golden ornaments buried in the goblin hill. CANTERBURY PILGRIM-SIGNS. The Thames, like the Tiber, has been the con- servator of many minor objects of antiquity, very useful in aiding us to obtain a more correct knowledge of the habits and manners of those who in former times dwelt upon its banks. Whenever digging or dredging disturbs the bed of the river, some antique is sure to be exhumed. The largest amount of discovery took place when old London-bridge was removed, but other causes have led to the finding of much that is curious. Among these varied objects not the least inte- resting are a variety of small figu.res cast in lead, which prove to be the ' signs ' worn by the pil- grims returned from visiting the shrine of St Thomas-a-Becket at Canterbury, and who wore them in their hats, or as brooches upon some portion of their dress, in token of their success- ful journey. The custom of wearing these brooches is noted by Giraldua Cambrensis as early as the twelfth century. That ecclesiastic returned from a continental journey by way of Canterbury, and stayed some days to visit Becket's shrine ; on his arrival in London he had an interview with the Bishop of Winchester, and he tells us that the Bishop, seeing him and his companions with signs of St Thomas hanging about their necks, remarked that he perceived they had just come from Canterbury. Erasmus, in his coUoquy on pUgrimages, notes that pilgrims are ' covered on every side with images of tin and lead.' The CANTEKB0EY PILGEIM-SIGNS. MAECH 7. BISHOP WILSON. cruel and superstitious Louis XI. of France, customarily wore such signs stuck around his hat. The anonymous author of the Supplement to Chaucer's Canterhurij Tales, described that famed party of pdgrims upon their arrival at the archiej)iscopal city, and says : ' Then, as manner and custom is, si{)ns there they bought. For men or contr6 should know whom they had sought. Each man set his silver in such thing as he liked. And in the meanwhile, the matter had y-piked His bosom full of Canterbmy brooches. ' The rest of the party, we are afterwards told, ' Set their signs upon their heads, and some upon their cap.' They were a considerable source of revenue to the clergy who oificiated at celebrated shrines, and have been found abroad in great numbers, bearing the figures of saints to whom it was customary to do honour by pilgrimages in the middle ages. The shells worn by the older pilgrims to Com^ostella, may have originated the practice ; which still sur- vives in. Catholic countries, under the form of the meda- lets, sold on saints' days, which have touched sacred relics, or been consecrated by ecclesias- tics. The first specimen of these Canterbury brooches we en- grave, and which appears to be a work of the fourteenth century, has a full length of St Thomas in pontificals in the act of giving the pastoral bene- diction. The pin which was used to attach it to the person, will be perceived behind the figure ; it seems best fitted to be secured to, and stand upright upon, the hat or cap of the pil- grim. Our second specimen takes the ordinary form of a brooch, and has in the centre the head only of Becket ; upon the rim are in- scribed the words Ca- jjut Thome. The skull of the saint was made a separate exhibition in the reign of Edward III., and so continued until the days of Henry VIII. The monks of Canterbury thus made the most of their saint, by exhibiting his shrine at one part of the cathedral, his skull at another, and the point of the sword of Eichard Brito, which fractured it, in a third place. The wealth of the church naturally became great, and no richer prize fell into the rapacious hands of the Royal suppressor of monasteries than Canter- bury. These signs were worn, not only as indications of pilgrimage performed, but as charms or pro- tections against accidents in the journey ; and it would appear that the horses of tlie pilgrims were supplied with small bells inscribed with the words Campana Thome, and of wliich also we give a specimen. AU these curious little articles have been found at various times in the Thames, and are valuable illustrative records, not only of the most popular of the English pilgrimages, but of the immortal poem of Geofirey Chaucer, who has done so much toward giving it an undying celebrity. MARCH r. Saints Perpetua and Felicitas, martyrs at Carthage, 203. St Paul the Simple, anchoret, about 330. St Thomas of Aquino, Doctor of the Church and Confessor, 1274. Born. — Sir John Fortescue Aland, 1670 ; Antonio Sanchez, 1699. Died. — Antoninus Pius, Roman Emperor, 162, Lorium ; William Longsword, first Earl of Salisbury, 1226 ; Pope Innocent XIII., 1724 ; Bishop Thomas Wilson, 1755, Isle of Man ; Blanchard, aeronaut, 1809; Admiral Lord Collingwood, 1810. BISHOP WILSON. The benign and saintly Thomas Wilson was born at Burton, in Cheshire, on the 20th of December 1663. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, whither most of the young gentlemen of Lancashire and Cheshire were at that time sent. In 1692, the Earl of Derby chose him for his domestic chaplain, and tutor to his son. Lord Strange, and in 1697 appointed him to the bishopric of Sodor and Man, tlien iu the gift of the Dei-by family. The episcopal revenue was only £300 a-year, and he found his palace in ruins, the house having been uninha- bited for eight years. The people of the island were ignorant and very poor ; but the bishop at once took measures to improve their condition. He taught them to work, to plant, dig, and drain, and make roads; he opened schools, chapels, and libraries ; he had studied medicine, and was able to cure the sick. Nearly all that Oberlin did in the Ban-de-la-Eoche, Wilson anticipated in the Isle of Man. His whole income, after providing for the modest needs of his household, ho ex- pended in alms and improvements. It was said that ' he kept beggars from every door in Man but his own. He published several devotional works and sermons, which are to this day widely read and admired. Queen Anne offered him an English bishopric, which he declined ; George I, 339 LORD COLLINGWOOD. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MOLLY HOGG. repeated the otler, Avith (lie same result. Queen Caroline was very auxious to keep Jiim in Loudon, and one day, -wlien she had several prelates with her, she said, pointing to Wilson, ' See, here, my lords, is a bishoj) who does not come for trans- lation.' ' No, indeed, and please your Majesty,' said ^Yilson, ' I will not leave my wife in my old age because she is poor.' Cardinal Fleury Avauted much to see him, and invited him to France, saving he believed that they were the two oldest and poorest bishops in Europe, and he obtained an order from the government that no Frencli privateer should ravage the Isle of Man. AVilsou's goodness, lilce Oberlin's, overcame all differences of creed. Catholics and Dissenters came to hear him preach, and Quakers visited at his palace. He died at the age of ninety-three, and in the fifty-eighth year of his tenure of the office of bishop. LORD COLLINGWOOD. The personal history of this great naval com- mander furnishes aremai'kable example of every- thing sacrificed to duty. He might be said to have lived and died at sea. The case becomes the more remarkable, when we know that Colling- wood, beneath the panoply of the hero, cherished the finest domestic and social feelings. Born at IN"ewcastle-on Tyne in 1750, he was sent to sea as a midshipman at the age of eleven. After twenty-five years' uninterrupted service, he returned to jN"orthumberland, making, as he saj's, acquaintance with his own family, to whom he had hitherto been, as it were, a stranger. In 1793, the war with the French Republic called him away from a young wife and two infant daughters, whom he most tenderly loved, though he was never permitted to have much of their society. He bore a conspicuous part in Lord Howe's victory, June 1, 1794, and in Jervis's victory off Cape St Vincent in 1797. In 1799, he was raised to the rank of Bear- Admiral. The peace of Amiens, for which he had long prayed, restored him to his Avife and children for a few months in 1802, but the renewed war called him to sea in the spring of 1803, and he never more returned to his happy home. This constant service made him frequently lament that he was hardly known to his own children ; and the anxieties and wear and tear incidental to it, shortened his valuable life. Passing over many less brilliant, but still very important services, Collingwood was second in command in the battle of Trafalgar. His ship, the Royal Sovereign, was the first to attack and break the enemy's line ; and upon Nelson's death, Colling- wood finished the victory, and continued in command of the fleet.- He was now raised to the peerage. After a long and wearying blockade, during which, for nearly three years, lie hardly ever set foot on shore, he sailed up the Medi- terranean, where his position involved him in difficult political transactions ; at length, com- pletely worn out in body, Init with a spirit intent on his duties to the last, Collingwood died at sea, on board the Ville de Paris, near Port Mahon, on the 7th of March 1810. ^ Nelson had a greater affection for Lord Collingwood than for any other officer ia the 340 service. In command he was firm, but mild, most considerate of the comfort and health of his men : the sailors called him father. He was a scientific seaman and naval tactician ; of strong enlightened mind, considering tlie circumstances of his life; the ofiicial letters and dispatches of this sailor, who had been at sea from his child- hood, are admirable, even in point of style ; and his letters to his wife on the education of his daughters are full of good sense and feeling. The people of Newcastle, reasonably proud of so excellent a fellow- townsman as Lord Collingwood, have erected, by public subscription, a portrait statue of him in their town, and one of its leading streets bears his honoured name. MOLLY ISrOGG. On the 7th March 17G6, died Mrs Mary Mogg, of the Bose Tavern, Wokingham, who had been, forty years before, the subject of a droll ballad by Gray, in association (as is believed) with Pope and Swift. This ballad almost immediately found its way into print, through the medium of Mist's Journal of August 27, 1726, prefaced with a notice stating that ' it was writ by two or three men of wit (who have diverted the public both in prose and verse), upon the occasion of their lying at a certain inn at Wokingham where the daughter of that house was remarkably pretty, and whose name is Molly Mogg.' MOLLY MOGG. The schoolboy delights in a play-day, The schoolmaster's joy is to flog ; The milkmaid's delight is in May-day, But mine is in sweet Molly JNIogg. Will-a-wisp leads the traveller a-gadding, Through tUtch and through quagmire and bog ; No light can e'er set me a-padding, But the eyes of my sweet Molly Mogg. For guineas in other men's breeches Your gamesters will palm and will cog ; But I envy them none of their riches, 8o I jjalm my sweet Molly Mogg. The hart that 's half-wounded is ranging. It here and there leaps like a frog ; But my heart can never be changing, It's so fixed on my sweet Molly Mogg. I know that by wits 'tis recited. That women at best are a clog ; But I'm not so easily frighted From loving my sweet Molly Mogg. A letter when I am inditing, Comes Cupid and gives me a jog ; And I fill all my paper with writing, Of nothing but sweet Molly Mogg. I feel I'm in love to distraction. My senses are lost in a fog ; And in nothing can find satisfaction, But in thoughts of my sweet MoUy Mogg. If I would not give up the three Graces, I wish I were hanged like a dog, And at com-t all the drawing-room faces, For a glance at my sweet Molly Mogg. For those faces want nature and spirit. And seem as cut out of a log ; Juno, Venus, and Pallas's merit Unite in my sweet MoUy Mogg. UNDER THE SNO"W. MAECH 7. TJNDEK THE SNOW. Were Virgil alive with his Phillis, And writing another Eclogue, Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis He'd give for my sweet jNIolly Mogg. When she smiles on each guest hke her liquor, Then jealousy sets me a-gog : To be sure, she's a bit for the Vicai', And so I shaU lose Molly Mogg. It appears that the ballad — perhaps to the sur- prise of its authors — attained instant popularity. Molty and the Eose at "Wokingham became matter of public interest, and literary historians have not since disdained to inquire into the origin of the verses. We learn that Swift was at this time on a visit to Pope at Twickenham, while preparing for the publication of his Travels of Lemuel Gulliver ; that Gay joined his two brother bards, and that the tuneful trio were occasionally at the Eose in the course of their excursions that summer. The landlord, John Mogg, had two fair daughters, Molly and Sally, of whom Sally was in reality the cruel beauty referred to in the ballad ; but ' the wits were too far gone to distinguish, and so the honour, if honour it be, has clung to Molly, who, after all, died a spinster at the age of sixty-six.' The inn had in these latter days its Poises Room, and its chair called Popes Chair, and there was an inscription on a pane of glass said to have been written by Pope. The hoiise, however, is now transformed into a mercer's shop.* rXDER THK SNOW. It is a well -ascertained fact that snow affords a comparativel}'' warm garment in intensely cold weather. This is difficult for non-scientific persons to understand ; but it is based on the circumstance that snow, on account of its loose flocculent nature, conducts heat slowly. Accord- ingly, under this covering, exactly as under a thick woollen garment, the natural heat of the body is not dissipated rapidly, but retained. Instances are abundant to shew that snow really protects substances from cold of great intensity. Farmers and gardeners well know this ; and, knowing it, they duly value a good honest fall of snow on their fields and gardens in winter. There are not the same tests to apply in reference to the human body ; never- theless, the fact is equally undeniable. The news- papers every winter record examples. Thus the Yorkshire papers contained an account, in 1858, of a snow storm at or near Market Weighton, in which a woman had a remarkable experience of the value of a snow garment. On the 7th of March she was overtaken by t]ie storm on the neighbouring moors, and was gradually snowed up, being unable to move either forward or back- ward. Thus she remained forty-three hours. Cold as she of course was, the snow nevertheless prevented the cold from assuming a benumbing tendency ; and she was able to the last to keep a breathing place about her head. On the second day after, a man crossing the moor saw a woman's bonnet on the snow ; he soon found that there was a living woman beneath the bonnet ; and a course of judicious treatment restored her to health. * See Notts and Qtierks, 2nd ser. viii. 84, 129, 172. The remarkable case of Elizabeth AYoodcock is still more striking. In the winter of 1799 she was returning on horseback from Cambridge to her home in a neighbouring village ; and having dismounted for a few minutes, the horse ran away from her. At seven o'clock on a winter evening she sat down under a thicket, cold, tired, and disheartened. Snow came on ; she was too weak to rise, and the consequence was that by the morning the snow had heaped up around her to a height of two feet above her head as she sat. She had strength enough to thrust a twig, with her handkerchief at the top of it, through the snow, to serve as a signal, and to admit a little daylight. Torpor supervened ; and she knew little more of what passed around her. jSTight succeeded day, and day again broke, but there she remained, motionless and foodless. Not senseless, however, for she could hear church bells and village sounds — nay, even the voice and conversation of some of her neighbours. Four whole daj's she thus remained — one single pinch of snufi" being her only substitute for food during the time, and this, she found to her sorrow, had lost its pungency. On the fifth day a thaw com- menced, and then she sufi'ered greatly, but still without being able to extricate herself. It was not until the eighth day that the handkerchief was espied by a villager, who, with many others, had long been seeking for her. Stooping down he said, ' Are you there, Elizabeth Woodcock ? ' She had strength enough to reply faintly, ' Dear John Stittle, I know your voice. For God's sake, help me out ! ' She died half a year after- wards, through mismanagement of frost-bitten toes ; but it was fully admitted that no one, unless cased in snow, could have lived out those eight days and nights in such a place without food. Similar in principle was the incident narrated by Hearne, the antiquar3\ in the last century, in a letter addressed to Mr Charry, of Shottesbrooke. In the severe winter of 1708-9, a poor woman, near Yeovil, in Somersetshire, having been to Chard, to seU some of her home-spun yarn, was returning home, when, falling ill by the wayside, she requested to be allowedL to sit by the tire in a cottage. This being unfeelingly refused, she lay down under a hedge in the open air, being too weak to proceed farther. Snow soon came on. A neighbour passed by, and helped for a few minutes to guide her steps ; but her strength soon failed her, and he, in like manner, left her to her fate. Once more laid prostrate, she became gradually covered with the snow. Day after day passed," for a whole week, during which time her friends made search and inquiry for her in every direction. The only person who could give information was the man who had aban- doned her, after her failure in the attempt to walk ; and he remained silent, lest his conduct should bring reproaches on him. There then occurred one of those strange sleep-revelations which, explain them how we may, ai-e continually reported as playing a part in the economy of human life. A poor woman dreamed that the missing person lay under a hedge in a particular spot denoted. The neighbours, roused by the narration she gave, sallied forth with sticks, 341 SIK WILLIAM CHAMBEKS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOSEPH JEKTLL, ATliicli tliey thrust tliroui,'li tlio sno\v in various places. One of them tliouglit he heard a groan ; he thrust again in a particular spot, when a t'eeble Toice cried out, ' Oh, for God's saltc, don't kill me ! ' The poor, imprisoned wayfarer was taken out, to the astonishment of all. ' She was found,' says the writer of the letter, ' to have taken great ])art of her upper garment for sustenance ; but how she could have digested a textile fabric of wool or flax is not easy to understand. She surprised her neighbours by the assertion that she had lain very warm, and had slept most part of the time. One of her legs lay just under a bush, and was not quite covered with snow ; this became in consequence frost-bitten, but not too far for recovery. Her spirits revived, and she was able shortly to resume her ordinary duties.' In these two last-named instances the person was a full week under the snow blanket ; and the covering evidently prevented the natural warmth of the body from being abstracted to so great a degree as to be fatal. MARCH 8. Saints Apollonius, Philemon, and others, martjTS of Egypt, about 311. St Senan, Bishop in Ireland, about 544. St Psalmoid, or Saumay, of Ireland, about 589. St Felix, Bishop of Dunwich, 646. St Julian, Arch- bishop of Toledo, 690. St Rosa, virgin of Viterbo, buried 1252. St Duthak, Bishop of Koss, 1253. St John of God, founder of the Order of Charity, 1550. Born. — St John of God, 1495; Dr John Campbell, historical writer, 1708, Edinburgh; Dr John Fothergill (Quaker), 1712, Cai~r-end; William Roscoe, miscellaneous writer, 1753, Liverpool; Austin H. Layard, M.P., ex- plorer of the antiquities of Nineveh, 1817, Paris. Died. — King William III., of England, 1702, Kensing- ton; Bishop John Hough, 1743; Thomas Black well, LL.D., classical scholar, 1757, Edinburgh; Sir William Chambers, R.A., architect, 1796 ; Francis Duke of Bridgewater (canal navigation), 1803, St James's; W. Sawrey Gilpin, landscape painter, 1807, Brampton; Joseph Jekyll, F.R.S., noted wit, 1837, London ; Karl Johann (Bernadotte), King of Sweden, 1844. SIR WILLIAM CHAMBERS. In our day, which is distinguished by an im- precedentedly high culture of architecture, the attainments of Sir William Chambers, the great English architect of the eighteenth century, are apt to be set down as mediocre. There must, nevertheless, have been some considerable gifts in possession of the man who could design such a noble pile as Somerset House. Chambers was born at Stockholm (172G), the son of a Scotchman who had gone there to pro- secute some claims of debt for wai-like stores which he had furnished to Charles XII. Edu- cated in England, he started in life as super- cargo in a mercantile ship trading with China. In that country he busied himself in taking sketches of the peculiar buildings of the country, and thus laid the foundations of a taste which clung to him in his subsequent professional career. He was afterwards able to study archi- tecture both in Italy and France. His command 342 of the pencil seems to have been the main means of his advancement. It recommended him to the Earl of 13ute as a teacher of architectural drawing to the young Prince George, afterwards George III. Having thus secured an opening into important fields of professional exertion, his energetic character and assiduity did all the rest ; and Chambers reigned for thirty years the acknow- ledged architectural chief of his day, received a Swedish order of knighthood, and retired from business with a handsome fortune. It was in 1775, that Sir William, as Comp- troller of his Majesty's works, proceeded to the great work of his life, the reconstruction of Somerset House. He is admitted to have shewn in the internal arrangements of this great qua- drangle all desirable taste and skill, while the exterior is the perfection of masonry. Many of the ornamental details were copied from models executed at Rome, under Chambers's direction : the sculptors employed were Carlini, Wilton, Geracci, NoUekens, and Bacon. Telford, the engi- neer, when he came to London, in 1782, was em- ployed on the quadrangle. Chambers received £2,000 a-year during the erection of Somerset House ; it cost more than half a million of money ; but it is one of the noblest structures in the metropolis, and, in some respects, superior to any ; the street-front and vestibule have always been much admired. After Somerset House, Chambers's most successful designs are the Marquis of Abercorn's mansion at Duddingstone near Edinburgh ; and Milton Abbey, in Dorset- shire, which he built in the Gothic style for Lord Dorchester. Sir William Chambers also designed the royal state coach, which has now been used by our sovei'eigns for a century. Walpole describes it as a beautiful object, though crowded with im- proprieties ; its palm-trees denote the architect's predilection for oriental objects. The bill was £8,000, but being taxed, was reduced nearly £500. JOSEPH JEKYLL. The wit of Mr Jekyll has given him a tradi- tionary fame superior to, and which will proba- bly be more lasting than, that which some worthy men derive from solid works. He was, however, the author of several books, one of them of an antiquarian nature (on the monuments in the Temple Church), and he had attained, some time before his death, the senior position both among the King's Counsel and the Benchers. He reached the age of eighty-five. His bon. mots were for a long course of years the delight of the bar of London, and of the brilliant society to which his powers of conversation gave him access. An obituary notice states that they would fill volumes. It is nevertheless probable that now, at the distance of a quarter of a century, it would be difficult to gather as many pleasantries of Mr Jekyll as would fill a page of the present work. A general remark with regard to hon mots may here be properly appended — namely, that they are extremely apt to be reproduced. It is not necessarily that jokers are plagiarists, but that the relations of things out of which bon mots JOSEPH JEKYLL. MAECH 8. THE BOWYER BIBLE. spring are of limited number and liable to recur. It is therefore not without good cause that the determined joker utters his well-known maledic- tion — ' Perish those who have said all our good things before us ! ' There is an old French collection of hon mots, called the Nain Jaune (Yellow Dwarf), in which some of the most noted of English jokes will be found anticipated. For example, the recom- mendation of Dr Johnson to the lady author who sent him a manuscript poem, and told him she had other irons in the fire — ' I advise you to put the poem with the irons.' Of this the proto- type appears as follows : ' M. N , que la ciel a donne du malheureux talent d'ecriro, sans penser, tous les moia, uu volume, consultait le tres franc et le tres malin P., sur un ouvrage nouveau dont il menace le public — " Parlez-moi franchement," lui disait-il, " car si cela ne vaut rien, fai d' autres fers au feu." — " Dans ce cas," lui respondit P., "je vous conseille de mettre voire manuscrit ou vous avez mis vosfers.'" As another example, though rather in the class of comic occurrences than criticisms — Mrs Piozzi, in her Autohiograpliy, relates that her mother Mrs Salusbury used to narrate the following cir- cumstance in connection with the name of Lord Harry Pawlett. A lady, to whom that nobleman had paid attentions, and whom Mrs Salusbury knew, requested of his lordship that he would procure for her a couple of monkeys of a particular kind, from the East Indies. ' Lord Harry, happy to oblige her, wrote immediately, depending on the best services of a distant friend, whom he had essentially served. Writing a bad hand, however, and spelling what he wrote with more haste than correctness, he charged the gentleman to send him over two monkeys ; but the word being written too, and aU the characters of one height (100), what was Lord Harry Pawlett's dismay, when a letter came to hand with the news, that he would receive fifty monkeys by such a ship, and fifty more by the next conveyance, making up the hundred, according to his lord- ship's commands ! ' We rather think there is a counterpart to this story, in w^hich a Virginia planter is repre- sented as writing to his factor in England to send him over tivo virtuous young women ; in conse- quence of which, through a misapprehension of the characters forming the word two, the factor sent him fifty examples of the sex, with a promise of fifty more as soon as the number of volunteers for Virginia could be made up. Whether this be the case or not, it appears that the joke about the monkeys is a hundred years older than the time of Mrs Salusbury and Lord Harry Pawlett. In a letter dated the 19th of January 1635-6, Sir Edward Verney, Knight Marshal to Charles I., wrote to his son, llalph Verney, from London, as follows : * ' To requite your news of your fish, Iwill teU you as good a tale from hence, and as true. A merchant of London that writ to a factor of his beyond sea, desired him by the next ship to send him 2 or 3 apes, lie forgot the r, and then it was 203 apes. His fac- tor sent him four score, and says he shall have * Communicated by John Bruce to Notes and Queries, April 26, 18G2. the rest by the next ship, conceiving the mer- chant had sent for two hundred and three apes. If yourself or friends will buy any to breed on, you could never have had such choice as now.' THE BOWYER BIBLE. About ninety years ago, a poor youth was walking through Newgate-street listlessly look- ing into the shops, and lamenting his own poverty. His fancy was taken by a portrait in one of the windows ; and something within him said that he too, perchance, might be able to paint portraits, and to earn a living thereby. He went home, procured paints, brushes, and a bit of broken looking-glass, and painted a small portrait of himself. It was a success, in his eyes, and apparently in the eyes of others ; for he gradually got employment as a miniature painter, and numbered among his sitters such great per- sonages as George III. and Queen Charlotte. One Sunday, when the poor King was too far gone in his mental malady to sit to portrait- painters, the artist drew 07i his thumb nail a portrait of the King, which he afterwards trans- ferred on the same scale to ivory ; the Prince Hegent liked the miniature so well, that be at once purchased it at the price named by the artist — a hundred guineas. The person here treated of was William Bow- yer, whose name is now little known or thought of as that of a regular artist. Perhaps he found that he was really deficient in the higher powers of art, and that it would be wise for him to turn his attention to other fields of labour. Be this as it may, he became a printer, and gradually realized a competency in that trade. The Sta- tioners' Company, to this day, have the manage- ment of a small endowment which he established for the benefit of poor working printers. The most remarkable work printed by him was an Edition of Humes History of England, so costly that only a few copies could be disposed of. William Bowyer is now chiefly remembered in connexion with one particular copy of the Bible. Macklin ventured on the most costly edition of the Bible ever issued from the press ; and Bowyer, possessing one copy of this work, devoted the leisure of nearly thirty years to illustrating it. He procured from every part of Europe engravings, etchings, and origiAal drawings, relating to bib- lical subjects ; and these, to the number of seven thousand, he interleaved with his Bible. From Michael Angelo and Eafi'aelle to Reynolds and West, every artist whose Scripture subjects had been engraved was brought into requisition. Bowyer having only his own taste to please, gave a very wide scope to the meaning of the words ' scriptural' and ' biblical ;' insomuch that he in- cluded plates of natural history that might possi- bly illustrate the cosmogony of the Bible. The collection included the best Scripture atlases. Its most original features were two hundred drawings by Lautherbourg. Thus he went on, step by step, until his Bible expanded to forty-five folio volumes, including examples from nearly 600 difierent engravers. This extraordmary work seems to have occu- pied Mr Bowyer from about 1798 to 1824. The work, with costly binding, and an oak cabinet to oIio LIFE-SAVING DOGS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LIFE-SAVING DOGS. contain all the forty-livo volumes, is said to Lave cost hiu\ four iJiousand qiiineas. He insured it in the Albion Five Olliee for £3,000. After his death, a lottery was got up for tlie benefit of his dauixhter, Mrs Parlces, -with this Bible as the sole prize. One Mr Saxon, a Somersetshire farmer, -won the prize. It is jnst possible that, as in the famous case of the family picture of the '\'iear of "\Vakelield, the dimensions were not found compatible with domestic convenience ; for the work has changed hands several times. At Messrs Puttick and Simpson's a few years ago. it became the property of ]\Ir Moreland of Manchester : after whicli it passed into the hands of Mr Albinson of Bolton. In the early part of March 1856, there was a seven days' sale of the extensive library of the last-named gentle- man ; and among the lots the chief was the cele- brated Bowyer Bible. The biddings began at £4,00, and the lot was ultimately knocked down at £550 to Mr Eobert Ileywood of Bolton. Ponderous as such a work must be for any private library, it would nevertheless be a pity that so unique a collection should ever be broken up and scattered. LIFE-SAVING DOGS. We owe to two principles which have been ably illustrated by modern naturalists — namely, the educability of animals, and the transmission of the acquired gifts to new genei-ations — that the young pointer, without ever having seen a field of game, is no sooner introduced to one than it points, as its father and mother did before it. To this also we owe the even more interesting speciality of certain varieties of the canine species, that they unpromptedly engage in the business of saving human life in situations of danger. We have all heard of the dogs of St Bernard, which for ages have been devoted to the special duty of rescuing travellers who may be lost in Alpine snows. Early in the present century, one of these noble creatures was deco- rated with a medal, in reward for having saved the lives of no less than twenty-two snow-bound travellers. Sad to say, it lost its own life in the winter of 1816. A Piedraontese courier, after resting for a while at the Hospice during a terrible snow storm, was earnestly desirous of proceeding that same night to the village of St Pierre, on the Italian side of the mountain. The monks, after endeavouring in vain to dissuade him, lent him the aid of two guides and two dogs, including the onebearing the medal. The courier's family knowing of his intended return, and anxious for his safety, ascended part of the way to meet him; and thus it happened that the whole were nearly together when an avalanche broke away from the mountain pinnacle, and buried human beings and dogs together. So keen is the sense of smell possessed by these dogs, that though a perishing man lie beneath a snow drift to a depth of several feet, they will detect the spot, scrape away the snow with their feet, make a howling that can be heard at a great distance, and exert themselves to the utmost in his behalf. An anecdote is told of one of the dogs that found a child whose mother had just been destroyed by an avalanche : the child, alive 344 and unhnri, was in some way induced to get upon the dog's back, and was safely conveyed to the Hospice. Of tlie aptitude of the Newfoundland dog to take to the water, and courageously help drown- ing or endangered persons, tlie instances are abundant. AVe will cite only two. A ]\Ir William Phillips, while bathing at Portsmoutli, ventured out too far, and was in imminent peril. Two boiitmeu, instead of starting off to assist him, selfishly strove to make a hard bargain with some of the bystanders, who urged them. While the parley was going on, a JNewfoundland dog, seeing the danger, plunged into tlie water, aiid saved the struggling swimmer. It is pleasantly told that Mr Phillips, in gratitude for his deliver- ance, bought the dog from his owner, a butcher, and thereafter gave an annual festival, at wliich the dog was assigned the place of honour, with a good ration of beefsteaks. He had a picture of the dog painted by Morland, and engraved by Bartolozzi ; and on all his table-linen he had this picture worked in the tissue, with the motto, ' Virum extuli mari.' The other anecdote is of more recent date. On the 8th of March 1831, two little boys were playing on the banks of the Grosvenor Canal at Pimlico (lately filled up to make the Victoria and Ciystal Palace Eailway). The younger of the two, in his gambols, fell into the water ; the elder, about nine years of age, plunged in with the hope of saving him. Both sank, and their lives were greatly imperilled. It happened that at that critical moment Mr Eyan, an actor at Astley's Amphitheatre, was passing, with a fine Newfoundland dog, which, under the name of Hero, was wont to take part in some of the per- formances. A bystander threw a pebble into the water, to shew the spot where the two poor boys were immersed. The dog plunged in and brought up the elder one ; the clothes were rent, and the boy sank again ; but the dog, making a second attempt, succeeded in bringing him to the shore, and afterwards his brother. Mr Horncroft, the father of the children, gave a dinner that evening, at which Hero was a specially invited guest ; and his gambols with the two boys whom he had saved, shewed how he appreciated the joyousness of the meeting. Some years ago, it was resolved at Paris to take advantage of the gifts of the Newfoundland dog, for a general purpose resembling the prac- tice at St Bernard. Ten select dogs were brought to the French capital, and appointed as savers of human life in the river Seme. They were first exercised in drawing stufled figures of men and children from the water, and In time they acquired such skill and facility in their business, as to prove eminently serviceable. Bequests of Worsted Beds. — Bequests of beds with worsted hangings frequently occur in the middle ages. The Countess of Northampton, in 1356, be- queathed to her (laughter the Countess of Arundel ' a bed of red worsted embroidered. ' Lady Despencer, in 1409, gave her daughter Philippa ' a bed of red worsted, with all the fvu-niture appertaining thereto.' Lady Elizabeth Andrews, in 1474, gave to William Wyndsore ' a red bed of worsted, with all the hang- ings.' — Testamenta Vetusia. WILLIAM COBBETT. MAECH 9. ■WILLIAM COBBETT. MARCH 9. St Pacian, Bishop of Barcelona, 4th century. St Gregory, of Nyssa, bishop, 400. St Frances, widow, of liome, foundress of the Collatiues, 1440. St Catherine, of Bologna, virgin, 1463. Born. — Lewis Gonzaga {St Aloijsius), 1568; Dr Joseph Fi-anz Gall, founder of phrenology, 1757, Tiefenbruim, Suahia; William Cobbett, political writer, 17C2, Forft- ham. J»ie(7.— Sultan Bajazet T., Antloch ; David Rlzzio, 1566, murdered, Ilohjrood; William Warner, poet, 1609, Aimi-ell ; Francis Beaumont, dramatist, 1616 ; Cardinal Jules Mazarine, 1661, Vincennes ; Bishop Joseph VVilcocks, 1756 ; John Galas, broken on the wheel, 1762, Toulouse; William Guthrie, historical and geographical writer, 1771, London; Dr Samuel Jebb, 1772, Derhij- shire; Dr Edward Daniel Clarke, traveller, 1822, Pall Mall; Anna Letitia Barbauld, writer of books for the young, 1825, Sloke Newington ; Miss Linwood, artist in needlework, 1845 ; Professor Oersted, Danisii natural philosopher, 1851. WILLIAM COBBETT. "Were -^ve asked to name the Englisliman who most nearly answers to the typical John Bull which Leech delights to draw in Fundi, we should pause between William Hogarth and William Cobbett, and likely say— Cobbett. His bluff speech, his hearty and unreasonable likes and dislikes, his hatred of craft ancl injustice, Ins tenderness, his roughness, his swift anger and gruff pity, his pugnacity, his pride, his broad assurance that his ways are the only right ways, his contempt for abstractions, his exaltation of the solidities over the elegancies of life, these and a score of other characteristics identify Wil- liam Cobbett with John Bull. Cobbett was, in his origin, purely an English peasant. He was born in a cottage-like dwelling on the south side of the village of Faruham, in Surrey. Since the Cobbetts left it, about 1780, it has been used as a public-house under the name of the ' Jolly Farmer,'— noted, as we under- stand, for its home-brewed ale and beer, the pro- duce of the Farnham hops. Behind it is a little garden and steep sand-rock, to which Cobbett makes allusion in his writings. 'From my infancy,' says he, — 'from the age of six years, when t climbed up the side of a steep sand-rock, and there scooped me out a i^lot of four feet square to make me a garden, and the soil for which I carried up in the bosom of my little blue WILLIAM COBBETT. smock frock (a hunting shirt), I have never lost one particle of my passion for these healthy and rational, and heart-charming pursuits.' Cobbett, having a hard-working, frugal man for his father, was allowed no leisure and little educa- tion in his boyhood. ' I do not remember,' he says, ' the time when I did not earn my own living. iMy first occupation was driving the small birds from the turnip-seed, and the rooks from the pease. When I first trudged a-field, with my wooden bottle and my satchel slung over my shoulders, I was liardly able to climb tlie gates and stiles ; and at the close of the day, to reach home was a task of infinite difiiciilty. My next employment was weeding wheat, and leading a single iiorse at harrowing barley. Hoeing pease followed ; and hence I arrived at the honour of joining the reapers in harvest, driving the team. ■WILLIAM COBBETT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. WILLIAM COBBETT. and lidding the plough. We vrere all of us strong and laborious ; and my ftitlier used to boast, that ho had four boys, the eldest of whom was b\it llftoen years old, who did as much work as any three men in the parish of Farnham. Honest pride and happy days !' The father, nevertheless, contrived, by his own exertions in the evening, to teach liis sons to read and write. The subject of this memoir in time advanced to a place in the garden of Waverley Abbey, afterwards to one in Kew Garden, where George III. took some notice of him. and where he would lie reading Swift's Tale of a Tub in the evening light. In 1780, he went to Chatham and enlisted as a foot-soldier, and immediately after his regiment was shipped off to jN'ova Scotia, and thence moved to New Brunswick. He was not long in the army ere he was promoted over the heads of thirty ser- geants to the rank of sergeant-major, and without exciting any envy. His steadiness and his use- fulness were so marked, that all the men recognised it as a mere matter of course that Cobbett should be set over them. He helped to keep the accounts of the regiment, for which he got extra pay. He rose at four every morning, and was a marvel of order and industry. ' Never,' he writes, ' did any man or thing wait one moment for me. If I had to mount guard at ten, I was ready at nine.' His leisure he dili- gently applied to study. He learnt grammar when his payAvas sixpence a-day. 'The edge of my bei'th, or that of my guard-bed,' he tells us, ' was my seat to study in ; my knapsack was my book- case ; a bit of board lying on my lap was my writing table. I had no money to buy candle or oil ; in winter time it was rarely I could get any light but that of the fire, and only my turn even of that. To buy a pen, or a sheet of paper, I was compelled to forego some portion of food, though in a state of half starvation. I had no moment to call my own, and I had to read and write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, whistling, and brawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless men.' That was at the out- set, for he soon rose above these miseries, and began to save money. While in New Brunswick he met the girl who became his wife. He first saw her in company for about an hour one evening. Shortly afterwards, in the dead of winter, when the snow lay several feet thick on the ground, he chanced in his walk at break of day to pass the house of her parents. It was hardly light, but there was she out in the cold, scrubbing a washing tub. That action made her mistress of Cobbett's heart for ever. No sooner was he out of hearing, than he exclaimed, ' That's the girl for me ! ' She was the daughter of a sergeant of artillery, and then only thirteen. To his intense chagrin, the artillery was ordered to England, and she had to go with her father. Cobbett by this time had managed to save 150 guineas, the produce of extra work. Considering that Woolwich, to which his sweetheart was bound, was a gay place, and that she there might find many suitors, who, moved by her beauty, might tempt her by their wealth, and, unwilling that she should hurt herself with hard work, he sent her all his precious guineas, and prayed that 346 she would use them freely, for he could get plenty more ; to buy good clothes, and live in pleasant lodgings, and be as happy as she could until he M'as able to join her. Four long years elapsed before they met. Cobbett, wlieu he reached England, found her a maid-of-all-work, at £5 a-year. On their meeting, without saying a word about it, she placed in his hands his parcel of 150 guineas unbroken. He obtained his discharge from the army, and married the brave and thrifty woman. She made him an admirable wife ; never was he tired of speaking her praises, and whatever comfort and success he afterwards enjoyed, it was his delight to ascribe to her care and to her inspiration. At this time he brought a charge of peculation against four officers of the regiment to which he had belonged. A court- martial was assembled, witnesses were summoned, but Cobbett was not forthcoming. He had fled to France, and for his conduct no fair explana- tion was ever given. From France he sailed to New York in 1792, and settled in Philadelphia. Shiumed and persecuted in England, Dr Priest- ley sought a home in Pennsylvania in 1791. Cobbett attacked him in ' Observations on the Immigration of a Martyr to the Cause of Liberty, by Peter Porcupine.' The pamphlet took amazingl}% and Cobbett followed it up with a long series of others discussing public afl'airs in a violent anti- democi'atic strain. He drew upon himself seve- ral prosecutions for libel, and to escape the penalties he returned to England in ISUO, and tried to establish The Porcupine, a daily Tory newspaper, in London. It failed after running a few months, and then he started his famous WeeJcly Register, which he continued without interruption for upwards of thirty-three years. The Register at first advocated Toryism, but it soon veered round to that Hadicalism with which its name became synonymous. The unbridled invective in which Cobbett indulged kept actions for libel continually buzzing about his ears. The most serious of these occurred in 1810, and re- sulted in his imprisonment for two years and a fine of £1,000 to the King. In 1817, he revi- sited America, posting copy regularly for his Register ; and he returned in 1819, bearing with him the bones of Thomas Paine. Again he tried a daily newspaper in London, but he was only able to keep it going for two months. He wished to get into Parliament, and unsuccessfully con- tested Coventry in 1820, and Preston in 1826 ; but in 1832 he was returned for Oldham. His parliamentary career was comparatively a failure. He was too precipitate and dogmatic for that arena. The late hours sapped his health, and he died after a short illness, on the 18th of June 1835, aged seventy-three. The Weekly Register, whilst it alone might stand for the sole business of an ordinary life, represented merely a fraction of Cobbett's activity. He farmed, he travelled, he saw much society, and wrote books and pam- phlets innumerable. His Register was denounced as ' two-penny trash.' He thereon issued a series of political papers entitled Two-penny Trash, which sold by the hundred thousand. His in- dustry, early rising, and methodical habits en- abled him to get through an amount of work incredible to ordinary men. He wrote easily, WILLIAM COBBETT. MAECH 9. MES BARBAULD. but spared no pains to write well ; his terse, fluent, and forcible style has won the praise of the best critics. He had no abstruse thoughts to communicate; he knew what he wanted to say, and had the art of saying it in words which anybody who could read might comprehend. Few could match him at hard hitting in plain words, or in the manufacture of graphic nick- names. Dearly did he enjoy fighting, and a plague, a terror, and a horror he was to many of his adversaries. Jeremy Bentham said of him : ' He is a man filled with odium humani generis. His malevolence and lying are beyond anything.' Many others spoke of him with equal bitterness, but years have toned oiF these animo- sities, and the perusal of his fiercest sayings now- only excites amusement. Cobbett's character is at last understood as it could scarcely be in the midst of the passions which his wild words pro- voked. It is clearly seen that his understanding was wholly subordinate to his feelings ; that his feelings were of enormous strength ; and that his understanding, though of great capacity, had a very limited range. His feelings were kindly, and they were firmly interwoven with the poor and hard-working people of England. Whatever men or measures Cobbett thought likely to give Englishmen plenty of meat and di'ink, good ra,i- ment and lodging, he praised ; and whatever did not directly oifer these blessings he denounced as impostures. Doctrine more than this he had not, and would hear of none. Thus it was that he came to ridicule all arts and studies which did not bear on their face the promise of physical comfort. Shakspeare, Milton, the British Mu- seum, Antiquaries, Philanthropists, and Political Economists, all served in turn as butts for the arrows of his contempt. Of the craft of the demagogue he had little ; he made enemies in the most wanton and impolitic manner ; and thoughts of self-interest seldom barred for an instant the outflow of his feelings. Fickle and inconsistent as were those feelings, intellectually considered, in them Cobbett wrote himself out at large. From his multitudinous and diffuse writings a most entertaining volume of readings might be selected. His love of rural life and rural scenes is expressed in many bits of compo- sition which a poet might envy ; and his tren- chant criticisms of public men and afi'airs, and his grotesque opinions, whilst they would prove what power can live in simple English words, would give the truest picture of him who holds high rank among the great forces which agitated England in the years anterior to the Ileform Bill. DEATH OF CARDINAL MAZARIN. Mazarin, an Italian by birth, and a pupil of Eichelieu, but inferior to liis master, was the minister of the Eegency during the minority of Louis XIV. He was more successful at the close of his career in his treaties of peace than he had been in his wars and former negotiations. In February 1061, he had concluded at Vincennes a third and last treaty with Charles, duke of Lorraine, by which Strasburg, Phalsburg, Stenai, and other places were given up to France. A fatal malady had seized on the Cardinal wliilst engaged in the conferences of the treaty, and, worn by mental agony, he brought it home with him to the Louvre. He consulted Grenaud, the great physician, who told him that he had two months to live. This sad assurance troubled the Cardinal greatly ; his pecuniary wealth, his valuables and pictures, were immense. He was fond of hoarding, and his love of pictures was as strong as his love of power — perhaps even stronger. Soon after his physician had told him how short a time he had to live, Brienne per- ceived the Cardinal in night-cap and dressing- gown tottering along his gallery, pointing to his pictures, and exclaiming, ' Must I quit all these?' He saw Brienne, and seized him : ' Look 1 ' he exclaimed, ' look at that Correggio ! this Venus of Titian ! that incomparable Deluge of Caracci ! Ah ! my friend, I must quit all these ! Farewell, dear pictures, that I loved so dearly, and that cost me so much ! ' His friend surprised him slumbering in his chair at another time, mur- muring, ' Grenaud has said it ! Grenaud has said it!' A few days before his death, he caused himself to be dressed, shaved, rouged, and painted, ' so that he never looked so fresh and vermilion ' in his life. In this state he was carried in his chair to the promenade, where his envious courtiers cruelly rallied him with ironical compliments on his appearance. Cards were the amusement of his death-bed, his hand being held by others; and they were only interrupted by the visit of the Papal Nuncio, who came to give the Cardinal that plenary indulgence to which the prelates of the Sacred College are officially entitled. MRS BARBAULD. Anna Letitia Aiken, by marriage Mrs Bar- bauld, spent most of her long life of eighty -two years in the business of teaching and in writing for the young. Of dissenting parentage and connexions, and liberal tendencies of mind, she was qualified to confer honour on any denomina- tion or sect she might belong to by her consum- mate worth, amiableness, and judgment. She was at all times an active writer, and her writings both in prose and verse display many admirable qualities ; nevertheless, the public now knows little about them, her name being chiefly kept in re- membrance by her contributions to the well- known childi-en's book, mainly of her brother's composition, the Evenings at Home. Amongst Mrs Barbauld's miscellaneous pieces, there is an essay Against Inconsisfenci/ in our Expectations, which has had the singular honour of being reprinted for private distribution by more than one person, on account of its remark- able lessons of wisdom which it is calculated to convey. She starts with the idea that ' most of the unhappiness of the world arises rather from disappointed desires than from positive evil.' It becomes consequently of the first importance to know the laws of nature, both in matter and in mind, that we may reach to equity and modera- tion in our claims upon Providence. ' Men of merit and integrity,' she remarks, ' often censure the dispositions of Providence for suffering characters they despise to run away with advan- 347 MKS BAEBAXJI.r. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION. tages -whii'li, tlioy yot know, arc purcliascd by such means as a liisli and noble spirit eould never submit to. If you refuse to pay tlie price, why expect the purchase ? ' This may be called the key-note of the whole piece. Say that a man has set his lieart on being rich. Well, by patient toil, and unilagging attention to tlie minutest articles of expense and profit, he may attain riches. It is done every day. But let not this ])erson also expect to enjoy ' the pleasures of leisure, of a vacant mind, of a free, xinsuspicious temper.' He must learn to do hard things, to have at the utmost a homespun sort of lionesty, to be in a great measure a drudge. ' I cannot submit to all this.' Very good, he above it ; only do not repine that you are not rich. How strange to see an illiterate fellow attain- ing to wealth and social importance, while a pro- found scholar remains poor and of little account ! If, however, you have chosen the riches of know- ledge, be content with them. The other person has paid health, conscience, liberty for his wealth. "Will you envy him his bargain ? ' You are a modest man — you love quiet and independence, and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper, which renders it impossible for you to elbow your way in the world and be the hero of your own merits. Be content then with a modest retirement, with the esteem of your intimate friends, with the praises of a blameless heart, and a delicate, ingenuous spirit ; but resign tlie splendid distinctions of the world to those who can better scramble for them.' The essayist remarks that men of genius are of all others most inclined to make unreasonable claims. 'As their relish for enjoyment,' says she, ' is strong, their views large and comjn-eheu- sive, and they feel themselves lifted above the common bulk of mankind, they are apt to slight that natural reward of praise and admiration which is ever largely paid to distinguished abili- ties ; and to expect to be called forth to public notice and favour : without considering that their talents are commonly unfit for active life ; that their eccentricity and turn for speculation dis- qualifies them for the business of the world, which is best carried on by men of moderate genius ; and that society is not obliged to reward any one who is not useful to it. The poets have been a very unreasonable race, and have often complained loudly of the neglect of genius and the ingratitude of the age. The tender and pen- sive Cowley, and the elegant Shenstone, had their minds tinctured by this discontent ; and even the sublime melancholy of Young was too much owing to the stings of disappointed ambi- tion.' MISS linwood's exhibition of NEEDLEWORK. Tor nearly half a century, in old Savile House, on the north side of Leicester-square, was exhi- bited the gallery of pictures in needlework which Miss Mary Linwood, of Leicester, executed through her long life. She worked her first picture Avhen thirteen years old, and the last piece when seventy-eight ; beyond which her life was extended twelve years. Genius, virtue, and 348 unparalleled industry had, for nearly three-quar- ters of a century, rendered her residence an honour to Leicester. As mistress of a boarding- school, her activity continued to her last year. In 1814, during her annual visit to her Exhibi- tion in London, .slie was taken ill, and conveyed in an invalid carriage to Leicester, where her health rallied for a time, but a severe attack of influenza terminated her life in her ninetietli year. By her death, many poor families missed the hand of succour, her benevolent disposition and ample means having led her to minister greatly to the necessities of the poor and desti- tute in her neighbourliood. No needlework, either of ancient or modern times, (says Mr Lambert.) has ever surpassed the productions of Miss Linwood. So early as 1785, these pictures had acquired such celebrity as to attract the attention of the lloyal Family, to whom they were shewn at Windsor Castle. Thence they were taken to the metropolis, and shewn privately to the nobility at the Pantheon, Oxford-street ; in 17'J8, they were first exhibited publicly at the Hanover-square llooms ; whence they were removed to Leicester-square. The pictures were executed with fine crewels, dyed under Miss Linwood's own superintendence, and worked on a thick tammy woven expressly for her use : they were entirely drawn and embroidered by herself, no background or other important parts being put in by a less skilful hand — the only assistance she received, if such it may be called, was in the threading of her needles. The pictures appear to have been cleverly set for picturesque effect. The principal room, a fine gallery, was hung with scarlet cloth, trimmed with gold ; and at the end was a throne and canopy of satin and silver. A long dark passage led to a prison cell, in which was Northcote's Lady Jane Grey Visited by the Abbot and Keejocr of the Tower at Night ; the scenic illusion bemg complete. Next was a cottage, with casement and hatch-door, and within it Gainsborough's cottage children, standing by the fire, witij chimney-piece and furniture complete. Near to this was a den, with lionesses ; and further on, through a cavern aperture was a brilliant sea- view and picturesque shore. The large picture by Carlo Dolci had appropriated to it an entire room. The large saloons of Savile House were well adapted for these exhibition purposes, by insuring distance and effect. The collection ultimately consisted of sixty- four pictures, most of them of large or gallery size, and copied from paintings by great masters. The gem of the collection, Salvator Mundi, after Carlo Dolci, for which 3,000 guineas had been refused, was bequeathed by Miss Linwood to her Majesty Queen Victoria. In the year after Miss Linwood's death, the pic- tures were sold by auction, by Christie and Manson ; and the prices they fetched denoted a strange fall in the money-value of these curious works. The JiuUjment on Cain, which had occupied ten years working, brought but £01 Is. ; Jephthas Hash Vow, after Opie, sixteen guineas ; two pic- tures from Gainsborough, The Shejpherd lioy, ijVj 6s. 6d., and The Ass and Children, £23 2s. The MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION. MARCH 9. OLD LONDON SHOPS. Farmer s Stable, after Morlaad, brought £32 lis. A portrait of Miss Linwood, after a crayon pic- lure by Russell, R.A., brought eighteen guineas ; and ^ Woodman in a Storm, by Gainsborough, £33 Is. Gd. Barker's Woodman brought £29 8s. ; The Girl and Kitten, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION OF NEEDLEWORK. £10 15s. ; and Ladij Jane Greij, by Northcote, £24 13s. In the Scripture-room, TJie Nativit//, by Carlo Maratti, was sold for £21 ; Bead Christ, L. Caracci, fourteen guineas ; but The Madonna della Sedia, after RafFaelle, was bought in at £38 17s. A few other pictures were reserved ; and those sold did not realize more than £1,000. OLD LOXDOX SHOPS. Business in the olden time was conducted in a far more open way than among ourselves. Ad- vertising in print was an art undiscovered. A dealer advertised by word of mouth from an open shop, proclaiming the qualities of his wares, and inviting passengers to come and buy them. The principal street of a large town thus became a scene of noisy confusion. The little we know of the ancient state of the chief London thorough- fares, shews this to have been their peculiarity. In the south of Europe wc may still see some- thing of the aspect which the business streets of old London must have presented in the middle ages ; but the eastern towns, such as Constanti- nople or Cairo, more completely retain these leading characteristics, in ill-paved streets, crowded markets, open shops disconnected with dwelling-houses, and localities sacred to par- ticular trades. The back streets of Naples still possess similar arrangements, which must have existed there unchanged for centuries. The shops are vaulted cells in the lower story of the houses, and are closed at night by heavy doors secured by iron bars and massive padlocks. In the draw- ings preserved in medieval manuscripts we see such shops delineated. Our first cut, copied from one of the best of these pictures, executed about 1490, represents the side of a street apparently devoted to a confraternity of mercers, who ex- hibit hats, shoes, stockings, scarfs, and other articles in front of their respective places of business ; each taking their position at the counter which projects on tlie pathway, and from whence they addressed wayfarers when they wanted a customer. Lydgate, the monk of Bury, in his curious poem called London Lack-pennij, has de- scribed the London shops as he saw them at the close of the fourteenth century : 349 OLD LONDON snOPS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD LONDON SHOPS. ' Where Flcmyngs to me began to cry, " Master, what will you cheapen or buy ? Fine felt hats, or siiectaclcs to read ; Lay down your silver and here you may speed." ' He afterwards describes the streets crowded with peripatetic traders. ' Hot peascods' one began to cry, and others strawberries and cherries, while ' one bade me come near and buy some spice ; ' but he passes on to Cheapside, then the grand centre of trade, and named from the great market or cheapo established there from very early time : ' Then to the Cheap my steps were drawn, Where much people I there saw stand ; One ofifered me velvet, silk, and lawn, " Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land !'" Tempting as all oflfers were, his lack of money brought him safely through the throng : 'Then went I forth by London stone, Throughout all Canwyke-street ; Drapers much cloth me offered anon, Then comes me one, cried, " Hot sheepes feet ! " ' Among the crowdanother cried 'Mackerell!' and he was again hailed by a shopkeeper, and invited to buy a hood. The Liber Alhus, a century before Lydgate, describes these shops, which con- sisted of open rooms closed at night by shutters, the tenants being enjoined to keep the space before their shops free of dirt, nor were they to sweep it before those of other people. At that time paving was unknown, open channels drained the streets in the centre, and a few rough stones might be placed in some favoured spots ; but mud and mire, or dust and ruts, were the most usual condition of the streets. On state occasions, such as the entry of a sovereign, or the passage to "Westminster of a coronation procession from the Tower, the streets were levelled, ruts and gullcys filled in, and the road new gravelled ; but these attentions were seldom bestowed, and the streets^ 350 of course, soon lapsed into their normal con- dition of filthy neglect. The old dramatists, whose works often preserve unique and valuable records of ancient usages, incidentally allude to these old shops ; thus in Middleton's comedy, The lioaring Girl, IGll, Moll Cutpurse, from whom the play is named, refuses to stay with some jovial companions : ' I cannot stay now, 'faith : I am going to buy a shag- ruff : the shop will be shut in presently.' One of tlio scenes of this play occurs before a series of these open shops of city traders, and is thus described : ' The three shops open in a rank [like those in our cut]: the first an apothecary's shop; the next a feather shop ; the third a sempster's shop;' from the last the passengers are saluted with ' Gentlemen, Avhat is't you lack ? what is't you buy ? see fine bands and ruffs, fine lawns, fine cambricks : what is't you lack, gentlemen ? what is't you buy ? ' This cry for custom is often contemptuously alluded to as a characteristic of a city trader ; and in the capital old comedy Eastivard Hoe, the rakish apprentice Quick- silver asks his sober fellow-apprentice, ' What ! wilt thou cry, what is't ye lack ? stand with a bare pate, and a droi^ping nose, under a wooden penthouse.' This dialogue takes place in the shop of their master, ' Touchstone, a honest goldsmith in the city ;' its uncomfortable character, and the exposure of the shopkeeper to all weathers, is fully confirmed by the glimpses of street scenery we obtain in old topographic prints. Faithorne's view of Fish-street and the Monument represents a goldsmith's open shop with its wooden pent- house ; it appears little better than a shed, with a few shelves to hold the stock ; and a counter, behind which the master is ensconced. It shews that no change for the better as regarded the comfort of shopkeepers was made by the Great Fire of London. With the Eevolution came a government well-defined in the Bill of Bights, and a con- sequent additional security to trade and com- merce. Traders increased, and London enlarged itself; yet local government continued lax and bad; streets were unpaved, ill-lighted, and danger- ous at night. Shops were still rude in construc- tion, open to wind and weather, and most uncom- fortable to both salesman and buyer. A candle stuck in a lantern swimg in the night breezes, and gave a dim glare over the goods. Tlie wooden penthouse, which imperfectly protected the wares from drifts of rain, was succeeded by a curved projection of lath and plaster. Our thii'd cut, from a print dated 1736, will clearly exhibit this, OLD LONDON SHOPS. MAECH 9. OLD LONDON SHOPS. as well as the painted sign (a greyhound) over the door ; the shop front is furnished with an open railing-, which encloses the articles exposed for sale ; in this instance, fruit is the vendible com- modity, and oranges in baskets appear piled under the window. The lantern ready for light- ing hangs on one side. The custom of noting inns by signs, was suc- ceeded by similarly distinguishing the houses of traders ; consequently in the seventeenth century sign-painting flourished, and the practice of the ' art ' of a sign-painter was the most profitable branch of the fine arts left open to Englishmen. The houses in London not being niunbered, a tradesman coidd only be known by such means ; hence every house in great leading thorough- fares displayed its sign ; and the ingenuity of traders was taxed for new and cliaracteristic devices by which their shops might be distin- guished. The sign was often engraved as a ' heading ' to the shop-bill ; and many whimsical and curious combinations occurred from the custom of an apprentice or partner in a well- known house adopting its sign in addition to a new device of his own. These signs were some- times stuck on posts, as we see them in country inns, between the foot and carriage way. In narrow streets they were slung across the road. More generally they projected over the footpath, supported by ironwork which was wrought in an elaborate, ornamental style. A young tradesman made his first and chiefest outlay in a new sign, which was conspicuously painted and gilt, sur- rounded by a heavy, richly carved, and painted frame, and then suspended from massive deco- rative ironwork. Chcapside was still the coveted locality for business, and the old views of that favoured locality are generally curious from the delineation of the line of shops, and crowd of signs, that are presented on both sides the way. From a view of Bow Church and neighbourhood published by Bowles in 1751, we select the two examples of shops engraved below. The two modes of suspending the signs are those generally in vogue. In one instance the shop is enclosed by glazed windows ; in the other it is open. The latter is a pastrycook's ; a cake on a stand occu- pies the centre of the bracketed counter, which is protected by a double row of glazing above. Still the whole is far from weatherproof, and a heavy drifting rain must have been a serious inconvenience when it happened, not to speak of the absolute damage it must have done. The mercers, hatters, and shoemakers made their places of business distinguished by throwing out poles, such as we see at the shops of country barbers, at an angle from the shop-front over the foot-path, hanging rows of stockings, or lines of hats, &c.. upon them. When a shower came, these could at once be hauled in, and saved from damage ; but the signs swung and grated in the breeze, or collected water in the storm, which descended on the unlucky pedestrian, for whom no umbrella had, as yet, been invented. The spouts from the houses, too, were ingeniously contrived to condense and pour forth a volume of water which wavered in the wind, and made the place of its full totally un- certain ; a few rough semi-globular stones formed a rude pavement in places ; but it was often in bad condition, for each householder was allowed to do what he pleased in this way, and sometimes he solved the difficulty of doubting what was best by doing nothing at all. The pedestrian was protected from -carriages by a line of posts, as seen in our cut ; but he was constantly liable to be thrust in the gutter, or driven into a door- way or shop, by the sedan-chairs that crowded the streets, and which were thoroughly hated by all but the wealthy who used them, and those who profited by their use. ' The art of walking the streets of London' was therefore an art, necessary of acquirement by study, and Gay's poem, which bears the title, is an amusing picture of all the difficulties which beset pedestrianism when the wits of Queen Anne's reign rambled from tavern to tavern, to gather news or enjoy social converse. These ponderous signs, with their massive iron frameworks, as they grew old, grew dangerous ; they wouldrotandfall, and when this did not occur, they ' made night hideous ' by the shrieks and groans of tlic rusty hinges on which they swung. They impeded sight and ventilation in narrow 351 OLD LONDON SHOrS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD LONDON SHOPS. streets, and sometimes liiing iuooiiveniently low for velui'les. At last tliey -were doomed by Act of Parliament, and in 171)2 ordered to be removed, or, if used, to be plaeed Hat against the fronts of the houses. They had increased so enormously that every tradesman had one, each trying to hide and outvie his neighbour by the size or colour of his own, until it became a tedious task to discover the shop wanted. Gray , in his ' Trivia,' notes how — 'Oft the peasant, witli inquiring face, Bewildered, trudges on from place to place ; He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze, Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze, Tries every winding court and sti'cct in vain, And doubles o'er his weary steps again.' In addition to swinging painted sign-boards, it was sometimes the habit with the rich and am- bitious trader to engage the services of the wood-carver to decorate his house with figures or emblems, the figures being those of some animal or thing adopted for his sign, as the stag seen over one of the doors in the ciit of the Cheapside shops ; or else representations, mo- delled and coloured ' after life,' of pounds of candles, rolls of tobacco, cheeses, &c. &c. There existed in St Martin's-lane, twenty years ago, a fine example of a better-class Lon- don shop, of which we here give a wood-cut. It had survived through many changes in all its essential features. The richly carved private door- case told of the well-to-do trader who had erected it. The shop was an Italian warehouse ; and the window was curiously constructed, carrying out the traditional form of the old open shop with its projecting stall on brackets, and its slight window above, but eiFecting a compromise for security and comfort by enclosing the whole in a sort of glass box ; above which the trade of the occupant was shewn more distinctly in the small oil-barrels placed upon it, as well as by the models of candles which hung in bunches from the canopy above. The whole of this framework was of timber richly carved throughout with 3.52 foliated ornament, and was unique as a surviving example of the better class shops of the last century. It was in the early part of the reign of George I. that shops began to be closed in with sash- windows, allowing them to be open in fine weather, but giving the chance of closing them in winter and during rain. Addison alludes to it in the Taller, as if it was a somewhat absurd luxury. ' Private shops,' says he, ' stand upon Corinthian pillars, and whole rows of tin pots show themselves, in order to their sale, through a sash window.' A great improvement of the most economic and simple kind succeeded the old and expensive signs. This was numbering houses in a street. The first street so num- bered was New Burlington-street, in June 1701. The fashion spread eastward, and the houses in Lincoln's-inn-fields were the next series thus distinguished. The old traders who stuck perti- naciously to their signs, affixed them flat to their walls, and a few thus preserved rot in obscurity in some of our lonely old streets ; one of the earliest and most curious is ' The Doublet,' in Thames-street, which seems to have originated in the days of Elizabeth, and to have been painted and repainted from time to time, till it is now scarcely distinguishable. The once-famed inn, used by Shakspeare, ' The Bell,' in Great Carter- lane, is no longer an inn ; but its sign, a bell, boldly sculptured in high relief, and rich in deco- ration, is still on its front. Other sculptured signs remain on city houses, but units now repre- sent the hundreds that once existed. At the corner of Union-street, Southwark, where it opens on the Blackfriars-road, is a well-executed old sign ; a gilt model, life-size, representing a dog licking an overturned cooking-pot. It is curious that this very sign is mentioned in that strange old poem, ' Cock Lorell's Boat' (published by AYynkyu de Worde, in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII.) : one of the passengers is described as dwelling ' at the Sygne of the dogges hed in the pot. ' In Holywell-street, Strand, is the last remain- A FOETUJfE-TELLEE. MARCH 10. EEVEESE8 OF THE PATJLETS, ing shop sign in situ, being a boldly-sculptured lialf-moon, gilt, and exhibiting the old conven- tional face in the centre. Some twenty years ago it was a mercer's shop, and the bills made out for customers were ' adorned with a picture ' of this sign. It is now a bookseller's, and the lower part of the windows have been altered into the older form of open shop. A court beside it leads into the great thoroughfare ; and the corner-post is decorated Avitk a boldly-carved lion's head and paws, acting as a corbel to support a still older house beside it. This street altogether is a good, and now an almost unique specimen of those which once were the usual style of London business localities, crowded, tortuous, and ill-ven- tilated, having shops closely and inconveniently packed, but which custom had made familiar and inoffensive to all ; while the old traders, who delighted in ' old styles,' looked on improvements with absolute horror, as ' a new-fashioned way ' to bankruptcy. X FORTUNE-TELLER OF THE LAST CENTURY. Eai'ly in the year 1789, died in the Charter-house, Isaac Tarrat, a man of some literary merit, who had actually practised the arts of a fortime-teller. Originally a linendraper in the city, and a thriving one, he had from various causes proved ultimately imsuccessful, and at seventy knew not how to obtain his bread. One who had coutriljuted, as he had done, to the Ladies' Diary and the Genilemaii's Magazine, would have now beeu at no loss to live by the press ; it was different in those days, and Tarrat was reduced to become a fortune-teller. In a mean street near the Middlesex Hospital, there was an obscure shojJ kept by an elderly woman, who had long made a livelihood by means of an oracle maintained on the premises. It became the office of Mr. Tarrat to sit in an upper room, in a fur cap, a white beard, and a flowing worsted damask night-gown, and tell the fortunes of all who might apjjy. The woman sat in the front shop, receiving the company, and taking their money. ' The Doctor ' was engaged in this duty at a shilling a day and his food. He admitted that his mistress treated him kindly, always giving him a small bowl of punch after supper ; there was no great chscomfort in his situation, beyond the constant distress of mind he suffered from reflecting on the infamous character of his occupation. He had occasion to remark with surprise that many of his customers were of less mean and illiterate ap2>earauce than might be expected. At length, having scraped together a small amount of cash, Tarrat gave up his place — and he did so just in time, as his successor had not been a month in office when he was taken up as an impostor. Poor Tarrat afterwards found a retreat in the Charter-house, and there contrived to make the thread of life spin out to eighty-eight. Tlie Profession of a Conjurer, a hundred years ago, was by no means imcommon, nor does it seem to have been thought a discreditable one. A person named Hasscll was in fidl practice as a cunning man in the neighbourhood fif Tunliridge Wells, very recently. One of the best known of his craft (in Sussex), Avas a man of the name of Sanders, of Heathfiold, who died about 1807. He was a respectable man, and at one time in easy circumstances, but he neglected all earthly concerns for astrological pursuits, and, it is said, died in a workhouse. 23 MARCH 10. The Forty Martyrs of St Sebaste, 320, St Mac- kessog (or Kessog), Bishop in Scotland, 560. St Droctovtcus, Abbot, about 580. Born. — Bishop Duppa, 1598-9, Leioisham ; Marcellus Malpighi, microscopic anatomist, 1628, Bologna; Pro- fessor Playfair (Natural Philosophy), Benvie, 1748 ; Wil- liam Etty, R.A., painter, 1787, York; E. H. Daily, R.A., sculptor, 1788, Bristol. Died. — Heliogabalus (Emperor), beheaded, a.d. 222 ; Pope Benedict III., 858 ; Ladislaus III. of Poland, 1333 ; Thomas Lord Seymour, of Sudley, beheaded, 1549 ; William Paulet, first Marquis of Winchester, 1572, Basing; Sir Hugh Myddleton, engineer {New River), 1636 ; Sir John Denham, poet, 1668 ; John, Earl of Bute, (prime minister, 1762-3,) South Audley -street, London, 1792 ; Benjamin West, painter, P.R.A., 1820 ; John VI., King of Portugal, 1826. GOOD BISHOP DUPPA. As you ascend Eichmond Hill, by the roadside, near the Terrace, you see an old pile of red brick which testifies the benevolence of a good Bishop, who lived in troublous times, but ended his days in peace, one of his latest works being the erection and endowment of the above edifice. The fol- lowing inscription is on a stone tablet, over the outer entrance : — ' Votiva Tabula, I wiU pay my vows which I made to God in my trouble.' It was founded by Dr Brian Duppa, towards the close of his life. He had been chaplain to Charles I., and tutor to his children, the Prince of Wales and Duke of York. After the decapi- tation of his royal master, he retired to Eich- mond, where he led a solitary life until the Eestoration ; soon after which he was made Bishop of Winchester, and Lord-almoner. He died at Eichmond, in 1662 ; having been visited, when on his death-bed, by Charles IL, a few hours only before he expired. In the previous year the good bishop had founded the above almshouse, endowing it for ten poor women, unmarried, and of the age of fifty years and upwards ; for whose support he settled the rentals of certain properties in the county. The almswomen are elected by the minister and vestry of Eichmond-, and are each allowed £1 montlily, and a further £1 at Midsummer and Christmas ; together with a gown of substantial cloth, called Bisho]p's blue, every other year. They have each, also, a Christmas dinner of a barn-door fowl and a pound of bacon, secured to them by the lease of a farm at Shepperton. REVERSES OF THE PAULETS. The first Marquis of Winchester was one of those members of the peerage who stand out as prominent persons in the national history, giving direction to public affairs, exercising vast influ- ence, acquiring great accumulations of honours and wealth, and leaving families to dwindle behind them in splendid insignificance. Born about 1475, the son of a small Somersetshire gentleman, William Paulet or Powlctt (for the name is spelt both ways) devoted himself to court life, and in time prospered so well that he 353 EEVERSES OF THE PAtJLETS, THE BOOK OF DAYS. HONEYCOMBS IN TIMBEE. became successively Comptroller and Treasurer of the Household to King Henry A^III. Under the boy kiu'j; who svicceeded, he rose to be Lord Treasurer, the higliest ollice iu the state, being then over seventy years of age. Under the same reign he was ennobled, and linally made Marquis of Winchester. It has never been said that ho possessed masterly abilities ; he is only presented to us as a man of great policy and sagacity. "NA'hen the death of the young king raised a dy- nastic difficulty, old Powlctt saw that the popu- lar sentiment would not ratify the pretensions of Lad}'' Jane Grey, and, throwing himself into the opposite scale, he was the chief instrument in preserving the crown for Mary. Through that bloody reign, he continued to be Lord Treasurer. "When Elizabeth and Protestantism succeeded, he still contrived to keep his place. In fact, this astute old man maintained uninter- rupted prosperity down to his death in 1571-2, when he was ninety-seven, enormously wealthy, and had upwards of a hundred descendants. It might well excite surprise that a statesman should have kept high place from Edward's reign, through Mary's, into Elizabeth's ; and the question was one day put to him, how it was that he did so. He answered that ' he was born of the willow, not of the oak.' He seems to have been remark- able for pithy sayings. One is recorded — •' That there was always the best justice when the court was absent from London.' The old Marquis amused himself in his latter years by buildmg a superb house at Basing, in Hants ; it is said to have been more like a palace than a nobleman's mansion. But we hear no more of the cautious wisdom which founded the greatness of the family. We hear of the third marquis writing poetry and giving away large estates among four illegitimate sons ; of the fourth impoverishing himself by a magnificent entertainment to Queen Elizabeth; and of the fifth taking the losing side in the Civil War. After all, the conduct of this last lord was not the least creditable part of the family history. On the breaking out of that great national strife. Lord Winchester fortified Basing House for the king, enclosing about fourteen acres within the exterior rampai'ts. A large garrison, well provisioned, enabled him not merely to defy a powerful besieging force, but to make upon it many deadly sallies. He wrote on every window of the house the words, Aimez loyaute, which have since continued to be the motto of the famdy crest. He swore to maintain his position so long as a single stone of his mansion remained. It was not till after a siege of two years (October 1G45), that the investing army succeeded in their object. The house, in which the captors found valuables amounting to £300,000, was burnt to the ground. The Marquis survived to 1674, and his loyal faith and courage were acknowledged in an epitaph by Dryden. A curious particular in the subsequent history of the family is the marriage, by its representa- tive Charles Duke of Bolton, of Lavinia Fenton, the actress, remarkable for having first performed ^(Mxi Peachum in the Beggar's Opera. To this subject we shall have occasion to make reference on a future occasion [see April 11). 354 HONEYCOMBS IN TIMBER. Among the many interesting facts concerning bees which attract the attention not only of natiualists, l)ut of other persons accpiaintod with country life, is the existence of honeycombs in timber. The little workers select their dwellings iu accordance with instincts which are yet but little understood ; pene- trating through or into solid substances by means apparently very inadequate to the work to be done. M. Reaumur proposed the name of carpenter-bees to denote those which work in wood, to distinguish them from the imison-hees that work in stone, and the viinvtg-bees that work underground. Mr Rennie {Insect Architecture) says, ' We have frequently witnessed the operations of these ingenious little workers, who are particularly partial to posts, palings, and the wood-work of houses which has become soft by beginning to decay. Wood actually decayed, or atTected by dry rot, they seem to reject as unfit for their purjiose ; but they make no objections to any hole previously drilled, provided it be uot too large. ' It is always, so far as is known, a female bee that thus engages in carpentry. Mr liennie describes one which he saw actually at work. She chiselled a place in a piece of wood, for the nest, with her jaws ; she gnawed the wood, little bits at a time, and flew away to deposit each separate fi-agmeut at a distance. When the hole was thus made, she set out on repeated journeys to bring jjollen and clay ; she visited every flower near at hand fltted to yield pollen, and brought home a load of it on her thighs ; and alternated these journeys with others which resulted iu bringing back little pellets of clay. After several days' labour, she had brought in pollen enough to serve as food for the future generation, and clay enough to close up the door of her dwelling. Several days afterwards, Mr Rennie cut open the wooden post in which these operations had been going on. He found a nest of six cells ; the wood formed the lateral walls, but the cells Avere sepai-ated one from another by clay partitions no thicker than cardboard. The wood was worked as smooth as if it had been chiselled by a joiner. Such instances are of repeated occurrence, more or less varied iu detail. Thus, on the 10th of March 1858, some workmen employed by Mr Brumfitt, of Preston, while sawing up a large solid log of baywood, twenty feet long by two feet square, discovered a cavity in it about eight feet long, containing a fidl-fonued honeycomb. Many carpenter-bees dig perpeuchcular galleries of great depth in upright posts and palings. Reaumur describes a particular kind, called by him the violet carpenter-bee (on account of the beautifid colour of the wings), which usually selects an upright piece of wood, into which she bores obliquely for about an inch, and then, changing the direction, works perpendicularly for twelve or fifteen inches, and half an inch in breadth. She sometimes scoops out three or four such channels in one piece of wood. Each channel is then partitioned into cells about an inch in depth; the partitions being made in a singular way from the sawdust or rather gua\vings of the wood. The dejjositing of the eggs, the storing of them with pollen, and the building up of the partitions, proceed in regular order, thus. The bee first deposits an egg at the bottom of the excavation ; then covers it with a thick layer of paste made of pollen and honey ; and then makes over or upon this a wooden cover, by arranging concentric rings of little chips or gnawings, till she has formed a hard flooring about as thick as a crown-piece, exhibiting (from its mode of construc- tion) concentric rings like those of a tree, and cemented by glue of her own making. She deposits an egg on this flooring or partition, then another layer of soft food for another of her children, and THE BEOWNIE BEE. MAECH 10. THE BEOWNIE BEE. then biiilds another partition — and so on, for a series of perhaps ten or twelve in height. Few things are more wonderful in their way than this ; for the little worker has no tools but two sharj) teeth to help her ; she bores a tunnel ten or twelve times her own length quite smooth at the side ; and makes ten or twelve floors to her house by a beautiful kind of joineiy. This labour occupies several weeks. The egg first dejiosited develops into a grub, a jiupa, and a perfect bee earher thau the others ; and the mother makes a side door out of the bottom cell for the elder children to work their way out when old enough ; they can pe- netrate the partitions between the cells, but not the hard wood of a piece of timber. THE BROWNIE BEE. {A Cornish Croon.) I. Behold those wingfed images ! Bound for their evening bowers ; They are the nation of the bees. Born from the breath of flowers ! Strange people they ! A mystic race. In life and food and dwelling-place ! II. They first were seen on earth, 'tis said, When the rose breathes in spring : Men thought her blushing bosom shed These childi-en of the wing : But lo ! their hosts went down the wind, TTiUed with the thoughts of God's own mind ! III. They built them houses made with hands, And there, alone, they dwell ; No man to this day understands The mystery of their cell : Your cmiuing sages cannot see The deep foundations of the bee ! IV. Low in the violet's breast of blue For treasured food they sink ; They know the flowers that hold the dew For their small race to drink : They glide — King Solomon might gaze With wonder on their awful ways ! V. And once — it is a grandame's tale, Yet fiUed with secret lore — There dwelt within a woodland vale, Fast by old Cornwall's shore, An ancient woman, worn and bent, Fallen Nature's mournful moniunent. VI. A home had they — the clustering race. Beside her garden-wall ; All blossoms breathed around the place. And sunbeams fain would fall ; The lily loved that combe the best. Of all the valleys of the west ! VII. But so it was that on a day. When summer built her bowers, The waxen wanderers ceased to play ■ Around the cottage flowers : No hum was heard ; no wing would roam ; They dwelt within their cloistered home ! vni. This lasted long — no tongue could tell Their pastime or their toil ! What binds the soldier to his cell. Who shoidd divide the spoil ? It lasted long — it fain would last. Till Autumn rustled on the blast ! IX. Then sternly went that woman old, She sought the chancel floor : And there, with purpose bad and bold, Knelt down amid the poor : She took, she hid, the blessed bread, Which is, what Jesu master said ! X. ; She bare it to her distant home. She laid it by the hive, — To lure the wanderers forth to roam. That so her store might thrive : 'Twas a wild wish, a thought unblest, Some cruel legend of the west ! But lo ! at morning- tide, a sign ! For wondering eyes to trace; They found, above that bread, a shrine Reared by the harmless race : They brought their walls from bud and flower. They built bright roof and beamy tower ! xii. Was it a dream ? or did they hear Float from those golden cells, A sound, as of some psaltery near. Or soft and silvery bells ? A low, sweet psalm, that grieved A^ithin, In mournful memory of the sin ! XIII. Was it a dream? 'tis sweet no less. Set not the vision free ; — Long let the lingering legend bless. The nation of the bee ! So shall they bear upon their M-ings, A parable of sacred things I So shall they teach, when men blaspheme, Or sacrament or shrine. That himibler things may fondly dream Of mysteries divine : And holier hearts than his may beat. Beneath the bold blasphemer's feet ! E. S. H. Open air Preaching is sometimes heard from a great distance. It must of course depend much on the character of the speaker's voice, but also to a con- siderable extent on conditions of the surface and on the hygrometric state of the atmosphere. Mrs Oliphant, in her Life of the Eev. Edward Irving, states that he had been on some occasions clearly heard at the distance of half a mile. It has been alleged, however, that Black John Eussell of Kil- marnock, celebrated by Burns in no gracious terms, was heard, though not perhaps intelligibly, at the distance of a fidl mile. It would a])i)ear that even this is not the utmost stretch of the jiheno- menon. A correspondent of Jameson's Journal, in 1828, states that, being at the west end of Dumfer- line, he overheard part of a sermon then deUvcring at a tent at Cairneyhill by Dr Black : he did not miss a word, ' though the distance must be something about two miles : ' the pi-cacher has, perhaps, seldom been surpassed for distinct speaking and a clear voice : ' and the wind, which was steady and moderate, came in the direction of the sound.' TEK AVITCHES OF BELVOIR. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE WITCHES OF BELVOIE. MARCH 11. St Constantine, of Scotland, martyr, Glh century. St Si'plironius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, C39. St yKiigus, the Cuhlee, bishop in Ireland, 824. St Eulogius, of Cordova, P.'iD. Borti. — Torquato Tasso, Italian port, 1,')44, Sorrcnio ; John Peter Niceron, French biographer, 1085, Paris; William Huskisson, statesman, 1770, Birch Jloretoti Court, Worcestershire. Died. — John Toland, miscellaneous writer, 1722, Pat- uey ; Hannah Cowley, dramatic writer, 1809, Tiverton. THE WITCHES OF BELVOIR. On the lltli of March 1618-19, two women named Margaret and Pliilippa Flower, were burnt at Lincoln for the alleged crime of witch- craft. With their mother, Joan Flower, they had been confidential servants of the Earl and Countess of Eutland, at Belvoir Castle. Dis- satisfaction with their employers seems to have gradually seduced these three women into the practice of hidden arts in order to obtain revenge. According to their own confession, they had entered into communion with familiar spirits, by which they were assisted in their wicked designs. Joan Flower, the mother, had hers in the bodily form of a cat, which she called Sutterkin. Tliey used to get the hair of a member of the family and burn it ; they would steal one of his gloves and plunge it in boiling water, or rub it on the back of E.utterkin, in order to effect bodily harm to its owner. They would also use fright- ful imprecations of wrath and malice towards the objects of their hatred. In these ways they were believed to have accomplished the death of Lord Eoss, the Earl of Eutland's son, besides in- flicting friglitfid sicknesses upon other members of the family. It was long before the carl and countess, who were an amiable couple, suspected any harm in these servants, although we are told that for some years there was a manifest change in the coun- tenance of the mother, a diabolic expression being assumed. At length, at Christmas, 1618, the noble pair became convinced that they were the victims of a hellish plot, and the three women were apprehended, taken to Lincoln jail, and examined. The mother loudly protested inno- cence, and, calling for bread and butter, wished it might choke her if she were guilty of the offences laid to her charge. Immediately, taking a piece into her mouth, she fell down dead, probably, as Ave may allowably conjecture, overpowered by consciousness of the contrariety between these protestations and the guilty design which she had entertained in her mind. Margaret Flower, on being examined, acknow- ledged that she had stolen the glove of the young heir of the family, and given it to her mother, Avho stroked Eutterkin with it, dipped it in hot water, and pricked it ; whereupon Lord Eoss fell ill and suffered extremely. In order to prevent Lord and Lady Eutland from having any more children, they had taken some feathers from their bed, and a pair of gloves, which they boiled in water, mingled with a little blood. In all these particulars, Philippa corroborated her sister. Both women admitted that they had familiar spirits, which came and sucked them at various parts of their bodies ; and they also described visions of devils in various forms which they had had from time to time. Associated with the Flowers in their horrible jlnncJSaker Joane\AJjllimotf ElletL GrEcne 356 THE THREE WITCHES OF BELVOIR, THE FIKST DAILY PAPEE. MAECH 11. THE LUDDITES. practices were three other ■women, of the like grade in life, — -Anne Baker, of Eottesford ; Joan VVillimot, of Goodby ; and Ellen Greene, of Stathorne, all in the county of Leicester, whose confessions were to much the same purpose. Each had her own familiar spirits to assist in working out her malignant designs against her neighbours. That of Joan Willimot was called Pretty. It liad been blown into her mouth by her master, AVilliam Berry, in the form of u fairy, and immediately after came forth again and stood on the lioor in the shape of a woman, to whom she forthwith promised that her soul should be enlisted in the infernal service. On one occasion, at Joan Flower's house, she saw two spirits, one like an owl, the other like a rat, one of which sucked her imder the ear. This woman, however, protested that, for her part, she only employed her spirit in inquiring after the health of persons whom she had undertaken to cure. Greene confessed to having had a meeting with Willimot in the woods, when the latter called two spirits into their company, one like a kitten, the other like a mole, which, on her being left alone, mounted on her shoulders and sucked her under the ears. She had then sent them to be- witch a man and woman who had reviled her, and who, accordingly, died within a fortnight. Anne Baker seems to have been more of a visionary than any of the rest. She once saw a hand, and heard a voice from the air ; she had been visited with a flash of lire ; all of them ordinary occur- rences in the annals of hallucination. She also had a spirit, but, as she alleged, a beneficent one, in the form of a white dog. From the frontispiece of a contemporary pamphlet giving an account of this group of witches, we transfer a homely picture of Baker, Willimot, and Greene, attended each by her familiar spirit. The entire publication is reprinted in JS^ichols's Leicester- nhire. The examinations of these wretched women were taken by magistrates of rank and credit, and when the judges came to Lincoln the two surviving Flowers were duly tried, and on their own confessions condemned to death by the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, Sir Henry Hobbert. THE FIRST DAILY PAPER. The Briti.sh journal entitled to this description was The Daily Coiirant, commenced on the 11th of Marcli 1702, by ' E. Mallet, against the Ditch at Fleet Bridge,' a site, we presume, very near that of the present Times' office. It was a single page of two columns, and professed solely to give foreign news, the editor or publisher further assuring his readers that he would not take upon him.self to give any comments of his own, ' supposing otlier people to have sense enougli to make reflections for themselves.' The Dailji Courant very soon passed into the hands of Samuel Buckley, ' at the sign of the Dolphin in Little Britain,' — a publislicr of some literary attainments, who afterwards became the printer of the Spectator, and pursued on the whole a useful and respectable career. As a curious trait of the practices of tlie government of George I., we have Buckley entered in a list of persons laid before a Secretary of State (1724), as ' Buckley, Amen-corner, the worthy printer of the Gazette — -well-afTected ;' i.e. well-all'ected to the Hanover succession, a point of immense con- sequence at that epoch. The Daily Courant was in 1735 absorbed in the Daily Gazetteer. * THE LUDDITES. ' Who makes the quartern-loaf and Luddites rise ?' James Smith. March 11th, 1811, is a black-letter day in the annals of Nottinghamshire. It witnessed the commencement of a series of riots which, extend- ing over a period of five years, have, perhaps, no parallel in the history of a civilized country for the skill and secrecy with which they were managed, and the amount of wanton mischief they inflicted. The hosiery trade, which employed a large part of the population, had been for some time previously in a very depressed state. This naturally brought with it a reduction in the price of labour. During the mouth of February 1811, numerous bands of distressed framework- knitters were employed to sweep the streets for a paltry sum, to keep the men employed, and to prevent mischief. But by the 11th of March their patience was exhausted ; and flocking to the market-place from town and country, they resolved to take vengeance on those employers who had reduced their wages. The timely ap- pearance of the military prevented any violence in tlie town, but at night no fewer than sixty- three frames were broken at Arnold, a village four miles north of Nottingham. During the succeeding three weeks 200 other stocking frames were smashed by midnight bands of distressed and deluded workmen, who were so bound toge- ther by illegal oaths, and so completely disguised, that veiy few of them could be brought to jus- tice. These depredators assumed the name of Luddites; said to have been derived from a youth named Ludlam, Avho, when his father, a framework-knitter in Leicestershire, ordered him to ' square his needles,' took his hammer and beat them into a heap. Their plan of operation was to assemble in parties of from six to sixty, as circumstances required, under a leader styled General or Ned Lxidd, all disguised, and armed, some with swords, pistols, or firelocks, others with hammers and axes. They then proceeded to the scene of destruction. Those with swords and firearms were placed as a guard outside, while the others broke into the house and demo- lished the frames, after which they reassembled at a short distance. The leader then called over his men, wlio answered not to names, but to certain numbers ; if all were there, and their work for the night finished, a pistol was fired, and they then departed to their homes, removing the black handkerchiefs which had covered their faces. In consequence of the continuance of these daring outrages, a large military force was brought into the neiglibourhood, and two of the London police n\agistrates, with several other officers, came down * Andrews's Uistorij of British Journalism. 2 vols. 1859. 357 THE LVDDITES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. BITING THE THUMB. to Nottingliam, to assist tlie civil power in at- temptint:; to discover tlio rins;lcaders ; a secret committee was also fonuod. and supplied witli a lari^fo sum of money tor the purpose of obtaining private information; but in spite of this Angilance, and in contempt of a Eoyal Proclamation, the oflenders continued their devastations with re- doubled violence, as the following instances will shew. On Sunday night, November 10th, a party of Luddites proceeded to the village of JBulwell, to destroy tlie frames of Mr Holling- worth, Avho, in anticipation of their visit, had procured the assistance of three or four friends, who with lire-arms resolved to protect the pro- perty. Many shots were fired, and one of the assailants, John Westley, of Arnold, Avas mortally wounded, which so enraged the mob that they soon forced an enti'ance : the little garrison fled, and the rioters not only destroyed the frames, but every article of furniture in the house. On the succeeding day they seized and broke a wag- gou-load of frames near Arnold ; and on the Wednesday following proceeded to Sutton-in- Ashfield, where they destroyed thirty-seven frames ; after which they were dispersed by the military, who took a number of prisoners, four of wliom were fully committed for trial. During the following week only one frame was destroyed, but several stacks were hurned, most probably, as was supposed, by the Luddites, in revenge against the owners, who, as members of the yeoman cavalry, were active in suppressing the riots. On Sunday night, the 24th of November, thirty-four frames were demolished at Basford, and eleven more the following day. On Decem- ber the 6th, the magistrates published an edict, which ordered all persons in the disturbed dis- tricts to remain in their houses after ten o'clock at night, and all public-houses to be closed at the same hour. Notwithstanding this proclama- tion, and a great civil and military force, thirty- six frames were broken in the villages around Nottingham within the six following days. A Eoyal Proclamation was then issued, offering £50 reward for the apprehension of any of the of- fenders ; biit this only excited the men to further deeds of daring. They now began to plunder the farmhouses both of money and provisions, declaring that they ' would not starve whilst there was plent}^ in the land.' In the month of January 1812, the frame-breaking continued with unabated violence. On the 30th of this month, in the three parishes of Nottingham, no fewer than 4,348 families, numbering 15,350 individuals, or nearly half the population, were relieved out of the poor rates. A large subscription was now raised to offer more liberal rewards against the perpetrators of these daring outrages ; and at the March assize seven of them were sentenced to transportation. In this month, also, an Act of Parliament was passed, making it death to break a stochinr/ or a laee frame. In April, a Mr Tren- tham, a considerable manufacturer, was shot by two ruffians while standing at his own door. Happily the wound did not prove mortal ; but the oJ9fenders were never brought to justice, though a reward of £600 was offered for their appre- hension. This evil and destructive spirit con- tinued to manifest itself from time to time tiU 358 October 1816, when it finally ceased. Upwards of a thousand stocking frames and a number of lace machines were desti-oyed by it in the county of Nottingham alone, and at times it spread into the neighbouring counties of Leicester, Derby, and York, and even as far as Lancaster. Its votaries discovered at last that they were in- juring themselves as much or more than their employers, as the mischief they perpetrated had to be made good out of the county rate. BITING THE THUMB. In Romeo and Juliet the servants of Capulet and Montague commence a quarrel by one biting his thumb, apparently as an insult to the others. And the commentators, considering the act of biting the thumb as an insulting gesture, quote the following passage from Decker's Dead Term in support of that opinion : — ' What swearing is there' (says Decker, describing the groups that daily frequented the walks of St Paul's Church), 'what shouldering, what jostling, what jeering, what biting of thumbs to beget c[uarrels !' Sir Walter Scott, referring to this subject in a note to the Lay of the Last Minstrel, says : — ' To bite the thumb or the glove seems not to have been considered, upon the Border, as a gesture of contempt, though so used by Shakspeare, but as a pledge of mortal revenge. It is yet remem- bered that a young gentleman of Teviotdale, on the morning after a hard drinking bout, observed that he had bitten his glove. He instantly de- manded of his companions with whom he had quarrelled ? and learning that he had had words with one of the party, insisted on instant satis- faction, asserting that, though he remembered nothing of the dispute, yet he never would have bitten his glove without he had received some unpardonable insult. He fell in the duel, which was fought near Selkirk in 1721 [1707].' It is very probable that the commentators are mistaken, and the act of biting the thumb was not so much a gesture of insulting contempt as a threat — a solemn promise that, at a time and place more convenient, the sword should act as the arbitrator of the quarrel ; and, consequently, a direct challenge, which, by the code of honour of the period, the other party was bound to accept. The whole history of a quarrel seems to be detailed in the graphic quotation from Decker. We almost see the ruffling swash- bucklers strutting up and down St Paul's-walk, full of braggadocio, and ' new-turned oaths.' At first they shoulder, as if by accident ; at the next turn they jostle ; fiery expostiilation is answered by jeering, and then, but not tiU then, the thumb is bitten, expressive of dire revenge at a con- venient opportunity, for fight they dare not within the precincts of the cathedral church. A curious illustration of this subject will be found in the following extract from evidence given at a court-martial held on a sergeant of Sir James Montgomery's regiment, in 1642. It may be necessary to state that, though the regiment was nominally raised in Ireland, all the officers and men were Scotch by birth, or the immediate descendants of Scottish settlers in Ulster. Ser- geant Kyle was accused of killing Lieutenant BITING THE THUMB. MAECH 11. BITING THE THUMB. Baird ; and one of the witnesses deposed as follows : — The witness and James McCul- logb. going to drink together a little after nightfall on the twenty-second of February, the said lieutenant and sergeant ran into the room where they were drinking, and the ser- geant being first there, offered the chair he sat on to the lieutenant, but the lieutenant refused it, and sat upon the end of a chest. After- wards, the lieutenant and sergeant fell a- jeering one another, upon which the sergeant told the lieute- nant that if he would try him, he would find him a man, if he had aught to say to him. Also, Ser- geant Kyle threw down his glove, saying there is my glove, lieutenant, unto which the lieutenant said no- thing. Afterwards, many iU words were (exchanged) between them, and the lieutenant threatening him (the said sergeant), the sergeant told him that he would defend him- self, and take no disgrace at his hands, but that he was not his equal, he being his inferior in place, he being a lieutenant and the said Kyle a sergeant. Afterwards the sergeant threw down his glove a second time, and the lieutenant not having a glove, demanded James McCuUogh his glove to throw _ to the sergeant, who would not give him his glove ; upon that, the lieutenant held tip Ms thumb licTcing on it u-ith his tongue, and saying, ' There is my parole for it.' Afterwards, Sergeant Kyle went to the lieutenant's ear, and asked him, 'When?' The lieutenant answered, ' Presently.' Upon that Sergeant Kyle went out, and the lieutenant followed with his sword drawn under his arm, and being a space distant from the house said, ' Where is the villain now ? ' ' Here I am for you,' said Kyle, and so they struck fiercely one at another. Licking of the thumb — and why not biting ? — is a most ancient form of giving a solemn pledge or promise, and has remained to a late period in Scotland as a legalized form of undertaking, or bargain. Erskine, in his Institutes, says it was ' a symbol anciently used in proof that a sale was perfected; which continues to this day in bargains of lesser importance among the lower ranks of the people — the parties licking and join- ing of thumbs ; and decrees are yet extant, sustaining sales upon " summonses of thumh- lidcing," upon this, •' That the parties had licked thumbs at finishing the bargain." ' Proverbs and snatches of Scottish song may be cited as illustrative of this ancient custom ; and in tlie parts of Ulster where the inhabitants are of Scottish descent, it is still a common saying, when two persons have a community of . opinion on any subject, ' We may lick thooms upo' that.' Jamieson, in his Scottish Dictionary, remarks — ' This custom, though now apparently credu- lous and childish, bears indubitable marks of THE INTERIOR OF OLD ST PAUL'S. great antiquity. Tacitus, in his Annals, states that it existed among the Iberians ; and Ihre alludes to it as a custom among the Goths. I am well assured by a gentleman, who has long resided in India, that the Moors, when con- cluding a bargain, do it, in the very same man- ner as the vidgar in Scotland, by licking their thumbs.' According to Ducange, in the medieeval period the thumb pressed on the wax was recognised as a seal to the most important documents, and secre- taries detected in forging or falsifying documents were condemned to have their thumbs cut off. The same author gives an account of a northern princess who had entered a convent and became a nun. Subsequently, circu^mstances occurred which rendered it an important point of high policy that she should be married, and a dispen- sation was obtained from Eome, abrogating her conventual vow, for that purpose. The lady, however, obstinately refused to leave her con- vent, and marry the husband which state policy had provided for her, so arrangements were made for marrying her by force. But the nun, placing her right thumb on the blade of a sword, swore that she would never marry, and as an oath of this solemn character could not be broken, she was allowed to remain in her convent. Hence it appears that a vow made with the thumb on a sword blade was considered more binding than that on taking the veil ; and that, though the Pope could grant a dispensation for the latter, 359 THE butchers' SERENADE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE BUTCnERS' SERENADE. he could not or -^youUI not give one for the former. t^omethliii^ of the san\e kind prevaUed anions the Ivonians ; and the Latin word polliccrl— to promise, to ensjai^e— has by many been considered to be derived from jjo//c.r—poi//c/s, the thumb. THE BUTCHKRS' SEIIE^'ADE. Hosarth. in his delineation of the Marriage of the Industrious Apprentice to his master's daughtoi', takes occasion to introduce a set of butchers coming forward with marrowbones and cleavers, and roughly pushing aside those who doubtless considered themselves as the legitimate musicians. We are thus favoured with a memo- rial of what might be called one of the old insti- tutions of the London vulgar— one just about to expire, and which has, in reality, become obsolete in the greater part of the metropolis. The custom in question was one essentially connected with marriage. The performers were the butchers' men, — ' the bonny boys that wear the sleeves of blue.' A set of these lads, having duly accomplished themselves for the purpose, made a point of attending in front of a house containing a marriage party, with their cleavers, and each provided with a marrowbone, where- with to perform a sort of rude serenade, of course with the expectation of a fee in re- quital of their music. Sometimes, the group would consist of four, the cleaver of each ground to the production of a certain note ; but a full band— one entitled to the highest grade of reward — would be not less than eight, producing a complete octave ; and, where there was a fair skill, this series of notes would have all the fine effect of a peal of bells. When this serenade happened in the evening, the men would be dressed neatly in clean blue aprons, each with a portentous wedding favour of white paper in his breast or hat. It was wonderful with what (j[uickuess and certainty, under the THE BUTCHERS SERENADE. enticing presentiment of beer, the serenaders got wind of a coming marriage, and with what tenacity of purpose they would go on with their performance until the expected crown or half- crown was forthcoming. The men of Clare Market were reputed to be the best performers, and their guerdon was always on the highest scale accordingly. A meriy rough affair it was ; troublesome somewhat to the police, and not always relished by the party for whose honour it 360 was designed; and sometimes, when a musical band came upon the ground at the same time, or a set of boys would please to interfere with pebbles rattling in tin canisters, thus ihrowing a sort of burlesque on the performance, a few blows would be interchanged. Yet the Marrowbone-and- Cleaver epithalamium seldom failed to diffuse a good humour throughout the neighbourhood; and one cannot but regret that it is rapidly passing among the things that were. ST GREGORY THE GREAT. MAECH 12. BISHOP BERKELEY. MARCH 12. St Maximilian of Niimidia, martyr, 296. St Paul of Cornwall, bishop of Leon, about 573. St Gregory the Great, Pope, 604. ST GREGORY THE GREAT. There liave been Popes of every shade of liuman character. Gregory the Great is one distinguished by modesty, disinterestedness, and sincere religious zeal, tempered by a toleration which could only spring from pure benevolence. The son of a Eoman senator, with high mental gifts, and all the accomplishments of his age, he was drawn forward into prominent positions, but always against his will. He would have fain continued to be an obscure monk or a missionary, but his qualities were svich that at length even the popedom was thrust upon him (on the death of Pelagius II. in 590). On this occasion he wrote to the sister of the Emperor, ' Appearing to be outwardly exalted, I am really fallen. My endeavours were to banish corporeal objects from my mind, that I might spiritually behold heavenly joys I am come into the depths of the sea, and the tempest hath drowned me.' The writings of Pope Gregory, which fiU four folio volumes, are said to be very admirable. The English King Alfred showed his apprecia- tion of one treatise by translating it. In exer- cising the functions of his high station, Gregory exhibited great mildness and forbearance. He eagerly sought to convert the heathen, and to bring heretics back to the faith ; but he never would sanction the adoption of any harsh measures for these purposes. One day — before he attained the papal chair — walking througli the market in Rome, he was struck by the beauty of a group of young persons exposed to be sold as slaves. In answer to his inquiry of who they were, and whence they came, he was told they were Anr/li, from the heathen island of Britain. ' V'erily, Angell,' he said, punning on the name ; ' how lamentable that the prince of darkness should be the master of a country containing such a beautiful people ! How sad that, with so fair an outside, there should be nothing of God's grace within ! ' His wish was immediately to set out as a missionary to England, and it was with difficulty he was prevented. The incident, however, led to a mission being ere long sent to our then benighted country, which thus owed its first reception of Christian light to Gregory. Almsgiving, in such Protestant countries as England, is denounced as not so much a lessening of human sufiering as a means of engendering and extending pauperism. Gregory liad no such fears to stay his bountiful hand. With him to relievo the poor was the first of Cliristian graces. He devoted a large proportion of his revenue and a vast amount of personal care to this object. He in a manner took tlic entire charge of the poor upon liis own hands. ' Ho relieved their necessities with so muc]i sweetness and affability, as to spare them the confusion of receiving alms; the old men among them he, out of deference, called his fathers. He often entertained several of them at his own table. He kept by him an exact catalogue of the poor, called by the ancients mat ri cuke ; and he liberally provided for the necessities of each. In the beginning of every month he distributed to all the poor corn, wine, pulse, cheese, fish, llesh, and oil ; he appointed officers for every street, to send every day necessaries to all the needy sick ; before he ate, he always sent off meats from his own table to some poor persons.' There may be some bad moral results from this wholesale system of relief for poverty, but certainly the motives which prompted it must be acknowledged to have been highly amiable. Gregory was a weakly man, often suffering from bad health, and he did not get beyond the age of sixty-four. We owe to him a phrase which has become a sort of formula for the popes — ■ 'Servant of the servants of God.' His name, which is the same as Vigllantiits or Watchman, became, from veneration for him, a favourite one ; we find it borne, amongst others, by a Scottish prince of the eighth century, the reputed progenitor of the clan M'Gregor. It is curious to think of this formidable band of Highland outlaws of the seventeenth century as thus connected by a chain of historical cii'cumstances with the gentle and saintly Gregory, who first caused the lamp of Christianity to be planted in England. Burn. — Godfrey Bidloo, anatomist, 1G49, Ainslenlam ; John Thomas Desasruliers, philosophical writer, 1G83, Rochelle ; Bishop G. Berkeley, philosopher, 1684, Kilcv'm, Kilkenny ; John Frederick Daniell, chemist and meteo- rologist, 1790, Essex-street, Strand. Died. — Cticsar Borgia, killed, 1508, Castle of Viana ; Alexander Piccolomini, Italian miscellaneous writer, 1578, Siena; Ludovick Muggleton, sectarian (Muggletoniansj, 1697 ; the Rev. Dr George Gregory, editor of the New Annual Register, 1808, West Ilam ; Rev, R. Polwliele, topographer and poet, 1838. BISHOP BERKELEY. Dr George Berkeley, better known as Bishop Berkeley, the mathematician and ideal philo- sopher, graduated at Trinity College, Dublin, which he entered as a pensioner at the early age of fifteen. Very different opinions prevailed about him at College ; those who If new little of him took him for a fool, while those who were most intimate with him con- sidered him a prodigy of learning. _ His most intimate friends were the best judges in this case, for before he reached his twenty-third year he competed for and obtained a fellowship. Within tlie next three years he published his Theorij of Vision, a work of remarkable sagacity, and the first of its kind. Its object may be roughly stated to bo an attempt, and a successful one, to trace tlie boundary line between our ideas of sight and touch. He supposed that if a man born blind could be enabled to see, it would be impossibk! for him to recognise any object by sight whicli he had previously known by touch, and that such a person would have no idea of the relative distance of objects. This supposition was confirmed in a very surprising manner in the year 1728, eighteen years after the publica- 3(51 BISHOP BERKELEY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE TEAEFIC OF WOMEn's HAIR. tion of Mr Berkeley's book by a yoiin,£f man wlio was born blind and couched by Mr Clieseldon. He said that all objects seemed to toucli his eyes ; he was unable to distinguish the dog from the ('(if^ by sight, and was so sorely puzzled between his newly-acquired sense and that of touch that he asked which Avas the l_i/iuci sense. In tlie next year Berkeley published his Principles of UidiuDi Knowlcdcie, in which ho set forth his celebrated system of immafcrialism, attempting to prove that tlio common notion of the existence of matter is false, and that such things as bricks and mortar, chairs and tables, are nonentities, except as ideas in the mind. A further defence of this system, in 27iree Dialogues between Hi/las and PJiilonoits, established his reputation as a writer, and his company was sought even Avliere his opinions were rejected. Through Dean Swift he was introduced to the celebrated Earl of Peter- borough, whom he accompanied to Italy in the capacity of chaplain. His first piece of preferment was the deanery of Derry, And no sooner was he settled in this than he conceived and carried out to the utmost of his power a project which entitles him to the admiration of posterity. It was nothing less than a scheme for the conversion of the savage Americans to Christianity. He proposed to erect a college in Bermuda as a missionary school, to resign his deanery, worth £1,100 a year, and to go out himself as its first president, on the stipend of £100 a year. His plan was approved by parliament, and he set out, taking with him three other noble and kindred spirits. For seven years Sir R. Walpole delayed him with various excuses, and at last gave him to imder- stand that the promised grant would not be paid till it suited ' public convenience,' thus render- ing the whole scheme abortive. In 1733, he was appointed to the bishopi'ic of Cloyne. The rest of his life was devoted to the earnest discharge of his episcopal duties and the further prosecution of his studies. His custom was to rise between three and four o'clock, sum- mon his family to a music lesson, and spend the rest of the morning in study. In this part of his life, he published The Analyst, which was followed by several other works,' among which was a letter to the Roman Catholics of his diocese, entitled A Word to the Wise, for which in the Dublin Journal of November 18, 1749, they re- turned ' their sincere and hearty thanks to the worthy author, assuring him that they are deter- mined to comply with every particular recom- mended in his address to the utmost of their power.' Suffering a good deal from a nervous colic towards the end of his life, and finding relief from tar-water, he wrote a treatise on its virtues, which, with its sequel. Further Thoughts on Tar- icater, was his last work for the press.* He died at Oxford, suddenly, in the midst of his family, on Sunday evening, January 14, 1753, while listening to a sermon of Dr Sherlock's which Mrs Berkeley was reading to him. He was interred in Christ Church, Oxford. * For a fuller account of the work on tar-water, see under January 14 3G2 LUDOVICK MUGGLETON. A time of extraordinary religious fervour is sure to produce its monsters, even as the hot mud of the Nile was fabled to do by Lucretius. Several arose amidst the dreadful sectarian con- tendings of the period of the civil war, and scarcely any more preposterous than Ludovick Muggleton, who is said to have been a working tailor, wholly devoid of education. About 1651, when this man was between forty and fifty years of age, he and a brother in trade, named Reeves, announced themselves as the two last witnesses of God that would ever be appointed on earth ; professed a prophetic gift, and pretended to have been invested with an exclusive power over the gates of heaven and hell. When Reeves died, Muggleton continued to set himself forth in this character, affecting to bless those who respect- fully listened to him, and cursing all who scofled at him, assuming, in short, to have the final destiny of man, woman, and child entirely in his own hand. By ravings in speech and print, he acquired a considerable number of followers, chiefly women, and became at length such a nuisance, that the public authorities resolved, if possible, to put him down. His trial at the Old Bailey, January 17, 1G77, ended in his being sentenced to stand in the pillory on three days in three several parts of London, and to pay a fine of £500, or be kept in jail in failure of pay- ment. His books were at the same time ordered to be publicly burnt. All this severity Muggle- ton outlived twenty years, dying at length at the age of ninety, and leaving a sect behind him, called from him Muggletonians. It would serve to little good purpose to go farther into the history of this wretched fanatic. One anecdote, however, luay be related of him. It happened on a day, when Muggleton was in his cursing mood, that he very energetically devoted to the infernal deities a gentleman who had given him some cause of ofience. The gentle- man immediately drew his sword, and placing its point at the cursing prophet's breast, de- manded that the anathemas just pronounced should be reversed upon pain of instant death. Muggleton, who had no relish for a martyrdom of this kind, assumed his blessing capacity, and gave the fiery gentleman the fullest satisfaction. There is no mention of Muggletonians in the ofllcial report of the census of 1851, though it included about a dozen small sects, under various uncouth denominations. As late as 184G, some of Muggleton's incomprehensible rhapsodies were reprinted and published, it is sincerely to be hoped for the last time. THE TRAFFIC OF WOMEN S HAIR. As a rule, the women of England do not sell their hair. There is, however, in England, a large and regular demand for this article, to make those supposititious adornments which one sees in every hair-dresser's window. It is stated that a hundred thousand pounds' weight of human hair is required to supply the demand of the English market. It is mainly brought from the continent, where women of the humbler rank THE TEAFFIC OF WOMEN S HAIE. MAECH 13. BELISAEIUS, may be said to cherish their hair with a view to sellincf it for money. Light hair comes mostly from Belgium and Germany, dark from France and Italy. There is a Dutch company, the agents of which make annual visits to the towns and villages of Germany, buying the tresses of poor women. In France the trade is mostly in the hands of agents, sent out by large firms at Paris. These agents, going chielly to the Breton villages, take with them a supply of silks, lacea, ribbons, haberdashery, and cheap jewellery, which they barter with the peasant women and girls for their tresses. Mr Trollope, while travelling in Brittany, saw much of this singular hair-crop- ping going on ; as the women in that province all wear close-fitting caps, the difference between the cropped and the nncropped was not so per- ceptible as it otherwise would have been. The general price is said to vary from about one franc to five francs for a head of hair half a pound to a pound in weight ; but choice speci- mens occasionally command more than their weight in silver, owing to the eager competition of buyers to obtain them. In England, something of this kind is going on in country villages, but not (it is supposed) to any great extent. A feeling of womanly pride rebels against it. Occasionally, however, evidence peeps out to show that poor Englishwomen know that there is a market for such a com- modity. One instance of a ludicrous kind oc- curred at a metro]Dolitan police-court some years ago. On March 12th, 1825, the court was thronged by a number of poor women, who seemed excited and uncomfortable, and who whispered among themselves as to who should be the spokeswoman to tell the tale which aU evidently desired should be told. At length one of them, with a manner half ashamed, told the magistrate that one Thomas Eushton, a barber, called at her poor abode one day, and asked politely to look at her hair. Whether she guessed his errand, is not clear ; but she took off her cap at his bidding. He professed to be in raptures with the beauty of her hair, and offered her a guinea for it. Being m straitened circumstances she accepted the offer. The rogue at once took out his scissors, and cut off" the whole of her hair. ' See, your worship,' said she, ' what he has done.' His worship did see, and found that there were only little stumps of hair left like pig's bristles. The feUow put her hair in his hat, put the hat on his head, and ran off without giving her a single coin. All the other women in the court had been defrauded of their tresses in a similar way, and pi'obably all on the same day — for the rogue could not afford to wait until the exploit got wind. The poor women declared that they had been rendered quite miserable when they came to show their husbands their cropped heads — which may well be imagined. It may be added that, about a hundred years ago, when false hair was perhaps more in use than it is now, a woman residing in a Scotch burgh used to get a guinea from time to time for her tresses, which were of a bright golden hue. MARCH 13. St Euphrasia, virgin, 410. St Mochoemoc, abbot in Ireland, 655. St Gerald, bishop in Ireland, 732. St Theophanes, abbot, 818. St Nicephorus, patriarch of Constantinople, 828. St Kennocha, virgin in Scotland, 1007. 5om.— Esther Johnson (Swift's Stella), 1681, Sheen, Surrey; Dr Josepli Priestley, philosophical writer, 1733, Field-head; Joseph II. (of Germany), 1741; Charles, Earl Grey, statesman, 1764, Howick. i>jefZ.— Belisarius, general, 565, Constantinople ; Cardinal d'Ossat, 1604, Rome ; Bartholo, Legate, burned, 1614; Richard Cowley, actor, 1618, Shoreditch ; John Gregory, scholar, 1646 ; Jean de la Fontaine, French poet, 1695; Peter Mignard, French painter, 1695; Nicolas Boileau, French poet, 1711; Archbishop Herring, 1757, Croydon; Sophia Lee, novelist, 1824; J. F. Daniell, chemist and meteorologist, 1845 ; Regina Maria Roche, novelist, {Children of the Abbey,) 1845; Sir T. N. Talfourd, dramatist and lawyer, 1854; Richard, Lord Braybrooke, editor of Pepys's Diary, 1858. BELISARIUS. Belisarius is one of those historical names which, from accidental circumstances, are more impressed on our memories than some of greater importance. As not unfrequently happens, the circumstance which has most enlisted our sym- pathies with it proves on investigation to be a mere fiction. The picture of the aged hero, deprived of his eyes, and reduced to beggary by the ingratitude of his imperial master, and seek- ing individual charity in the memorable words. Date obolum Belisario, is familiar to every school- boy as a touching example of the inconstancy of fortune. Yet it is a story inconsistent with the facts of history, invented apparently several centuries after the period at which it was sup- posed to have occurred, and first mentioned by John Tzetzes, a Greek writer of no authority, who lived in the twelfth century. The origin of Belisarius is doubtful, but he has been conjectured to have been a Teuton, and to have been at least bred in his youth among the Goths. We find him first serving as a barbarian recruit among the private guards of Justinian, before he ascended the imperial throne, and, after that event, which took place in a.u. 527, he was raised to a military command, and soon displayed qualities as a warrior and a man which give him a rank among the most celebrated names of anti- quity. His great services to the Empire com- menced with the arduous campaign in 529, in which he protected it against the invasions of the Persians. He returned to Constantinople to save the Emperor from the consequences of a great and dangerous insurrection in the capital. In 533, he received the command of an expedition against the Vandals, who had made themselves masters of Carthage and Africa, and by his mar- vellous skill and constancy, as well as by_ his moderation and policy, he restored that province to the Empire. In the command of hia army he had to contend with troops who, as well as their officers, were demoralized and turbulent, and in reducing them to discipline and obedience he I 363 BELISARIUS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN GREGORY. performed a more diillcult task than even tliat of conqnering the enenij'. The consequence was that the olhcers Avho served under Belisarius indulged their jeahnisy and personal hostility hy writing toConstantinople, dis]iaraging his exploits, and privately accusing him of a design to nsurj) the kingdom of Africa. Justinian Jiimself was jealous of his benefactor, and indirectly recalled him to the Court, where, however, his presence silenced envy, if it did not overcome it, and he obtained the honours of a triumph, the first which had yet been given in the city of Constantinople. It was adorned by the presence of Gelimer, the captive king of the Vandals of Africa ; and imme- diately afterwards Belisarius was declared consul for the following year. Belisarius was soon called upon to march at the head of the Eoman armies against the Goths of Italy, where new victories and new conquests attended him, and Italy also was restored to the Imperial crown. During this war. Borne was besieged by the Goths, and only saved from them by the conduct of the great imperial commander. The glory of Belisarius was now at its height, and, though the praise of the court was faint and hollow, lie was beloved by the soldiei's, and almost adored bj^ the people, whose prosperity he had secured. After another brief expedition against the Persians, Belisarius fell under the displeasure of the empress, the infamous Theodora, and was disgraced, and even in danger of his life. He only escaped by submission, and again left Constantinople to take the command of an Italian war. The Gothic king Totilas had again invaded that province, and was threatening Rome. Unsupported and unsupplied with troops and the necessaries of war, Belisarius was obliged to remain an idle spectator of the progress of the Goths, until, in a.d. 546, they laid siege to Home, and proceeded to reduce it by famine. Before any succour could arrive, the imperial city was surrendered to the barbarians, and the king of the Goths became its master. It was, however, preserved from entire destruction by the remonstrances of Belisarius, who reco- vered possession of it in the following year, and repaired its walls and defences. But treachery at home continued to counteract the efforts of the general in the provinces, and, after struggling gloriously against innumerable and insurmount- able difficulties, Belisarius was finally recalled to Constantinople in the year 548. After his de- parture, the Goths again became victorious, and the following year Borne was again taken by Totilas. The last exploit of Belisarius saved Constan- tinople from the fury of the Bulgarians, who had invaded Macedonia and Thrace, and appeared within sight of the capital. Now an aged veteran, he attacked them with a small number of troops hastily collected, and inflicted on them a signal defeat ; but Justinian was guided by treacherous councils, and prevented his general from following up the success. On his return, he was welcomed with acclamations by the in- habitants of Constantinople ; but even this appears to have been imputed to him as a crime, and the emperor received him coldly, and treated him with neglect. This, which occurred in 559, 304 was his last victory ; two years afterwards, an occasion was taken to accuse Belisarius of com- ])licity in a conspiracy against the life of the emperor. He presented himself before the im])crial council with a conscious innocence which coidd not be gainsayed ; but Justinian had pre- judged his guilt ; his life was spared as a favour, but his wealth was seized, and he was confined a ])risoner in his own palace. After he had been thus confined a few months, his entire innocence was acknowledged, and he was restored to his liberty and fortune ; but he only survived about eight months, and died on the 13th of March, 5(35. The emperor immediately confiscated his treasures, restoring only a small portion to his wife Autonina. JOHN GREGORY. 'This miracle of his age for critical and curious learning,' as Anthony Wood describes him, was born at Amersham, in Buckinghamshire, on the 10th November, 1607. and baptized at the parish church on the 15th of the same month. He was the son of John and Winifred Gregory, who were, says Fuller, ' honest though mean (poor), yet rich enough to derive unto him the hereditary infir- mityof the gout.' Having been found a boy of talent, he was probably educated and sent to Oxford at the expense of some member of the Drake family, for in 1024 we find him at Christ Church in the capacity of servitor to Sir William Drake, where ' he and his master,' says Wood, 'were placed under the tuition of the learned Mr George Morley, afterwards Bisho]) of Winchester.' Young Gregory Avas an inde- fatigable student, devoting no less than ' sixteen out of every four-and-twenty hours ' to the pursuit of learning. This almost incredible application he continued for years ; and when, in 1031, he took the degree of Master of Arts, he astonished his examiners with the amount of his learning. Dr Duppa, the Dean of Christ's Church, struck with Gregory's erudition, took him under his especial patronage, and gave him a minor canonry in his cathedral; subsequently, on becoming Bishop of Chichester, he appointed Gregory his domestic chaplain, and conferred on him a prebend in his cathedral ; and, on being translated to the see of Salisbury, he also gave him a stall in that cathedral. Woocl's account of Gregory's acquirements is too curious to be given in any but his own words. ' He attained,' says this biographer, ' to a learned elegance in English, Latin, and Greek, and to an exact skill in Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabic, Ethiopic, &c. He was also well versed in philosophy, had a curious faculty in astronomy, geometry, and arithmetic, and a familiar acquaintance with the Jewish Babbins, Ancient Fathers, modern critics, commentators, and what not.' His works, which are still extant,* though scarce, corroborate * His works were — 1. Notes on the Vieio of the Civil and Ecclesiastical Law hy Sir Thomas Ridley, Kiit. These notes, which evinced great learning, indefatigable investigation, and critical acumen, were published when he was only twenty-six, and passed through several editions. 2. Notes and Ohservalions on some passages of Scrip- inres. This work also passed through several editions. JOHN GREGORY. MAECH 13. PROFESSOR DANIELL. the above account; yet -while lie necessarily brings forth liis learning in discussing abstruse questions, he makes no display of it, and Fuller, after stating that he Avas ' an exquisite linguist and general scholar,' adds, ' his modesty setting the greater lustre on his learning.' JSTor does he appear to have taken any active part in the contentions of his day. His works are confined to learned and scientific subjects, and scarcely manifest a bias to any party. Yet neither his modesty, nor humble birth, nor his profound learning, nor his quiet inoflfeusive habits could save him from the animosity that was then rampant in the two contending parties. He was deprived of all his preferments, and reduced to destitution — without a home, and without the means of procuring one. His case was but a common one in those days of national strife and bloodshed. At length he found a place of refuge — a miserable one it was, at ' an obscure ale- house standing on the green at Kidling- ton, near Oxford, and kept by a man named Sutton.' Gre- gory, in the days of his prosperity, had taken Sutton's son into his service ; had treated him with kindness and bene- volence ; had im- proved his education, and endeavoured to advance his condi- tion in life. What became of the boy is not known, but Gre- gory's kindness to him had reached the father's heart, and now Sutton, with meritorious grati- tude, offered Gre- gory an asylum and a home. Here the learned prebendary lingered out the last years of his life, tor- mented with gout, and in all his afflic- tions subject to the noise and discomfort of a village alehouse. He died on the 13th of March, 1646, and his friends, who dur- ing his life were either unwilling or 3. Eiijhl learned Tracts, published after liis death under the title of Gregorii Posthtima, with a short account of the Author's Life set before tliem, written by his dearest friend John Gurgany (Son of Hugh Gurgany, Priest), sometimes a Servitor of Christ Church, afterwards Chap- lain of Merton College ; dedicated to Edward Bysshe, Clar. King of Arms, a Patron not only to the Author, but to Gurgany in the time of their afllictions. afraid to alleviate his sufferings, contributed towards his funeral expenses, and gave him honourable burial in the choir of Christ Church cathedral. Many and extravagantly eulogistic were the elegies which now appeared in praise of his erudition, his humility, and his piety. UANIELL AND METEOROLOGY FORTY YEARS AGO. Professor Daniell died in a moment, in the Council-room of the Eoyal Society, immediately after concluding some remarks on a scientific subject, the day after ho had completed his fifty- fifth year. He was one of the most accomplished men of science of his day, distinguished as a professor of chemistry, and as a writer of treatises on cliemistry and electricity, but is perhaps most notable to us as one of the first in our country to attempt philosophical authorship on meteoro- logical subjects. Tliis science is now culti- vated assiduously, under favour of the British Association and the Board of Trade, and has ob- servers contributing to its results in all parts of the world ; but in 1823, when Mr Daniell publish- ed his Meieorolo- ffical Essays, it was in a most rudimen- tary state. Mr Daniell owned in this volume his obligations to the works of preceding workers — the foun- dation-stones, as he called them, of the science, — but in an especial manner to Mr (afterwards Dr) Dalton, who had re- cently explained the constitution of the mixed gases. He had been enabled to ar- rive at the conclu- sion that there are, as it were, two dis- tinct atmospheres surrounding the earth — the air, and the suspended va- pour — whose rela- tions to heat are different, and whose conditions of equilibrium are incompatible Avith each other. Owing to the antagonisms of these two fluids, a continual movement is kept up, tend- ing to the most important results. After tracing the phenomena, the philosopher, in a devout strain, which was characteristic of him, pro- ceeded to say : ' In tracing the harmonious results of such discordant operations, it is im- 365 THE PLANET rEANUS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. WEATHER NOTIONS, possible not to pause to offer up a Imrablo tribute of admiration of the designs of a beneficent rrovidenoe, thus imperfectly developed in a de- partment of creation where they have been supposed to be most obscure. By an invisible, but ever-active agencj'', the waters of the deep are raised into the air, whence their distribution follows, as it were, by measure and weight, in proportion to the beneficial effects which they are calculated to produce. By gradual, but almost insensible expansions, the equipoised currents of the atmosphere are disturbed, the stormy winds arise, and the waves of the sea are lifted up ; and that stagnation of air and water is prevented which would be fatal to animal exist- ence. But the force which operates is calculated and proportioned ; the very agent which causes the disturbance bears with it its own check ; and the storm, as it vents its force, is itself setting the bounds of its own fury.' AYhen we consider the activity now shown in the prosecution of meteorology, it will appear scarcely credible that, so lately as the date of Mr Daniell's book, there were no authorized instruments for observation in this department but those at the Eoyal Society's apartments in London, which had long been in such a state that no dependence whatever could be placed upon them. The barometer had been filled without any care to remove the moisture from the glass, and in taking the observations no correction was ever applied for the alteration of level in the mercury of the cistern, or for the change of den- sity iu the metal from variations of temperature. With respect to the thermometers, no care had beeu taken to secure correct graduation. The Society had never possessed a vane ; it learned the course of the winds from a neighbouring weathercock. The rain-gauge, the elevation of which was stated with ostentatious precision, was placed immediately below a chimney, in the centre of one of the smokiest parts of London, and it was joart of the duty of the Society's clerk ever and anon to pass a wire up the funnel to clear it of soot. To complain, after this, that the water was left to collect for weeks and months before it was measured, ' would,' says Mr Daniell, ' be comparatively insignificant criticism.' DISCOVERY OF THE PLANET URANUS. The astronomical labours of the self-taught genius William Herschel at Slough, under shadow of the patronage of George III., and his addition of a first-class planet to the short list which had remained unextended from the earliest ages, were amongst the matters of familiar in- terest which formed conversation in the days of our fathers. It was on the evening of the 13th of March, 1781, that the patient German, while examining some small stars in the constellation Gemini, marked one that was new to him ; he applied different telescopes to it in turn, and found the results diff"erent from those observable with fixed stars. Was it a comet? He watched it night after night, with a view of solving this question ; and he soon found that the body was moving among the stars. He continued his observations 366 tiU the lOtli of April, when he communicated to the Eoyal Society an account of all he had yet ascertained concerning the strange visitor. The attention of astronomers both at home and abroad was excited ; and calculations were made to de- termine the orbit of the supposed comet. None of these calculations, however, accorded with the observed motion ; and there arose a further question, 'Is it a planet?' This question set the computers again at work ; and they soon agreed that a new planet really had been dis- covered in the heavens. It was at first supposed that the orbit was circular ; but Laplace, in 1783, demonstrated that, as in the case of all the other planets, it is elliptical. It then became duly recognised as the outermost of the members of the solar system, and so remained until the recent days when the planet Neptune was dis- covered. The discoverer, wishing to pay a com- pliment to the monarch who so liberally sup- ported him, gave the name of the Geoi-r/ium Sidus, or Georgian Star, to the new planet ; other English astronomers, wishing to compliment the discoverer himself, suggested the name of Herschel ; but Continental astronomers proposed that the old mythological system should be fol- lowed ; and this plan was adopted, the name Uranus, suggested by Bode, being now accepted by all the scientific world as a designation for the seventh planet. WEATHER NOTIONS. Amongst weather notions one of the most prevalent is that which represents the moon as exercising a great influence. It is supposed that upon the time of day at which the moon changes depends the character of the weather during the whole of the ensuing mouth ; and we usually hear the venerable name of Sir William Herschel adduced as authorising this notion. Foster, in his Perennial Calendar, transfers from the European Marjazine what he calls an ex- cellent table of the prospective weather, founded on ' a philosoi^hical consideration of the attraction of the sun and moon in their several positions respecting the earth.' Modern science in reality rejects all these ideas as vain delusions ; witness the following letter written by the late ingenious professor of astronomy in the university of Glasgow, in answer to a gentleman who Avrote to him, making inquiries upon this subject. 'Observatory, Jidy 5, 1856.^ — Dear Sir, I am in receipt of your letter regarding the sui^posed influence of the moon on the weather. You are altogether correct. No relation e.rists between these classes of 2)henoviena. The question has been tested and decided over and over again by the discussion of long and reliable meteorological tables ; nor do I know any other positive way of testing any such point. I coirfess I cannot account for the origin of the pre- valent belief. J. P. Nichol.' Admiral Fitzroy, through the publications au- thorized by the Board of Trade, has stated such of the observations of common weather wisdom as may be depended upon. The old remark about a ruddy evening and a grey morning (alluded to in the gospel of Matthew) as indicating good weather, meets full apj^roval ; as also tliat a red sky in the morning foretells bad weather, or much rain, if not wind. The Admiral adds, that a high dawn denotes wind, and a low dawn fair weather. When clouds have a soft and delicate SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHEE. MAECH 14. JOHN ETTSSELL. ajipearance, fair weather may be looked for; when they are hard and ragged, wind is to be expected. ' Misty clouds forming or hanging on heights show ■wind and rain coming, if they remain or descend. If they rise or disperse, the weather will improve, or become fine. 'When sea-birds fly out early and far to seaward, moderate wind and fair weather may be expected. "When they hang about the land or over it, some- times flying inland, expect a strong wind, with stormy weathei-. When bu'ds of long flight, such_ as swallows, hang about home, and fly low, rain or wind may be expected ; also when pigs carry straw to theii- sties, and when smoke from chimneys does not ascend readily. ' Dew is an indication of fine weather ; so is fog. Remarkable clearness of atmosphere near the horizon, distant objects, such as hills unusually visible or raised by refraction; what is called a good hearing day ; may be mentioned among signs of wet, if not wind, to be expected. ' SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER. By Dr Jenner. The hollow ivinds begin to blow ; The clouds look black, the glass is low ; The sootfcdls doivn, the spaniels sleep ; And spiders from their cobwebs j^eep. Last night the sun went jMle to bed ; The moon in halos hid her head. The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For, see, a rainboio sj^ans the sky. The ivalls are damp, the ditches smell, Clos\l is the pink-ey'd jmnpernel. Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack, Old Betty's joints are on the rack : Her corns with shooting pairis torment her. And to her bed imtimely sent her. Loud quack the ducks, the sea fowl cry, The distant hills are looking nigh. How restless are the snorting swine ! The busy files disturb the kine. Low o'er the grass the swallow wings. The cricket, too, how sliarp he sings ! Puss on the hearth, ■with vehet paws. Sits wiping o'er her ivhisker'd jaws . The smoke from chimneys right ascends. Then sjireading, back to earth it bends. The wind unsteady veers around. Or settling in the South is fou nd. Through the cleai' stream the fishes rise, Ajid nimbly catch the incautious jZi'es. The gloio worms num'rous, clear and bright, Illum'd the deunj hill last night. At dusk the squahd toad was seen. Like ipiadruped, stalk o'er the green. The wliirling wind the dust obeys. And in the rapid eddy plays. The /ro^ has chang'd his yellow vest. And in a russet coat is drest. The sky is green, the air is still, The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. The dog, so alter'd in his taste. Quits mutton-bones, on grass to feast. Behold the rooks, how odd their flight. They imitate the gliding kite. And seem precipitate to fall. As if they felt the piercing ball. The tender colts on back do lie. Nor heed the traveller passing by. In fiery red the sun doth rise. Then wades through clouds to mount the slues. 'TwUl surely rain, we see't -with sorrow, No working in the fields to-morroiv. MARCH 14. St Acepsimas, bishop in Assyria, Joseph, and Aithi- lalias, martyrs, 380. St Boniface, bisliop of Ross, in Scotland, 630. St Maud, Queen of Germany, 968. Died. — John, Earl of Bedford, 1555 ; Simon Morin, burned, 1G63 ; Marshal-General Wade, 1751; Admiral John Byng, shot at Portsmouth, 1757 ; William Melmoth, accomplished scholar, 1799, Bath; Daines Barrington, antiquary, lawyer, and naturalist, 1800, Temple; Frederick Theophilus Klopstock, German poet, 1803, Ottensen ; George Papworth, architect and engineer, 1855. JOHN RUSSELL, FIRST EARL OF BEDFORD. The importance of the noble house of Bedford during the last three centuries may be traced to the admirable personal qualities of a mere private gentleman — ' a Mr Eussell '^n con- nection with a happy fortuitous occurrence. The gentleman here referred to was the eldest, or only son of James fiussell of Berwick, a manor-place in the county of Dorset, about a mile from the seacoast. He was, however, born at Kingston-Russell in the same county, where the elder branch of the family had resided from the time of the Conquest. At an early age he was sent abroad to travel, and to acquire a knowledge of the continental languages. He returned in 1506 an accomplished gentleman, and a good linguist, and took up his residence with his father at Berwick. Shortly after his arrival a violent tempest arose, and on the next morning, 11th January, 1506, three foreign vessels appeared on the Dorset coast making their way for the port of Weymouth. Informa- tion being given to the Governor, Sir Thomas Trenchard, he repaired to the coast with a body of men prepared to meet the vessels whether belonging to friends or foes. On reaching the harbour tliey were found to be part of a con- voy under the command of Philip, Archduke of Austria, and only son of Maximilian I., Emperor of Germany. This young prince had just married Johanna, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, King and Queen of Castile and Arragon, and was on his way to Spain when overtaken by the storm which had separated the vessel in which he was sailing- and two others from the rest of the convoy, and had forced them to take shelter in Weymouth Harbour. Sir Thomas Trenchard immediately conducted the Archduke to his own castle, and sent messen- gers to apprize the King, Henry the Seventh, of his arrival. While waiting for the King's reply. Sir Thomas invited his cousin and neighbour, young Mr Eussell of Berwick, to act as inter- preter and converse with the Archduke on topics connected with his own country, through which Mr Kussell had lately travelled. ' " It is an ill wind," says Fuller, referring to this incident, " that blows nobody profit : " so this accident (of the storm) proved the foundation of Mr Kussell's preferment.' For the Archduke was so delighted with his varied knowledge and courteous bearing, that, on deciding to proceed at onco to Windsor, he requested Mr Kussell to accompany him, and 367 JOICN BTJSSELL. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN EIJSSELL. when they arrived tliere, he recommended him sohij;hly"to tlie TCiuii's notice, that he granted him an "immediate interview. Henry was ex- tremely struck with Mr Eussell'.s conversation and appearance : ' for,' says Lloyd, ' he had a moving beauty that waited on his whole body, a comportment unall'ected, and such a comeliness in his mien, as exacted a liking, if not a love, from all that saw him ; the whole set off witli a person of a middle stature, neither tall to a f'or- midableuess, nor short to a contempt, straight and proportioned, vigorous and active, with pure blood and spirits flowing in his youthful veins.' Mr Kussell was forthwith appointed a gentleman of the Privy Chamber. Three j-ears afterwards, Henry VIII. ascended the throne, and was not slow to perceive Mr Eussell's great and varied talents. He employed him in important posts of trust and difficulty, and found him an able and faithful diplomatist on every occasion. Consequently he rewarded him with immense grants of lands, — chiefly from the dissolved monasteries, — and loaded him with honours. He was knighted ; was installed into the Order of the Garter, and was raised to the peerage as Baron Kussell of Chenies. He was made Marshal of Marshalsea ; Controller of the King's Household ; a Privy Councillor ; Lord Warden of the Stannaries in the counties of Devon and Cornwall ; President of these coun- ties and of those of Dorset and Somerset ; Lord Privj'-Seal ; Lord Admiral of England and Ireland ; and Captain-General of the Vanguard in the Army. Lastljs the King, on his death-bed, appointed Lord Eussell, who was then his Lord Privy-Seal, to be one of the counsellors to his son, Prince Edward. On Edward VI. ascending the throne. Lord Kussell still retained his posi- tion and influence at Court. On the day of the coronation he was Lord High Steward of England for the occasion, and soon afterwards employed by the young Protestant king to promote the objects of the Eeformation, which he did so effectually that, as a reward, he was created Earl of Bedford, aud endowed with the rich abbey of Woburn, which soon afterwards became, as it still continues to be, the principal seat of the family. On the accession of the Catholic Mary, though Lord Bussell had so zealously promoted the lie- formation, and shared so largely in the property of the suppressed monasteries, yet he was almost immediately received into the royal favour, and re-appointed Lord Privy-Seal. Within the same year he was one of the noble- men commissioned to escort Philip from Spain to become the Queen's husband, aud to give away her Majesty at the celebration of her marriage. This was his last public act. And it is remarkaljle that as Philip, the Archduke of Austria, first introduced him to Court, so that Duke's grand- son, Philip of Spain, was the cause of his last attendance there. It was more remarkable that he was able to pursue a steady upward course through those great national convulsions which shook alike the altar and the throne ; and to give satisfaction to four successive sovereigns, each differing widely from the other in age, in disposition, and in policy. From the wary 368 Henry VII., and his capricious and arbitrary son ; from the Protestant Edward and the Ivomanist ]Mary, he equally received unmistake- able evidences of favour and approbation. But the most remarkable, and the most gratifying fact of all is, that he appears to have preserved an integrity of character through the whole of his extraordinary and perilous career. There is nothing in his correspondence, or in any early notice of him that betrays the character of a time-serving courtier. The true cause of his continuing in favour doubtless lay in his natural urbanity, his fidelit}', and, perhaps, espe- cially in that skill and experience in diplomacy which made his services so valuable, if not essen- tial, to the reigning sovereign. He died, ' full of years as of honours,' on the 14th of March, 1555, and was buried at Chenies, in Bucks, the manor of which he had acquired liy his marriage. The countess, who survived him only three years, built for his remains a large vault and sepulchral chapel adjoining the parish church; and a magnificent altar tomb, bear- ing their effigies in life-size, was erected to com- memorate them by their eldest son, Francis, second Earl of Bedford. The chapel, which has ever since been the family burial-place, now contains a fine series of monuments, all of a costly description, ranging from the date of the Earl's death to the present century ; and the vault below contains between fifty and sixty members of the Eussell family or their alliances. The last deposited in it was the seventh Duke of Bedford, who died 14th May, 1861.* The Earl of Bedford, when simply Sir John Kussell, was frequently sent abroad both on friendly and hostile expeditions, and had many narrow escapes of life. On one occasion, after riding by night and day through rough and circuitous roads to avoid detachments of the enemy, he came to a small town, and rested at an obscure inn, where he thought he might with safety refresh himself and his horse. But before he could begin the repast which had been prepared for him, he was informed that a body of the enemy, who were in pursuit of him, were ap- proaching the town. He sprang on his horse, and without tasting food, rode oft" at full speed, and only just succeeded in leaving the town at one end while his pursuers entered it at the other. On another occasion the hotel in which he was staying was suddenly surrounded by a body of men who were commissioned to take him alive and send him a captive to France. From this danger he was rescued by Thomas Cromwell, who passed himself off to the authorities as a Neapo- litan acquaintance of Eussell's, and promised that if they would give him access to him, he would induce him to yield himself up to them without resistance. This adventure was intro- duced into a tragedy entitled The Life and Death of Thomas, Lord Croiuwell, which is supposed to have been written by Hey wood, in the reign of Elizabeth ; and from which the following is a brief extract : * See WifTen's'il/emoi/-5 of the Ilonse of Russell, vol. i.; Diigdale's Baronetage, vol. ii. ; Ilutcliin's History of Dorset, vol. ii.; Collins' Pcerarje, vol. i. JOHN BCSSELL. MAECH 14 DEATH OF ADMIEAL EYNG. ' Bonoma. A Eoom in cm Hotel clhnded by a cur- tain. Enter Sir John Russell and the Host. Russell. Ain I betrayed ? Was Russell born to die By such base slaves, in such a place as this ? Have I escaped so many times in France, So many battles have I overpassed. And made the French scour when they heard my name. And am I now betrayed unto my death ? Some of their hearts' blood first shall pay for it. Host. They do desire, my lord, to speak with you. Russell. The traitors do desire to have my blood ; But by my birth, my honour, and my name. By all my hopes, my life shall cost them dear ! Open the door ! I'll ventui-e out iipou them ; And if I must die, then I'll die with honour. Host. Alas, my lord, that is a despert course ; — They have begirt you round about the house : Their meaning is, to take you prisoner, And to send your body unto Fi-ance. Russell. First shall the ocean be as diy as sand. Before alive they send me unto France. I'll have my body first bored like a sieve. And die as Hector 'gainst the Myrmidons, Ere France shall boast Russell 's their prisoner ! Perfidious France ! that 'gainst the law of arms Hast thus betrayed thine enemy to death : But, be assured, my blood shall be revenged Upon the best lives that remain in France. ' Cromwell, under the guise of a Neapolitan, enters with, his servant, dismisses the Host, reveals kimself to Eussell as the sou of his Farrier at Putney ; says he is come to rescue him, and persuades him to exchange garments with his servant. The exchange effected, Eussell says : ' How dost thou like us, Cromwell ? Is it well ? Cromwell. excellent ! Hodge, how dost thou feel thyself ? Hodge. How do I feel myself ? Whj^, as a noble- man should do. 0, how I feel honour come creeping on ! ^ly nobUity is M'onderf id melancholy. Is it not most gentlemanhke to be melancholy ? Russdl. Ay, Hodge. Now go sit down in my study, and take state upon thee. Hodge. I warrant you, my lord ; let me alone to take state upon me.' Cromwell and Sir John Eussell pass through the soldiers unmolested, and reach Mantua in safety, from whence Sir John proceeded to Eng- land without further interruption. He recom- mended Cromwell to Wolsey, and thus was the cause of his subsequent greatness. MARSHAL WADE. Field-Marshal George Wade died at the age of eighty, possessed of above £100,000. In the coui'se of a military life of fifty-eight years, his most remarkable, though not his highest service was the command of the forces in Scotland in 1721, and subsequent years, during which he superintended the construction of those roads which led to the gradual civilization of the Highlands. ' Had you seen those roads before they were made. You'd have lifted up your hands and blessed General Wade,' sung an Irish ensign in quarters at Fort William, referring in reality to the tracks which had previously existed on the same lines, and 24 which are roads in all respects but that of being made, i. e. regularly constructed ; and, doubtless, it was a work for which the general deserved infinite benedictions. Wade had also much to do in counteracting and doing away with the Jacobite predilections of the Highland clans ; in which kind of business it is admitted that he acted a humane and liberal part. He did not so much force, as reason tlie people out of their prejudices. The general commenced his Highland roads in 1726, employing five hundred soldiers in the work, at sixpence a-day of extra pay, and it was well advanced in the three ensuing years. He himself employed, in his surveys, an English coach, which was everywhere, even at Inverness, the first vehicle of the kind ever seen ; and great was the wonder which it excited among the people, who invariably took off their bonnets to the driver, as supposing him the greatest personage connected with it. When the men had any extra hard work, the general slaughtered an ox and gave them a feast, with something liquid wherewith to drink the king's health. On com- pleting the great line liy Drumuachter, in September 1729, he held high festival with his highwapnen, as he called them, at a spot near Dalnaspidal, opposite the opening of Locli Garry, along with a number of officers and gentlemen, six oxen and four ankers of brandy being con- sumed on the occasion.* Walpole relates that General Wade was at a low gaming house, and had a very fine snuff-box, which on a sudden he missed. Everybody denied having taken it, and he insisted on searching the company. He did; there remained only one man who stood behind him, and refused to be searched unless the general would go into another room alone with him. There the man told him that he was born a gentleman, was reduced, and lived by what little bets he could pick up there, and by fragments which the waiters sometimes gave him. ' At this moment I have half a fowl in my pocket. I was afraid of being exposed. Here it is ! Now, sir, you may search me.' Wade was so affected, that he gave the man a hundred pounds ; and ' immediately the genius of gene- rosity, whose province is almost a sinecure, was very glad of the opportunity of making him find his own snuff-box, or another very like it, in his own pocket again.' DEATH OF ADMIRAL BYXG. The execution of Admiral Byng for not doing the utmost with his fleet for the relief of Port Mahon, in May 1756, Avas one of the events of the last century which made the greatest im- pression on the popular mind. The account of his death in Voltaire's Candide, is an exquisite bit of French epigrammatic writing : ' Talking thus, we approached Portsmouth. A multitude of people covered the shore, looking attentively at a stout gentleman who was on his knees with his eyes bandaged, on the quarter- deck of one of the vessels of the fleet. Four soldiers, placed in front of him, put each three balls in his head, in the most peaceable manner, * Domestic Annals of Scotland, by R, Chambers, iii. 526, 561 369 OLD SARUir. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD SARUM. and all the assembly then dispersed quite satis- fied. " What is all this ?" quoth Cain/ide, " and ■what devil reigns here ?" He asked who Avas the stout gentleman who came to die in this ceremo- nious manner. " It is an Admiral," they answered. "And why kill the Admiral?" '"It is because he has not killed enough of other people. He had to give battle to a French Admiral, and they iind that ho did not go near enough to him." " But," said Candide, " the French Admiral was as far from him as he was from the French Admiral." " That is very true," replied they ; " but in this country it is useful to kill an Admiral now and then, just to encourage the rest \j)Our encourager les autres'].'" THE KEFORM ACT OF 1831-2 : OLD SARUM. The 14th of March 1831 is a remarkable day in English history, as that on which the cele- brated bill for parliamentary reform was read for the first time in the House of Commons. The changes proposed in this bill were sweeping beyond the expectations of the most sanguine, and caused many advocates of reform to hesitate. So eagerly, however, did the great body of the people lay hold of the plan — demanding, accord- ing to a phrase of Mr liintoul of the Spectator newspaper, the ' Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the Bill,' — that it was found impossible for all the conservative influences of the country, including latterly that of royalty itself, to stay, or greatly alter the measure. It took fourteen months of incessant struggle to get the bill passed ; but no sooner was the contest at an end ilian a conservative reaction set in, falsifying alike many of the hopes and fears with which the measure had been regarded. The nation calndy resumed its ordinary aplomh, and moderate thinkers saw only occasion for congratulation that so many perilous anomalies had been re- moved from our system of representation. Amongst these anomalies there was none which the conservative party felt it more difficult to defend, than the fact that at least two of the boroughs possessing the right of returning two members, were devoid of inhabitants, namely Gatton and Old Sarum. ' Gatton and Old Sarum' were of course a sort of tour deforce in the hands of the reforming party, and the very names became indelibly fixed in the minds of that generation. With many Old Sarum thus acquired a ridiculous association of ideas, Avho little knew that, in reality, the attributes of the place were calculated to raise sentiments of a beautiful and afiecting kind. Old Sarum, situated a mile and a half north of Salisbury — now a mere assemblage of green mounds and ti'enches — is generally regarded as the Sorbioduuum of the Homans. Its name, derived from the Celtic words, sorbio, dry, and dim, a fortress, leads to the conclusion that it was a British post : it was, perhaps, one of the towns taken by Vespasian, when he was engaged in the subjugation of this part of the island under the Emperor Claudius. A number of Boman roads meet at Old Sarum, and it is mentioned in OLD SAKUM. the Antonine Itinerari/, thus shewing the place to have been occupied by the Bomans, though, it must be admitted, the remains present little resemblance to the usual form of their posts. In the Saxon times, Sarum is frequently noticed by 370 historians ; and under the Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Norman princes, councils, ecclesiastical and civil, were held here, and the town became the seat of a bishopric. There was a castle or fortress, which is mentioned as early as the time OLD SAEUM. MAECH 14. THE GEEYBEAED, of Alfred, and wHch may be regarded as the citadel. The city was defended by a wall, within the enclosure of which the cathedral stood. Early in the thirteenth century, the cathedral was removed to its present site ; many or most of the citizens also removed, and the rise of New Sarum, or Salisbury, led to the decay of the older place ; so that, in the time of Leland (six- teenth century), there was not one inhabited house in it. The earthworks of the ancient city are very conspicuous, and traces of the founda- tion of the cathedral were observed about thirty years ago. Mr Constable, H.A., was so struck with the desolation of the site, and its lonely grandeur, that he painted a beautiful picture of the scene, which was ably engraved by Lucas. The plate was accompanied with letter-press, of which the following are jjassages : ' This sub- ject, which seems to embody the words of the poet, " Paint me a desolation," is one with which the grander phenomena of nature best accord. Sudden and abrupt appearances of light — thun- der-clouds — wild autumnal evenings — solemn and shadowy twilights, " flinging half an image on the straining sight" — with variously tinted clouds, dark, cold, and grey, or ruddy bright — even conflicts of the elements heighten, if possible, the sentiment which belongs to it. ' The present appearance of Old Sai'um, wild, desolate, and dreary, contrasts strongly with its former splendour. This celebrated city, which once gave laws to the whole kingdom, and where the earliest parliaments on record were convened, can only now be traced by vast embankments and ditches, tracked only by sheep-walks. " The plough has passed over it." In this city, the wily Conqueror, in 1086, confirmed that great political event, the establishment of the feudal system, and enjoined the allegiance of the nobles. Several succeeding monarchs held their courts here ; and it too often screened them after their depredations on the people. In the days of chivalry, it poured forth its Longspear and other valiant knights over Palestine. It was the seat of the ecclesiastical government, when the pious Osmond and the succeeding bishops diffused the blessings of religion over the western kingdom : thus it became the chief resort of ecclesiastics and warriors, till their feuds and mutual animo- sities, caused by the insults of the soldiery, at length occasioned the separation of the clergy, and the removal of the Cathedral from within its walls, which took place in 1227. Many of the most pious and peaceable of the inhabitants fol- lowed it, and in less than half a century after the completion of the new church, the building of the bridge over the river Harnham diverted the great western road, and turned it through the new city. This last step was the cause of the desertion and gradual decay of Old Sarum.' SMITHFIELD MARTYRS' ASHES. Fanaticism sent many Protestants to the stake at Smithficld in tlic time of Queen Mary. The place of their suffering is supposed to have been on the soutli-east side of the open area, for old engravings still extant represent some of the buildings known to have existed on that side, as backing the scene of the burnings. Ashes and bones have more than once been found, during excavations in that spot ; and it has long been surmised that those were part of the remaius of the poor martyrs. A discovery of this kind occurred on the 14th March 1849. Excavations were in progress on that day, connected with the construction of a new sewer, near St Bartholo- mew's church. At a depth of about three feet beneath the surface, the woi'kmen came upon a heap of unhewn stones, blackened as if by fire, and covered with ashes and human bones, charred and partially consumed. One of the city anti- quaries collected some of the bones, and carried them away as a memorial of a time which has happily passed. If there had only been a few bones present, their position might possibly be explained in some other way ; and so might a heap of fire-blackened stones ; but the juxta- position of the two certainly gives the received hypothesis a fair share of probability. THE GREYBEAED, OR BELLARMINE, The manufacture of a coarse strong pottery, known as ' stoneware,' from its power of Avith- standing fracture and endui'ance of heat, origi- nated in the Low Countries in the early pai't of the sixteenth century. The people of Holland particularly excelled in the trade, and the pro- ductions of the town of Delft were known all over Christendom. During the religious feuds which raged so horribly in Holland, the Protest- ant party originated a design for a drinking jug, in ridicule of their great opponent, the famed Cardinal Bellarmine, who had been sent into the Low Countries to oppose in person, and by his pen, the progress of the Eeformed religion. He is described as ' short and hard-featured,' and thus he was typified in the corpulent beer-jug here delineated. To make the resemblance greater, the Cardinal's face, with the great square- cut board then peculiar to ecclesiastics, and termed ' the cathedral beard,' was placed in front 371 THE GREYBEARD. THE BOOK OF DAYS. LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. of the jug, which -was as often called ' a grey- beard ' as it Avas ' a BcUarmine.' It was so popular as to be inanufnctiired by thousands, in all sizes and qualities of cheapness ; sometimes the face was delinealed in the rudest and fiercest style. It met with a large sale in England, and many fragments of tliese jugs of the reign of Elizabeth and James I. have been exhumed in London. The writers of tliat era very frequenlly allude to it. Bulwer. in his Artificial ChanijcHncf, 105;}, says of a formal doctor, that ' the fashion of his beard was just, for all tlie world, like those upon Flemish jugs, bearing in gross the form of a In-oom, narrow above and broad beneath.' Ben Jonson, in Bavtholnmcw Fair, says of a drunkard, ' T/ie man n-ith the heard has almost struck up his heels.' But the best description is the following in Cartwright's play, The Ordinary, 1651 : ' Thou thing! Thy belly looks like to some strutting hill, O'ershadowed with thy rough beard like a wood; Or like a larger jug, that some men call A Bellarmine, but we a conscience, "Whereon the tender hand of pagan workman Over the proud ambitions head hath carved An idol lai-ge, Viith. beard episcopal, ]\Iaking the vessel look like tyrant Eglon ! ' The term Greybeard is still applied in Scot- land to this kind of stoneware jug, though the face of Bellarmine no longer adorns it. A story connected with Greybeards was taken down a few years ago from the conversation of a vener- able prelate of the Scottish Episcopal church ; and though it has appeared before in a popular publication, we yield to the temptation of bi'ing- ing it before the readers of the Book of Dats : About 1770, there flourished a Mrs Balfour of Denbog, in the county of Fife. The nearest neighbour of Denbog was a Mr David Paterson, who had the character of being a good deal of a humorist. One day when Paterson called, he found Mrs Balfour engaged in one of her half- yearly brewings, it being the custom in those days each March and October to make as much ale as would serve for the ensuing six months. She was in a great pother about bottles, her stock of which fell far short of the number re- c[uired, and she asked Mr Paterson if ho could lend her any. ' No,' said Paterson, ' but I think I could bring you a few Greybeards that would hold a good deal ; perhaps that would do.' The lady assented, and appointed a day when he should come again, and bring his Greybeards with him. On the proper day, Mr Paterson made his appearance in Mrs Balfour's little parlour. ' Well, Mr Paterson, have you brought your Greybeards ? ' 'Oh yes. They're down stairs waiting for you.' ' How many ? ' ' Nae less than ten.' ' Well, I hope they're pretty large, for really I find I have a good deal more ale than I have bottles for.' ' I'se warrant ye, mem, ilk ane o' them will hold twa gallons.' ' Oh, that will do extremely well.' Down goes the lady. 372 ' I left them in the dining-room,' said Paterson. AVluui tlu> lady went in, she found ten of the most bibidous old lairds of the north of Fife. She at once perceived the joke, and entered into it. After a hearty laugh had gone round, she said slie thought it would be as well to have dinner before tilling the greybeards ; and it was accordingly arranged that the gentlemen should take a ramble, and come in to dinner at two o'clock. The extra ale is understood to have been duly disposed of. MARCH 15. St Abraham, hermit of Mesopotamia, and his niece, St Mary, 4tli century. St Zacbary, Pope, 752. St Leo- critia, of Cordova, virgin, martyr, 859. LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. One would suppose that tlie mediaeval legend- aries were very hard-set for saints, if we judge by the strange names which are sometimes intro- duced in their lists. A very slight ground was sufBcient for building a legend, as may be instanced by a saint who, in the old calendars, especially the English and German calendars, was com- memorated on this day. The Evangelists St Matthew and St Mark, describing the cruci- fixion, tell us that a centurion who was on guard saw the signs which attended the death of the Saviour, and became converted, and exclaimed, ' Truly this man was the Son of God ; ' and St John adds how, while Christ still remained on the cross, ' one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came thereout lolood and water.' The medieeval ecclesiastics made one individual of these two persons, and gave him the name of Longinus, more usually written in mediaval French, Longinas or Lon- gis, and in old English Longeus, under which he was one of the most popular personages of medi- SDval legend. He was said to liave been blind (how a blind man came to be made a centurion is not quite clear) ; when ordered by Pontius Pilate to pierce our Saviour's side with his spear, the blood, according to the story, ran down into his eyes, and restored him miraculously to sight, w'hich was partly the cause of his conversion to Christianity. He now associated with the Apos- tles, becoming an active ' soldier of the faith,' and distinguishing himself by the fervency of his zeal. He was thus, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, living at Ca?sarea of Cappadocia, when information of his behaviour Avas carried to the prefect or governor, Octavius, who immediately summoned him to his presence. When questioned, Longinus told the prefect his name, said that he Avas a Eoman soldier, of the province of Isauria, and acknowledged that he was a zealous follower of Christ. After some discussion on the relative merits of Christianity and paganism, Longinus was commanded to worship the idols, and eat of the sacrifice offered to them, but he refused ; whereupon the tormentors or executioners {qucestionarii) were ordered to cut off his tongue LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. MAECH 15. JEAN BAKBEYHAC. and knock out liis teeth, lie long bears this and other outrages with great fortitude ; but at length he proposes a curious sort of compromise, to which Octavius consents. It had been shewn, said Longinus, how little all the torments of the f)agans aiiected him, but now, if he might have eave, he would undertake to break all their idols and overcome their gods, it being made a condi- tion that, if he were successful, the pagans should desert their idols, and believe in the true God; but if their gods were able to do him any injury, he wovdd become a pagan. Longinus immediately ' broke to pieces the idol, overthrew his altars and all his marble statues, and spilt all the offerings,' and the devils who dwelt in them fled, but they were arrested by Longinus, who chose to obtain some information from them. The demons acknowledged that his was the greatest God. He asked them further how they came to dwell in the idols, and thej' said that they came to seek comfortable places of refuge, and, finding beau- tiful images of stone, on which the name of Christ had not been invoked, nor the sign of the cross made, they immediately took possession of them, as well as of the people of tlie neighbour- hood, who were equally unprotected; and now that he had driven them out, they supplicated him to let them go where they would, and begged not to be ' precipitated into the abyss.' This is a very curious illustration of the mediteval notion of the nature of the heathen idols. When the citizens heard this revelation, they set up a great shout of joy, and, as soon as the devils were driven out of them, they all embraced the Chris- tian faith. This, however, did not save the saint from martyrdom ; for Octavius, terrified lest the emperor should punish him and the city for its apostasy from the imperial faith, caused the head of Longinus to be cut off", and then repented, and became a Christian himself. ' These things,' says the legend, ' were acted in the city of Casarea of Cappadocia, on the Ides of March, under Octa- vius the prefect.' The legend is found in medi- aeval manuscripts in Latin and in other lan- guages. Born. — Tlieopliilus Bouet, eminent Genevese physician, 1G20; Jean Barbeyrac, eminent jurist, 1G74, Beziers ; General Andrew Jackson, 1767. Died. — Julius Caesar, assassinated, B.C. 44, Borne ; Thomas Lord Chancellor Egerton, 1617, Dodkstori, Cheshire ; Sir Theodore Mayerne, physician to James 1. and Charles I., 1655, Chelsea; John Earl of Loudon, Chancellor of Scotland, 1663 ; the Rev. Dr Thomas Franklin, eminent Greek scholar, 1784, London; Admiral John Jervis, Earl St Vincent, 182.3, Stone ; John Listen, comic actor, 1846; Otto Kotzebue, navi- gator, 1846 ; Cardinal l\Iezzofanti, extraordinary linguist, 1849; Ciiptain Sir i;arauel Brown, civil engineer, 1852. JEAN BARBEYRAC. The circumstances under which the ideas were developed, that led to the production of noted works in literature or art, would, if it were pos- Fil)le to collect them, form a remarkable history, aflbrding strange illustrations of the multifarious phases presented by the human mind. Fancy, for instance, a learned professor and doctor of jurisprudence, compelled by fate to reside with a gambling mother-in-law, and to sit for hours listening to the wearisome conversation of a party of old women playing at cards ; and yet improving the occasion, by mentally laying the foundation of the most elaborate work on gaming that ever has been written. These were exactly the circumstances which gave origin to Barbey- rac's celebrated Traite de Jeu. Barbeyrac was a native of France ; but, being a Calvinist, was compelled by the revocation of the edict of JS'antes to take refuge in Switzer- land. He became professor of law at Lausanne, and subsequently at Groningen ; and published many works on jurisprudence, besides a transla- tion of Tillotson's Sermons. But the work on which his reputation is founded, and by which he is known at the present day, is his treatise on gaming, dedicated to Ann Princess of Orange, eldest daughter of George II., the text-book for all who wish to study the subject. The Traite de Jeu abounds in the most recon- dite learning. The first of its four books con- tains arguments to prove that gaming is not inconsistent with natural laws, morality, or religion. In the second book the author applies these arguments specifically to the various kinds of games that have been played at dif- ferent periods in the history of the world. The third book states the limitations under which the previous arguments are to be considered ; and the fourth enumerates the various abuses of gaming. Finally, he comes to the rather start- ling conclusion that gambling is not in itself immoral or illegal, and that it is nowhere, directly or indirectly, forbidden in the Holy Scriptures. Barbeyrac starts with the undeniable proposi- tion that man is essentially a worker, his whole existence depending upon labour ; conseqiiently God had designed that man should be employed in works of iisefulness for himself and others. But, as man cannot work without rest, food, and relaxation, the Deity had expressly sanctioned all those requirements, by the mere act of creating man a working animal — the evil con- sisting in the abuse, not in the use of those indispensable requisites. ' There are persons, however,' says Barbeyrac, ' who unreasonably suppose that use and abuse cannot be separated ; and who, forming to themselves strange mystical notions of virtue and piety, would persuade us that every kind of diversion and amusement, being neither more nor less than the consequences of man's fallen nature, is unworthy of rational creatures. Such persons may be above the common limits of human na- ture, in a sphere of perfection unattainable by the great mass of mankind. Still, they ought to allow those, who cannot arrive at such a high degree of perfection, to follow in low humility the path which nature and providence have pointed out to them, to enjoy their opinions in peace, and their consciences devoid of scruple.' ' I maintain,' he continues, ' as an irrefragable principle, that, for the sake of relaxation, man may indulge in such amusements as are free from vice. This being admitted, if a person takes pleasure in playing at cards or dice, there is no reason why he may not amuse himself in that manner, quite as innocently as in painting, 373 JEAN BAEBEYEAC. THE BOOK OF DAYS. SIE THEODOEE MATEENE. dancing, music, hunting, or any otlier similar diversions. The question then arises, whether the game bo played for nothing, or for a stake of vahie. In the first case, it is a mere relaxation, bearing not the slightest semblance of crimi- nality; with regard to the second, there can be no evil in it, looking at the matter generally, without taking into consideration peculiar cir- cumstances. For. if I am at liberty to promise and give my property, absolutely and uncondi- tionally, to whomsoever I please, why may I not promise and give a certain sum, in the event of a person proving more fortunate or more skilful than I, with respect to the result of certain con- tingencies, movements, or combinations, on which we had previoiisl}^ agreed ? And why may not this person honestly avail himself of the result, either of his skill, or of a favourable concurrence of fortuitous circumstances, on the issue of which I had voluntarily contracted an obligation ? And though but one of the parties gains an advantage, yet there is nothing contrary to strict equity in the transaction, the terms having been previously agreed on by both. Every person, being at liberty to determine the con- ditions on which he will concede a right to another, may make it dependent on the most chance circumstances. A fortiori, then, a per- son may fairly and honestly avail himself of these winnings, when he has risked on the event as much as he was likely to gain. In fact, gaming is a contract, and in every contract the mutual consent of the parties is the supreme law ; this is an incontestable maxim of natural ecjuity.' 3Iany of Barbeyrac's arguments and quota- tions are taken from our old Puritan writers, who admitted that a kind of gambling, under the designation of lots, was sanctioned by the Scrip- tures ; though only to be used to decide matters connected with religion and the church. The able authoress of Silas Marner has shewn tis something of the working of this lot system, though it certainly is more a kind of divination than gambling. To conclude, Barbeyrac's arguments must be considered as a series of clever paradoxes, writ- ten by a learned philosopher unacquainted with the world and the manifold wickednesses of its ways. Though we may certainly employ our time better, there can be no great harm in a friendly game of whist or backgammon ; but the undeniable vice and folly of gambling has re- ceived and ever will receive the direct condemna- tion of all good men, able to form an opinion on the matter. SIR THEODORE MAYERNE. Collectors of heads, for siich is the ghastly phrase used by the cognoscenti to indicate en- graved portraits, fancy themselves fortimate when they can obtain a folio engraving, repre- senting a joUy -looking, well-kept individual, appa- rently of not more than sixty summers, hold- ing a skuU in the left hand, and bearing the fol- lowing inscription : ' Theodore Turquet de IVIayerne, knight, aged eighty-two years, by birth a Frenchman, by religion a Protestant ; in his profession a second 374. Hippocrates ; and what has seldom happened to any but himself, first physician to three kings ; in erudition unequalled, in experience second to none, and as the result of all these advantages, celebrated far and near.' If the inscription stated that Mayerne had been physician to four kings, it would be nearer the mark, for he really served in that capacity Henry IV. of France, James I., Charles I., and Charles II., of England. He was born at Geneva, in 1573, and named Theodore after his god- father, the celebrated reformer Beza. He studied at Montpelier, and soon after taking his degrees, received the appointment of physician to Henry IV. ; but, his profession of Protestant principles being a bar to his advancement in France, he came to England, and was warmly received by James the First. His position in the history of medical science is well defined, by his being among the earliest practitioners who applied chemistry to the preparing and compounding of medicines. His skill and celebrity enabled him to acqxiire a large fortune, and to live unmolested and respected during the terrible convulsions of the civil war. Though a noted hon vivant, he attained the advanced age of eighty-two years, dying in 1G55, at his own house in Chelsea, a favourite place of residence among the physicians of the olden time. The immediate cause of his death he attributed to drinking bad wine with a convivial party, at a tavern in the Strand. ' Good wine,' he used to say, ' is slow poison : I have drunk it all my lifetime, and it has not killed me yet ; but bad wine is sudden death.' In hours of relaxation, Mayerne applied his chemical knowledge to the improvement of the arts of painting and cookery, in both of which he was no mean proficient, as an amateur. The famous artist Petitot owed the perfection of his colouring in enamel to Mayerne's experiments, and the best cookery book of the period was written by the learned physician himself. Indeed it is not generally known how much cookery is indebted to medicine. Mayerne, in the seven- teenth, Hunter and Hill in the eighteenth, and Kitchiner in the nineteenth century, have given to the world the best cookery books of their respective eras. Indeed, in ancient times, cookery was specifically considered as an important branch of the healing art ; the word curare, among the Romans, signifying to dress a dinner, as well as to cure a disease. Mayerne's cookery- book bears the high sovmding title of Archi- mac/irus Anglo-Gallicus, and the following spe- cimen of its contents Avill testify that it well merited its appellation. The jolly physician often participated in the hospitalities of my Lord Mayor, and the great commercial guilds and companies ; so, as a fitting token of his gratitude, he named his cJief-cVosuvre, the first and principal recipe in his book, A City of London Tie. ' Take eight marrow bones, eighteen sparrows, one pound of potatoes, a quarter of a pound of eringoes, two ounces of lettuce stalks, forty chesnuts, half a pound of dates, a peck of oysters, a quarter of a j)Ound of preserved citron, three artichokes, twelve eggs, two sliced lemons, a MEZZOFANTl's ■WONDERFUL MEMOEY. MAECH 15. MEZZOFANTl's WONDEEFUL MEMOET. handful of pickled barberries, a quarter of an ounce of wliole pepper, half an ounce of sliced nutmeg, half an ounce of whole cinnamon, a quarter of an ounce of whole cloves, half an ounce of mace, and a quarter of a pound of currants. Liquor when it is baked, with white wine, butter, and sugar.' Some half-a-dozen years ago, with very slight alterations — only adopted after deep consultation, to suit the palates of the present day— a pie was made from the above recipe, which gave complete satisfaction to the party of connoisseurs in cuUnary matters, who heartily and merrily par- took of it. MEZZOFANTl's WONDERFUL MEMORY. This celebrated linguist, born at Bologna, in 1774, was the son of a carpenter, and was intended for the same occupation, had not a priest observed the re- markable mteUigence of the boy, and had him edu- cated for the priesthood, when he acquired, before the completion of his university career, the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, French, German, and Swedish languages. At the early age of twenty-two, he was appointed professor of Ai-abic in the univer- sity, and next of Oriental languages ; but thi'ough political changes, he lost both these appointments, and was for some years reduced to great distress. Meanwhile, Mezzofanti made his aU- engrossing pur- suit the study of languages. One of his modes of study was caUing upon strangers at the hotels of Bologna, interrogating them, making notes of tbeh communi- cations, and taking lessons in the pronunciation of their several languages. ' Nor did all this cost me much trouble,' says Mezzofanti ; 'for, in addition to an excellent memory, God had gifted me with re- markable flexibility of the organs of speech.' He was now reinstated in his appointments ; and his attain- ments grew protUgious. Mr Stewart Rose, in 1S17, reported him as reading twenty languages, and speak- ing eighteen. Baron Tach, in 1820, stated the num- ber at thirty-two. Lord Bja-on, about the same time, described him as ' a walking polyglot, a monster of languages, and a Briareus of parts of speech.' In 1831, he settled in Rome, accepted a prebend in the chm-ch of St Mary Major, which he exchanged for a canonry in St Peter's ; he was next appointed keeper of the Vatican hbrary, and in 1838 was elevated to the Cardinalate. Mezzofanti's residence at Rome gave a new impulse to his bnguistic studies. Herr Giudo Gcirres, the eminent German scholar, -writes of him, in 1841, ' He is familiar with aU tlie European languages ; and by this I understand not only the ancient classical tongues, and the modern ones of the first class, such as the Greek and Latin, or the Italian, French, Ger- man, Spanish, Portuguese, and Engbsh ; his know- ledge extends also to languages of the second class, viz., the Dutch, Danish, and Swedish, to the whole Sclavonic famdy, Russian, Polish, Bohemian, or Czechish, to the Servian, the Hungarian, the Turkish, and even to those of the third and fourth classes, the Irish, the Welsh, the WaUachian, the Albanian, the Bulgarian, and the lUyilan. Even the Romani of the Alps, and the Lettish, are not unknown to him ; nay, he has made himself acquainted with Lappish. He is master of the languages which fall within the Indo- Germanic family, the Sanscrit and Persian, theKoord- ish, the Georgian, the Armenian ; he is familiar with all the members of the Semitic family, the Hebrew, the Arabic, the Syriac, the Samaritan, the Chaldee, the Sabaic, nay, even with the Chinese, which he not only reads, but speaks. Among the Haraitic languages, he knows Coptic, Ethiopic, Abyssinian, Amharic, and Angolese.' He is described as invariably speaking in each language with the precision, and in most cases with the fluency of a native. His pronuncia- tion, his idiom, his vocabidary, were abke unexcep- tionable; even the familiar words of every-day life, and the delicate tiu-ns of conversational speech, were at his command. He was equally at home in the pure Parisian of the Faubourg St Germain and in the Provengal of Toulouse. He coidd accommodate him- self to the nide jargon of the Black Forest, or to the classic vocabulary of Dresden. Cardinal Wiseman, the friend of Mezzofanti, has thus spoken of his extraordinary power of acquiring and remembering a number of languages — that is, knowing them thoroughly, grammatically, and fa,mi- barly, — so as to speak each with its own accentuation, read it with facility and point, express himself tech- nically through its mediimi, and, above all, write a famihar note in it. Of this power, says Dr Wiseman, no one, perhaps, ever attained such pre-eminence in philology, and no one coidd have made a more noble use of the wonderf id gift entrusted to him to improve. His labom-s were in the prisons, in which he found confined natives of every habitable country — Croats, Bulgarians, WaUachians, Bohemians, Hungarians, Poles, Lithuanians. As may be supposed, in a pro- vincial city in Italy there was but small chance that any of these shoidd meet with priests of their own nation. Cardinal Mezzofanti was moved with a burn- ing deshe to converse with them and offer them the consolations of rebgion. He set himself to work, and in a few days was able to speak with them readily and fluently. Cases have been kno^vn of persons coming to this extraordinaiy man for confession, but speaking only some out-of-the-way language which debarred them from intercommunication with all priests within their reach. On such occasions Cardi- nal Mezzofanti would request a delay of three weeks, during which time he woidd so completely master the language, however dLfficidt, that he coidd apprehend the most minute particulars communicated to him. At the age of fifty he was thoroughly versed in fifty languages, and before his death the number he knew must have amoimted to seventy or eighty. Of these, it must he added, he was acquainted with_ aU the varieties of dialect, provincialisms, and patois. He would detect the particidar county in England from which a person came, or the province in France, and was conversant not only with the grammar, but with the literatiu-e of all those nations. By a Portuguese he was once, to his (Carcbnal Wiseman's) own know- ledge, taken for a coimtryman ; and on another occa- sion he was similarly mistaken for an Engbshman. He coidd wiite a note or an apology (perhaps, after all, the greatest test) without an error in form, lan- guage, style, or title of adckess of his correspondent, and°would tiun his sentences without ever losing sight of the little niceties, idioms, and peculiarities which form the distinctive characteristics of a language. His method of studying a language was to take the grammar and read it through, after which he was its master. He used to say he had never forgotten anything he bad ever read or heard. Cardinal Wise- man states that he one day met Mezzofanti hiu-rying away, as he said, to a Propaganda—' What are you going to do there?' 'To teach the Californians theu'lano-uage.' 'How did you learn CaUfornian ?' ' They taught me, but they had no grammar ; I have made a grammar, and now I am going to teach them to read and write if— {Lectures on the Phe- nomena of Memory, 1857.) Mezzofanti died on the 15th of March 1849 ; and was buried in the church of St Onofrio, beside the grave of Torquato Tasso. 1 375 CAPTAIN BROWN. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JUIilUS CiESAE. C.VrTAIN SIR SAMUEL BROWN. ^Many nations in past times sought to find how a bridge might so be constructed that the weiglit of the roadway, instead of resting xqwn arclu's of masoiny, or on a rigid ii'on or Avooden framework, might be supi)orted by tlie tension of ropes or cliaius. Jvireher described a bridge of chains which the Chinese constructed many centuries ago in their country. Turner, in his Account (if Bootan or BJtviaii in India, describes several very ingenious bridges devised by the natives for crossing the ravines which intersect that mountainous country. One is a bridge con- sisting of a number of iron chains supporting a matted phitform ; another is formed of two pa- rallel chains, around which creepers are loosely twisted, with planks for a roadway suspended ; while a third is formed of two rattan or osier ropes, encircled by a hoop of the same material : the passenger propelling liimself by sitting in the hoop, holding a rope in each hand, and making the hoop slide along. Some of the rude bridges constructed by the natives in South America, such as that at Taribita, consist each of a single rush rope, on which a kind of carriage is swung, and drawn along by another rope held by a person on the bank. At Apurima the natives have con- structed a bridge nearly 400 feet long, by 6 feet wide, by placing two bark ropes parallel, and interweaving cross-pieces of wood from one to the other. Of an actual iron suspension bridge, the first made iu Europe seems to have been one over the Tees near Middleton, constructed rather more than a century ago. Two chains were stretched in a nearly straight line, steadied by inclined ties from the banks below ; and the roadway (only a narrow path for foot-passengers) Avas supported immediately by the chains. In 181(5, a little bridge was constructed over Gala Water in Scotland, made chiefly of wire, at the orders of a manufacturer named Eichard Lees ; and another of similar kind was soon afterwards con- structed across the Tweed at King's Meadows, near Peebles, with a platform four feet wide resting on the wires. It was about that date, or a little earlier, that Captain Erown made an important advance in the construction of chain bridges, by changing altogether the form of the links. Instead of making them short and circular or oval, he made them several feet long, with eyes drilled at each end, and connecting them with short links and bolt-pieces. Every main link, iu fact, consisted of a series of flat bars, pivoted at the ends to each other and to the adjacent links. He also devised an ingenious mode of removing a defective link without dis- turbing the continuity of the chain. These two capital inventions laid the basis for the plans of most of the great suspension bridges since con- structed, including Brown's Bridge over the Tweed at Berwick, Brown's Trinity Pier at New- haven near Leith, Telford's beautiful Menai and Conway bridges. Brown's Chain-pier at Brighton, Tierney Clark's bridge at Hammersmith, Brown's bridge at Montrose, and the grandest suspension bridge, perhaps, ever constructed — that built by 376 Mr Tierney Clark over the Danube at Pcstli. It was no small merit in an engineer to render such works possible. JULIUS C^SAR. ' It is possible,' says a living author, 'to be a very great man, and to be still very inferior to Julius Oiesar, the most complete character, so Lord Bacon thought, of all anti(|uity. Nature seems incapable of such extraordinary combinations as composed his versatile capacity, which was the wonder even of the Ilomaiis themselves. The first general — the only trium2)hant politician — inferior to none iu eloquence — comparable to any in the attainments of wisdom, iu an age made up of the greatest commanders, states- men, orators, and philosophers that ever aiiiu'ared in the world — an author who composed a pcitcct speci- men of military annals in his travelling carriage — at one time in a controversy with Cato, at another writing a treatise on punning, and collecting a set of good sayings — fighting and making love at the same moment, and willing to almndon both his empire and his mistress for a sight of the Fountains of the Nile. Such did CiBsar appear to his contemporaries.' * The assassination of Cassar on the Ides of March, B.C. 44, was immediately preceded by certain prodi- gies, which it has greatly exercised the ingenuity of historians and others to attempt to explain. I'nst, on the night preceding the assassination, Ca;riar dreamt, at intervaJs, that he was soaring above tlie clouds on wings, and that he placed his hand witliin the right hand of J ove. It would seem that perhaps some obscure and half -formed image floated in Cwsar's niind of the eagle, as the king of birds, — secondarily, as the tutelary emblem under wliich his eoncpiering legions had so often obeyed his voice ; and thirdly, as the bird of Jove. To this triple relation of the bird, the dream covertly appears to jioint. And a singular coincidence is traced between the cb-eani and a circum- stance reported to us, as having actually occurred iu Home, about twenty-four hours before Ciesar's death. A little Ijird, which by some is represented as a very small kind of sparrow, but which, both to the Greeks and Komans, was known by a name implying a regal station (probably from the audacity which at times prompted it to attack the eagle), was observed to dnect its flight towards the senate-house, consecrated by Pompey, whilst a crowd of other birds were seen to hang upon its flight in close pmsuit, towards Pompey's Hall. Flight and pm'suit were there alike arrested; the little bird-king was overtaken by his enemies, who fell upon him as so many conspirators, and tore him limb from limb, f The other prodigdes were — 2. A dream of Caesar's wife, Calphurnia, that their house had fallen in, that he had been wounded by assassins, and had taken refuge in her bosom. 3. The arms of Mars, deposited in Ctesar's house, rattled at night. 4. The doors of the room wherein he slept flew open spontaneously. 5. The victims and bnds were inauspicious. 6. Soli- tary birds apjjeared in the Forum. 7. There were lights in the sky, and nocturnal noises. 8. Fiery hgures of men were seen ; a flame issued from tlie hand of a soldier's slave without hurting him. 9. After the murder of Caisar, it was remembered that the attendant removed his gilded chair from the senate- room, thinking that he would not attend the meeting. The last words of Ctesar, as he fell before the blows of his assassins, have become proverbial, being generally given as ' Et tu, Brute ! ' (And thou too, * Lord Broughton (John Cam Hobhouse) in notes to Childe Harold, Canto IV t See a paper by De Quiucey, in Blackwood's Edlii- hufi/h Blugazine, 1832. LAST WORDS OF MAEOH 15. EEMAEKABLE PERSONS. Brutus ! ) — certainly a most natural expression on .seeing a youthful and beloved friend among those prepared to shed his blood. There is, however, a doubt as to the words used by Caesar. They have been given as composed of the Greek language, ' Kal ah TiKvov l' (What, thou, too!) Some even express a doubt if he was heard to utter any expres- sion at all after the stabbing began, or did anything more than adjust his mantle, in order that, when fallen, the lower part of his person might be covered. LAST WOllDS OF REMARKABLE PERSONS. It may amuse tlie reader, in conuection with tlie preceding matter, to glance over a small collection of the final expressions of remarkable persons, as these are communicated by biogra- phers and historians. In most instances, the authorities are given, along with such explana- tions as may be presumed to be necessary. SocEATEs. (To a friend, when about to drink the cup of poison:) ' Krito, we owe a cock to yEsculapius ; discharge the debt and by no means omit it.' — Grote. ' I consider the sacrifice of the cock as a more cer- tain evidence of the tranquillity of Socrates, than his discourse on Immortality.' — Dr C'ullen. Mahomet. ' Oh Allah ! be it so — among the glorious associates in Paradise ! ' — Irving's Life of Mahomet. Sir Hugh Percy. ' I have saved the bird in my bosom.' Sir Hugh, fighting unsuccessfully for Henry VI. at Hedgely Sloor, April 1464, used this expression on feeling himself mortally wounded, in reference to the faith he had pledged to his unfortunate sovereign, while so many deserted him. Columbus. ' In manus tuas, Domine, com- mendo spiritum meum.' Pizareo. ' Jesu ! ' ' At that moment he received a wound in the throat, and, reeling, sank on the floor, while the swords of Kada and several of the conspirators were plunged into his body. "Jesu!" exclaimed the dying man, and, tracing a cross with his finger ou the bloody fioor, he bent down his head to kiss it, &c. ' — Prescott. Xing James V. of Scotland. 'It came with a lass, and it will go with one ! ' jVlluding to the intelligence brought to him, that his M'ife was delivered of a daughter, the heiress of the crown, and to the fact of the crown having come into his family by the daughter of King liobert Bruce. Cardinal Beaton (assassinated 1546). ' Fy, fy, all is gone ! ' 'And so he (James Melvin) stroke him twysc or thrise trowght him with a stog sweard ; and so he fell ; never word heard out of his mouth, but "lama ]ireast, I am a preast : fy, fy, all is gone ! '" — Knox's llixL Rfoniuition in Scot., edit. 1S4G, i. 177. Tasso. 'Into thy hands, O Lordl' — Wiffens TJfe of Tasso. CiiAELES V. ' Ay, Jesus ! ' — Stirluifs Cloister Life of Charles V. Feeeae, Bishop of St David's. March 30, 1555. (On being chained to the stake at Carmar- then Cross :) ' if I stir through the pains of my burning, believe not the doctrine I have taught.' John Xnox. 'Now it is come.' — 31' Cries Life of John Knox. Dm Donne. ' Thy will be done.' ' He lay fifteen days earnestly expecting his hourly change, and in the last hour of his last day, as his body melted away, and vapoiu-ed into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some revelation of the beatific vision, he said, " I were miserable if 1 might not die ; " and after those words, closed many ])eriods of his faint breath by saying often, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done ! '" — Walton's Life of Br Bonne. George Herbert. ' And now. Lord — Lord, now receive my soul ! ' Raleigh. (To the executioner, who was paus- ing :) ' Why dost thou not strike ? Strike, man ! ' Geotius. ' Be serious.' Egbert Cecil, first Eael of Salisbuet, Minister to James I. ' Ease and pleasure quake to hear of death ; but my life, full of cares and miseries, desireth to be dissolved.' It may be remarked that Lord Salisbury died when, to all aiipearance, at the smnmit of earthly glory. Duke of Buckingham. ' Traitor, thou hast killed me ! ' [To the assassin Felton.] Chaeles I. ' Eemember !' To Bishop Juxon, on the scaffold ; supposed tn refer to a message to his son, commanding him to forgive his enemies and murderers. Cromwell. ' It is not my design to drink or sleep, but my design is to make what haste I can to be gone.' Followed by a few pious cjacida- tions. — Carlyles Cromwell. Charles II. ' Don't let poor Nelly starve.' [Eeferring to his mistress, Nell Gwynne.] William III. ' Can this last long ? ' [To his physician.] This is not an uncommon death-bed expression. A lady, a victim by burning to a preposterous fashion of dress now in vogue, and who survived the accident a few hours, was heard to breathe, ' Shall I be long in dying ? ' Locke. ' Cease now.' [To Lady Marsham, who had been reading the Psalms to him.] Pope. ' There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship, and, indeed, friendship itself is but a part of virtue.' Geneeal Wolfe. ' What, do they run already ? then I die happy.' Alluding to the intelligence given him as he lay wounded on the field, that the French were beaten. William, Duke of Cumbeeland. ' It is all over.' 'On the 30th of October [1760], his Royal Highness was playing at picquet with General Hodgson. He grew confused and mistook the cards. The next day lie recovered enough, to appear at Com-t, but after dinner was seized with a sutfoeation, and ordered the window to be opened. One of his valets de chambre, who was accustomed to bleed him, was called, and prepared to tie up his arm; but the Duke said, "It is too late! — it is all over! " and expired.' — Walpolts Mem. of Reign of George III. Haydn. ' God preserve the Emperor.' Haller. ' The artery ceases to beat.' Madame de Pompadour, 1764. (To the cure of the Madeleine, who had called to see her, and was taking his leave, as she seemed just about to expire :) ' Un moment. Monsieur le Cure, nous nous en irons ensemble.' Earl of Chesterfield. 'Give Dayrolles a chair.' 'Upon the morning of his decease, and about half an hour before it happened, Mr Dayrolles [a friend] called upon him to make his usual visit. When he had entered the room, the valet ilc ehumhre oi)eningthe curtains of the bed, announced Mr Dayrolles to his 377 LAST WOEDS OF THE BOOK OF DAYS. EEMARKABLE PEKSONS. lordship. The earl just found strength in a faint voice to say, Oire DayroUcs a chair. These were the hxst ■\voi-ds he was heard to sjieak. They were charac- teristic, and were remarked by the very able and attentive phj'sician then in the room [Dr Warren]. "His good breeding," said that gentleman, "only quits him with Yd<.\'"—Mati/'s Me7)wirs of Philip £ail of Chesterfield, 1779. Pk Fbanklin. ' A dying man cau do notliiiig easy.' To his daughter, who had advised him to change his position in bed, that he might breathe more easily. These are the last words recorded in his biography ; but they were pronounced a few days before his decease. Dk William Hxjntek. 'If I had strengtli enough to hold a pen, I would write how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die.' Goldsmith. ' It then occurred to Dr Turton to put a very preg- nant question to his patient. " Yoiu- pulse," he said, "is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of fever you have. Is your mind at ease .?" "■No, it is not," was Goldsmith's melancholy answer. They are the last words we are to hear him utter in this world.'— i^orsfer's Life and Times of Oliver Gold- smith. Eontenelle. ' Je ne souffre pas, mes amis, mais je sens une certaiae difficulte d'etre.' (I do not suffer, my friends ; hut I feel a certain diffi- cidty of existing.) Thuelow. ' I'm shot if I don't believe I'm dying.' Johnson. ' God bless you, my dear.' To Miss Morris, a friend's daughter, who came to him at the last to ask his blessing. Gibbon. ' Mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! ' jMaeat. ' A moi, ma chere ! ' (Help, my dear !) To his waiting maid, on feeling himself stabbed in his bath by Charlotte Corday. Madame Eoland. ' Oh, Liberty, how many crimes are committed in thy name ! ' Addressed to the statue of Liberty, at her execu- tion. _ Mieabeau. ' Let me die to the sounds of deli- cious music' Gainsboeough. ' We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the company.' — A. Cunning- ham's Lives of Painters. Buens. ' That scoundrel, Matthew Penn ! ' The solicitor who had vnitten to hun about a debt, and inspired the poor poet with fears of a jail. Washington. ' It is well.' Nelson. ' I thank God I have done my duty.' William Pitt. ' Oh my country ! how I leave my country ! ' There was long a doubt as to the last words of Mr Pitt. The Earl of Stanhoi)e, in his Life of the great minister (1862), gave them from a manuscript left by his lordship's uncle, the Hon. James H. Stanhope, as, ' Oh my country ! how I love my country ! ' But his lordship afterwards stated in a letter in the Times, April 20, 1862, that, on re-examination of the manu- script, — a somewhat obscure one, — no doubt was left on his mind that the word ' love ' was a mistake for 'leave.' The expression, as now in this manner finally authenticated, is in a perfect and most sad conformity with the state of the national affairs at the time when Mr Pitt was approaching his end. A new coalition, which England had with great diffi- culty and at vast expense formed against Napoleon, had been dashed to pieces by the prostration of Austria; and Pitt must have had the idea in his mind that 378 hardly now a stay against that prodigious power re- mained. It was indeed generally believed that the overthrow of the coalition was what brought him to his eud. SiK John Mooee. ' Stanhope, remember me to your sister.' Addressed to one of his aides-de-camp, the Hon. Captain Stanhope, son of the Earl of Stanhojje. The person referred to was the celebrated Lady Hester Stanliope. — Life of Sir John Moore, by his brother, James Car-rick Moore. De Adam, Hector of the Sigh School of Edin- hurgh, 1809. 'It grows dark, boys ; you may go.' The venerable teacher thought he was exercising his class in Buchanan's Psalms, his usual practice on a Monday. The delhium ended with these words. De Stael. ' I have loved God, my father, and liberty.' Napoleon. ' Mon Dieu — La Nation Fran^aise — Tete d'armee.' — Alison. ' He expired at length without pain and in silence, during a convxilsion of the elements, on the night of the 5th of May 1821. The last words he stammered out were Army and France, but it could not be ascer- tained whether it was a dream, delirium, or adieu. ' — Lcunartine. John Adams, Second Peesident of the United States. ' Thomas Jefferson still sur- vives.' Adams died on the 4th Jrdy 1826, the fiftieth anni- versary of the declaration of Independence. As he found his end approaching at so interesting a crisis, he reflected that there would yet remain the writer of that famous document, his associate in so many trying scenes. He was in reality mistaken in the point of fact, for Jefferson at a distant part of the country had died that morning. Thomas Jeffeeson. ' I resign my soul to God, my daughter to my country.' Bteon. ' I must sleep now.' Talma. ' The worst of all is that I cannot see.' Geoege IV. ' Watty, what is this ? It is death, my boy — they have deceived me.' To his page, Sir Wathen Waller, who was assisting him on a seat when the last qualm came. Sir Waltee Scott. ' God bless you all ! ' To his family, surrounding his death-bed. SiE James Mackintosh. ' Happy.' ' Upon our inquiring how he felt, he said he was "happy." ' — Life hy his Son. Goethe. ' More light !' 'His sj^eech was becoming less and less distinct. The last words audible were, Moi-e light ! The final darkness grew apace, and he whose eternal longings had been for more light, gave a parting cry for id, as he was passing imder the shadow of death. ' — G. H, Lewes' s Life of Goethe. Edwaed Ieving. ' If I die, I die unto the Lord. Amen ! ' — OUphanfs Life of JSdivard Irving. Chaeles Mathews. ' I am ready.' 'I af)proached him,' says his widow biographer, 'and, kissing his head, said, "I want you to go to bed now. " He closed the Bible which he had been reading ; and, looking iqi at me, replied meekly, ' ' I am ready." . . . " / a??t ready!" memorable words ! — they were his last, and they recurred to me as I was taken from him in a twofold sense, and ought in some degree to have tempered the anguish of the time.' Eael of Eldon. ' It matters not to me, where I am going, whether the weather be cold or hot.' To Mr Pennington, who had made the remark that it was a cold day. — Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors. LAST WORDS OF EEMAEKABLE PEESONS. MAECH 15. MAEEIAGE TORTUNES. Peincess Chaelotte. ' You make me drunk. Pray leave me quiet. I find it affects my liead.' To her medical attendants, who had been adniiuis- tering brandy, hot wine, and sal volatile. — Jiaikes''s Correspondence with the Duke of Wellington. Peofessok Edwaed Foebes. ' My own wife.' To Mrs Forbes, who inquired as he was dying if he still knew her. — Memoir of Edward Forbes hij George Wilson, 03. St Fiiiian, surnaiued Lolibar (or the Leper), of Ireland, 8th century. Born. — Rene de Bossu, classical scholar, 1G31, raris ; Jacques Boileau, French theoloffian, 1 G35 ; Caroline Lucretia llcrschel, astronomer, 1750, Hanover ; Madame Cam pan, historical writer, 1752. I>ied. — -Tiberius Claudius Nero, a.d. o7 , 3fi.feu2an ; the Emperor Valentinian III., assassinated 455; Alexander II I. of Scotland, 1286; Lord Berners, translator of Froissart, 1532, Calais; liichard Bnrbage, original performer in Shakspeare's plays, I(i\8-19, Shoreditch ; Johann Severin Vater, German linguist and theologian, 182G, Hulk; Gottfried Nees von Esenbach, botanist, 1858 ; JM. Camille Julllen, musician, 1860. RICHARD BURBAGE. Everytliing connected with Skakspeare and his works possesses a powerful interest to culti- vated Englishmen. So little, indeed, is known of our great dramatist, that we are in some instances, perhaps, too ready to make the most of the simplest triiles pertaining to his meagre history. But Eichard Bnrbage, the actor, who first per- sonated Shakspeare's leading characters, and whose eminence in his art may have suggested many of the noble mind creations which now delight us, merits a niche in the temple of Shak- spearean history, second only in rank to that of the great master of nature himself. Bnrbage, the son of a player, was born about 1564. His name stands next to that of Shakspeare in the licences for acting, granted to the company at the Globe Theatre, by James I., in 1603. Little more can be learned regarding his career, tlian what is stated in the many funeral elegies written on his death. One of these, of which an in- correct^ copy was first printed in the Gentleman f; Magazine, 1825, thus enumerates the principal characters he performed : * He's gone, and with him what a world are dead. Friends, every one, and what a blank instead ! Take him for all in all, he was a man Not to be matched, and no age ever can. Xo more young Hamlet, though but scant of breath, Shall cry, "Rev^enge ! " for his dear father's death. Poor Romeo never more shall tears beget For Juliet's love and cruel Oapulet : Harry shall not be seen as king or prince, They died with thee, dear Dick (and not long since), Not to revive again, Jeronimo Shall cease to mourn his son Horatio : They cannot call thee from thy naked bed By horrid outcry ; and Antonio's dead. Edward shall lack a representative ; And Crookback, as befits, shall cease to live. Tyrant Macbeth, with unwashed bloody hand, We vainly now may hope to understand. Brutus and Marcius henceforth must be dumb, For ne'er thy like upon the stage shall come. To charm the faculties of ears and eyes, Unless we could command the dead to rise. Vindex is gone, and what a loss was he ! Frankford, Brachiano, and Malvole. Heart-broken Philaster, and Amintas too, Are lost for ever : with the red-haired Jew, 380 ' Which sought the bankrupt merchant's i)ound of llesh. By woman -lawyer caught in his own mesh. What a wide world was in that little sjjace. Thyself a world — the Clobe thy fittest place ! Thy stature small, but every thought and nuiod Might throughly from thy face be understood ; And his whole action he could change with ease From ancient Lear to youthful Pericles. But let me not forget one chief est part. Wherein, beyond the rest, he moved the lieai-t ; The grieved ]\Ioor, made jealous by a slave, Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave, He slew himself upon the bloody bed. All these, and many more, are with him dead. ' It must be cited as no mean evidence of Bur- bagc's merit as an actor, that the fame of his abilities held a prominent place in theatrical ti-adition, down to the days of Charles the Second, when Flecknoe wrote a poem in his praise, inscribed to Charles Hart, the great per- former after the Restoration. Bnrbage was performing at the Globe Theatre on the 29th of June 1613, when that classic edifice was burned down, very shortly after Shakspeare had given up tlie stage, and retired to his native town. And it is, in all probability, owing to this irremediable disaster, THE GLOBE THEATEE. that not one line of a drama by Shakspeare, in the handwriting of the period, has been pre- served to us. The play in performance, when the fire broke out, was called All This is True — supposed, with good reason, to be a revival of Ki)ig Henri/ the Eighth, under a new name. This we learn from a contemporary ballad, On the Pitiful Burning of the Glohe Play-house, in wliich Bnrbage is thus mentioned : ' Out ran the knights, out ran the lords. And there was great ado. Some lost their hats, some lost their swords, Then out ran Burbage too ; The reprobates, though drunk on ISfonday, I'rayed for the fool, and Henry Coudy. Oh ! sorrow, pitifid sorrow, and yet All This is True.^ M. JULLIEN. MAECH 16. TKINCE HOHENLOHE. Elegiac effusions poured forth like a torrent on the death of Burbage. The poets had been under heavy obligations to the great actor, and felt his loss severely. By one of those "written by ]\Iiddleton, the dramatist, the tradition vrhich represents Burbage to have been a successful painter in oil, as well as an actor, is corrobo- rated : ox THE DEATH OF THAT GREAT MASTER IN HIS ART AXD QUALITY, PAINTING AND PLAYING, R. BURBAGE. ' Astronomers and star-gazers this year, Write but of four eclipses — five apjiear : Death interj)osing Biu-bage, and their staying, Ilath made a visible echpse of playing. ' The lines remind one of Dr Johnson's saying, that the death of Garrick had eclipsed the gaiety of nations. The word ' staying,' at the end of the third line, refers to the players being then inhibited from acting, on account of the death of Anne of Denmark, Queen of James the First ; ■who died at Hampton Court, just a fortnight before Burbage. The abilities and industry of Burbage earned their due reward. He left landed estate at his death producing £300 per annum ; equivalent to about four times the amount at the present day. He was buried in the church of St Leonard's, Shoreditch, and the only inscription put over his grave were the simple and expressive words, 'exit BURBAGE.' M, JULLIEN. M. Jullien is likely to be under-estimated by those who remember only his peculiarities. His name is so closely associated with Promenade Concerts, that the one is almost certain to suggest the other ; and his appearance at those concerts was so remarkable, so unusually conspicuous, that many persons remember his vanity rather than his ability. In dress and manner he always seemed to say, 'I am the great Jullien;' and it is not surprising that he should, as a consequence, earn a little of that contempt which is awarded to vain persons. But the estimate ought not to stop here. Jullien had really a feeling for good music. Although not the first to introduce high- class orchestral music to the English public at a cheap price, he certainly was the first who succeeded in making such a course profitable night after night for two or three mouths together. His promenade concerts were re- peated for many successive years, and so well were they attended, that the locomotion implied by the word ' promenade ' became almost an impossibility. Of the c[uadrilles and mazurkas, the waltzes and polkas, played on those occasions, high-class musicians thought nothing ; but when Jullien, with a band of very admirable per- formers, played some of the finest instrumental works due to the genius of Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn, and Haydn, such as the 'Choral' and ' Pastoral Symphonies,' the ' Symphony Eroica,' the ' Jupiter Symphony,' the ' Italian ' and ' Scotch Symphonies,' and the like, persons of taste crowded eagerly to hear them. He knew his players well, and they knew him ; each could trust the other, and the consequence was that the symphonies, concertos, and overtures were always admirably performed. He found the means of making his shilling concerts pay, even when hiring the services of an entire opera or philhar- monic band ; and by his tact in doing tJiis, he was enabled year after year to present some of the highest kind of music to his hearers. The rapt attention with which the masterpieces were listened to was always remarkable ; the noisy quadrilles were noisily applauded, but Jullien shewed that he could appreciate music of a higher class, and so did his auditors. His life was a remarkable one, humble at the beginning, showy in the meridian, melancholy at the close. Born in 1810, he was in early life a sailor-boy, and served as such at the battle of Navarino. About 1835 his musical taste lifted him to the position of manager of one of the public gardens of Paris. His success in this post induced him to visit London, where his Promenade Concerts were equally well received. In 1851 his troubles began, owing to unsuccessful speculations at the Surrey Gardens and Coveut Garden Theatre. Barely had he recovered from these when his mind became affected, and his death, in 1860, took place in a lunatic asylum at Paris. PRINCE HOHEXLOHE's MIRACULOUS CURES. On the 16th of March 1823, Prince Hohen- lohe wrote a letter which, connected with sub- sequent events, produced a great sensation among that class of religious persons who believe that the power of working miracles stiU exists. Three or four years before that date, Miss O'Connor, a nun in the convent of New Hall, near Chelmsford, began to be affected with swellings in one hand and arm. They became gradually worse, and the case assumed an aggravated form. A surgeon of Chelmsford, after an unsuccessful application of the usual modes of cure, proposed to send for Dr Carpue, an eminent London practitioner. He also failed ; and so did Dr Badeley, the physician of the convent. At length, after more than three years of suffering, the poor nun tried spiritual means. The Superioress or Lady Abbess, having heard of certain extraordinary powers alleged to be possessed by Prince Hohenlohe, wrote to him, soliciting his prayers and advice In reference to Miss O'Connor. In his rcpl}^, dated as above, the Prince directed that on the 3d of May (a high festival in the Koman Catholic Church), at eight j o'clock in the morning, the sufferer should make confession, partake of the Sacrament, and offer up fervent prayers ; and stating that, on the same day and hour, he also Mould pray for her. At the appointed time, Miss O'Connor did as had been directed ; and, according to the account given, her jjains Immediately left her, and she gradually recovered. The facts were attested by Dr Badeley ; and the authorities of the convent mentioned that he was a Protestant, as if to dis- arm suspicion concerning the honesty of his tes- timony. This Prince Hohenlohe was a young religious enthusiast. There is no just ground to believe that he was an Impostor. Like Joanna South- cote, he sincerely credited his own possession of some kind of miraculous power. He belonged to a branch of an ancient sovereign family in Bavaria. Having become an ecclesiastic, he was 381 PEIKCE HOHENLOHK. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST PATEICK. very fervent iu his devotions. In 1821, when about twenty-nine years of ago, his fame as a miraculous curer of diseases began to spread abroad. The police wore ordered to watch the matter ; for there were hundreds of believers in him at 13aniberg ; and even princesses came to solicit his prayers for their restoration to health and beauty. "The police required tliat his pro- ceedings shoidd be open and public, to shew that there was no collusion ; this he resisted, as being contrary to the sacred character of such devo- tional exercises. They therefore forbade him to continue the practice ; and ho at once retired into Austria, where the Government was likely to be more indulgent. His fame spread to England, and on the 3d of January 1822, there appeared an adver- tisement so remarkable that we will give it in full : — ' To Germans, Foreign Merchants, and Others. — Prince Alexander of Hohenlohe.— Whereas several public journals, both foreign and domestic, have announced most extraordinary cures to have been performed by Prince Alexander of Hohen- lohe : This is to entreat that any one who can give imerring information concerning him, where he now is, or of his intended route, will imme- diately do so ; and they will thereby confer on a female, labouring under what is considered an incurable malady, an obligation which no words can describe. iShould a gentleman give the infor- mation, his own feelings would sufficiently recom- pense him ; but if a person in indigent circum- stances, ten guineas will with pleasure be given, provided the correctness of his information can be ascertained.— Address to A. B., at Mrs Hedge's, Laundress, 9,MomitEow,Davies Street, Berkeley Square.' There is a touching earnestness about this, which tells of one yearning to fly to any available succour as a relief from sufiering : whether it was obtained, we do not know. In France, twelve witnesses deposed to a fact which was allegedto have occurred in the Convent of St Benoit, at Toulouse. One of the nuns, named Adelaide Veysre, through an injury in the leg, had her foot twisted nearly round ; and for six months she endured great sufi'ering. During a visit which the Cardinal Bishop of Toulouse paid to her, to administer spiritual consolation, she begged him to apply to Prince Hohenlohe. He did so, and penned a letter dated May 22, 1822. The Prince, in reply, directed that on the 25th of July, the feast of St James (patron of monks), solemn prayer should be offered up for her reco- very. The Bishop performed mass in the invalid's chamber on the appointed day; and, it is asserted, that when the Holy Wafer was raised, the foot resumed its proper position, the first stage in a complete recovery. In 1823, Dr Murray, Eoman Catholic Arch- bishop of Dublin, avowed his belief in the fol- lowing narrative :— Miss Mary Stuart, a nun in the Kanelagh Convent at Dublin, who had been afflicted with a nervous malady for four years, having heard that the 1st of August was a day on which Prince Hohenlohe advised all sufierers to pray solemnly for relief, begged that every- thing should be done to give efl'ect to the cere- mony. Two priests and four nuns joined her in mass, and before the day was ended, her reco- 382 very had commenced. The facts were sworn to before a Dublin magistrate. The Eev. llobert Daly afterwards wrote to Dr Cheyne, an eminent physician who had previously attended Miss Stuart, asking whether in his opinion there was any miraculous interposition, or whether ho could account for the cure by natural causes. The physician, in a courteous but cautious reply, sini])ly stated that he found it quite easy to ex- j)lain the phenomenon according to j)rinciples known in every-day practice. Dr Cheyne seems to have considered the ailments of such persons as iu a great measure dependent on nervous ex- haustion and depression of mind, and the conva- lescence as arising chiefly from mental elevation and excitement. There is no necessity for suspecting wilful distortion of truth in these recitals. All, or nearly aU the Prince's patients were young females of great nervous susceptibility ; and they as well as he were doubtless sincere iu believing that the cures were miraculous. Modern medical science regards such facts as real, but to be accounted for on simply natural principles. MAECH 17. St Joseph of Arimathsea, the patron of Glastonbury. Maoy martyrs of Alexandria, about 392. St Patrick, apostle of Ireland, 464 or 493. St Gertrude, virgin, abbess in Brabant, 659. Almost as many countries arrogate the honour of having been the natal soil of St Patrick, as made a similar claim with respect to Homer. Scotland, England, France, and Wales, each furnish their respective pretensions ; but, what- ever doubts may obscure his birthplace, all agree in stating that, as his name implies, he was of a patrician family. He was born about the year 372, and when only sixteen years of age, was carried off by pirates, who sold him into slavery in Ireland ; where his master employed him as a swineherd on the well-known mountain of Sleamish, in the county of Antrim. Here he passed seven years, during which time he ac- quired a knowledge of the Irish language, and made himself acquainted with the manners, habits, and customs of the people. Escaping from captivity, and, after many adventures, reaching the Continent, he was successively ordained deacon, priest, and bishop ; and then once more, with the authority of Pope Celestine, he returned to Ireland to preach the Gospel to its then heathen inhabitants. The principal enemies that St Patrick found to the introduction of Christianity into Ireland, were the Druidical priests of the more ancient faith, who, as might naturally be supposed, were exceedingly adverse to any innovation. These Druids, being great magicians, would have been formidable antagonists to any one of less miracu- lous and saintly powers than Patrick. _ Their obstinate antagonism was so great, that, in spite of his benevolent disposition, he was compelled to curse their fertile lands, so that they became ST PATEICK. MAECH 17. ST PATEICK. dreary bogs ; to curse tlieir rivers, so that they produced no fish ; to curse their very kettles, so that with no amount of fire and patience could they ever be made to boil ; and, as a last resort, to curse the Druids themselves, so that the earth opened and swallowed them up. A popular legend relates that the saint and his followers found themselves, one cold morning, on a mountain, without a fire to cook their break- fast, or warm their frozen limbs. Unheeding their complaints, Patrick desired them to collect a pile of ice and snow-balls ; which having been done, he breathed upon it, and it instantaneously became a pleasant fire — a fire that long after served to point a poet's conceit in these lines : ' Saint Patrick, as iu legends told, The morning being very cold, In order to assuage the weather, Collected bits of ice together ; Then gently breathed upon the pyre, When every fi-agment blazed on lire. Oh ! if the saint had been so kind, As to have left the gift behind To such a lovelorn wretch as me, Who daily struggles to be free ; I'd be content — content with part, I'd only ask to thaw the heart, The fi-ozen heart, of PoUy Roe.' The greatest of St Patrick's miracles was that of driving the venomous reptiles out of Ireland, and rendering the Irish soil, for ever after, so obnoxious to the serpent race, that they instan- taneously die on touching it. Colgan seriously relates that St Patrick accomplished this feat by beating a drum, which he struck with such fer- vour that he knocked a hole in it, thereby endan- gering the success of the miracle. But an angel appearing mended the drum ; and the patched instrument was long exhibited as a holy relic. In 1831, Mr James Cleland, an Irish gentle- man, being curious to ascertain whether the climate or soil of Ireland was naturally destruc- tive to the serpent tribe, purchased half-a-dozen of the common harmless English snake {natrix torquata), in Covent Garden market in London. Brmging them to Ireland, he turned them out in his garden at Eath-gael, in the county of Down ; and in a week afterwards, one of them was killed at Milecross, about three miles distant. The persons into whose hands this strange monster fell, had not the slightest suspicion that it was a snake, but, considering it a curious kind of eel, they took it to Dr J. L. Drummond, a celebrated Irish naturalist, who at once pronounced the animal to be a reptile and not a fish. The idea of a ' rale living sarpint ' having been killed within a short distance of the very burial-place of St Patrick, caused an extraordinary sensation of alarm among the country people. The most absurd rumours were freely circulated, and credited. One far-seeing clergyman preached a sermon, in which he cited this ujifortunate snake as a token of the immediate commencement of tlie millennium ; while another saw in it a type of the approach of the cholera morbus. Old pro- phecies were raked up, and all parties and sects, for once, united in believing that the auake fore- shadowed ' the beginning of the end,' though they very widely differed as to what that end was to be. Some more practically minded persons, how- ever, subscribed a considerable sum of monej^, which they offered iu rewards for the destruc- tion of any other snakes that might be found in the district. And three more of the snakes were not long afterwards killed, within a few miles of the garden where they were liberated. The remaining two snakes were never very clearly accounted for; but no doubt they also fell vic- tims to the reward. The writer, who resided in that part of the country at the time, well remem- bers the wild rumours, among the more illiterate classes, on the appearance of those snakes ; and the bitter feelings of angry indignation expressed by educated persons against the — very fortunately then unknown — person, who had dared to bring them to Ireland. A more natural story than the extirpation of the serpents, has afforded material for the pencil of the painter, as well as the pen of the poet. When baptizing an Irish chieftain, the venerable saint leaned heavily on his crozier, the steel- spiked point of which he had unwittingly placed on the great toe of the converted heathen. The pious chief, in his ignorance of Christian rites, believing this to be an essential part of the ceremony, bore the pain without ilinching or murmur ; though the blood flowed so freely from the wound, that the Irish named the place Struth- fhuil (stream of blood), now pronounced Struill, the name of a well-known place near Dowu- patrick. And here we are reminded of a very remarkable fact in connection with geographical appellations, that the footsteps of St Patrick can be traced, almost from his cradle to his grave, by the names of places called after him. Thus, assuming his Scottish origin, he was born at Kil- patrick (the ceU or church of Patrick), in Dumbar- tonshire. He resided for some time at Dalpatrick (the district or division of Patrick), in Lanarkshire ; and visited Crag-phadrig (the rock of Patrick), near Inverness. He founded two churches, Eirkpatrick at Irongray, in Kircudbright; and Kirkpatrick at Fleming, in Dumfries ; and ultimately sailed from Portpatrick, leaving behind him such an odour of sanctity, that among the most distinguished fiimilies of the Scottish aristocracy, Patrick has been a favourite name down to the present day. Arriving in England, ho preached in Patterdale (Patrick's dale), in Westmoreland ; and founded the church of Kirkpatrick, in Durham. Visiting Wales, he walked over Sarn-badrig (Patrick's causeway), which, now covered by the sea, forms a dan- gerous shoal in Carnarvon Bay ; and departing for the Continent, sailed from Llan-badrig (the church of Patrick), in the island of Anglcsea. Undertaking his mission to convert the Irish, he first landed at Innis-patrick (the island of Patrick), and next at HoLmpatrick, on the oppo- site shore of the mainland, in the county of Dublin. Sailing northwards, he touched at the Isle of Man, sometimes since, also, called Innis-patrick, where he founded another church of Kirkpatrick, near the town of Peel. Again landiug on the coast of Ireland, in the county of Down, he converted and baptized the chieftain Dichu, on his own threshing-floor. The name of the parish of Saul, derived from Sabbal-patrick 383 ST PATKICK. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST PATRICK, (the barn of Patrick), porpotualcs the event. He then profcedod to To!n])le-patrii'k, in Antrim, and from thence to a loft}' mountain in JMaj'o, ever since called Croagh-patrick. He founded an abbey in East IVEcatli, called Pomnacli-Padraig (the house of Patrick), and built a church in Dublin on the spot where St Patrick's Cathedral uon- stands. In an island of Lough Derg, in the county of Donegal, there is 8t Patrick's Purgatory ; in Leinster, St Patrick's AVood; at Cashel, St Patrick's llock ; the St Patrick's AYells, at uhich the holy man is said to liave quenched his thirst, may be counted by dozens. He is commonly stated to have died at Saul on the 17th of March 493, in the one hundred and twenty-first year of his age. Poteen, a favourite beverage in Ireland, is also said to have derived its name from St Patrick ; he, according to legend, being the first who in- structed the Irish in the art of distillation. This, however, is, to say the least, doubtful ; the most authentic historians representing the saint as a very strict promoter of temperance, if not exactly a teetotaller. We read that in 41.5 he commanded his disciples to abstain from drink in the day- t ime, until the bell I'ang for vespers in the evening. One Colman, though busily engaged in the severe labours of the field, exhausted with heat, fatigue, and intolerable thirst, obeyed so literally the injunction of his revered preceptor, that lie re- frained from indulging himself with one droji of water during a long sultry harvest day. But human endurance has its limits : when the vesper bell at last rang for evensong, Colman dropped down dead — a martyr to thirst. Irishmen can well appreciate such a martyrdom ; and the name of Colman, to this day, is frequently cited, with the added epithet of tf-r], In such an oyster as this I 111 faith, I cannot find Which i.s before, which is behind ; But shall we here be pinned, Noah, as have thou bhss ? ' The water is now rising, and she is pressed still more urgently to go into the ark, on which she returns for answer : ' Sir, for Jack nor for Gill will I turn my face, Till I have on this hill spun a space On my rock ; Well were he might get mc ! Now will I down set me ; Yet rede [counsel] I no man let [plunder] mo For dread of a knock. ' The danger becomes now so imminent, that Noah's wife jumps into the ark of her own will, where elic immediately picks up another quarrel with her husband, and they fight again, but this time Noah is conqueror, and his partner complains of being beaten ' blue,' while their three sons lament over the family discords. 25 In the similar play in the Chester mysteries, the wife assists in tolerably good temper during the building of the ark, but when it is finished she refuses to go into it, and behaves in a manner which leads Noah to exclaim : ' Lorde, that wemen be crabbed aye ! And non are meke, I dare well saye.' Noah's wife becomes so far reconciled that she assists in carrying into the ark the various couples of beasts and birds; but when this labour is achieved, she refuses to go in herself unless she be allowed to take her gossips with her, tell- ing Noah, that unless he agree to her terms, he may row whither he likes, and look out for another wife. Then follows a scene at the tavern, where the good dame and her gossips join in the following chant : ' The good gossippe-s songe. The flude comes flittiiige in full faste, On everye syde that spreades full farre ; For feare of drowninge I am agaste ; Good gossijipes, lett us drawe nere. And lett us drinke or [eve] we departe, For ofte tymes \\c have done soe. For att a draughte thou driiilics a quarte, And soe will I doe or I goe. Heare is a pottill full of malmsiue, good and stronge ; Itt will rejoice bouth liearte and tonge ; Though Noye thinke us never so longe, Heare we will drinke ahke.' At this moment, her three sons arrive and drag her away to the ai'k, which she has no sooner entered than she falls a-beating her husband. These w"ill serve as curious examples of the corrupt and not very reverent form in which, the events of Scripture history were during the middle ages communicated to the vulgar. The quarrels of Noah and his wife formed so popular a story that they became proverbial. The readers of Chaucer will remember how, in the Canterbury Tales, Nicholas, when examining the carpenter on his knowledge of Noah's flood, asks him — ' " Hast thou not herd," quod Nicholas, " also The sorwe of Noe, with his felawship. Or that he miglite get his -wif to ship ? Him had be lever, I dare wel undertake. At thilke time, than all his wethers blake. That she had had a ship hireself alone." ' 5orre. — Francesco Albano, painter, 1578, Bologna; David Ancillon, learned French Protestant clergyman, 1617, iFetz ; Samuel Patterson, first book auctioneer, 1728, London ; Carsten Niebuhr, celebrated traveller, 1733, West Ludingworth ; the Rev. Dr Thomas Chal- mers, 1780, Ansh-uther ; Ebenczer Elliott, ' Corn Law Rhymer,' \19i\, Mashorough, York. Lied. — Ciieius Pompeius, Labicnus, and Attlus Varus, B.C. 45, killed, Munda ; Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, A.i>. 180, Sirnnam : William Earl of Pembroke, 1570, Lon- don; Thomas Randolph, poet, IGSi, niathe7-wick ; Philip Massinger, dramatic poet, 1640; Bishop Gilbert Burnet, historian, 1715, Clerkemoell ; Joiui Baptiste Rousseau, eminent French lyric poet, 1741, Brussels ; George Earl ol" Maccleslitld, astronomer, P.KS., 1764; Daniel Ber- nouilli, mathematician, 17 &}, Bask ; David Dale, philan- thropist, 1806 ; Sir J. V,. Smith, first president of the Linncan Society, 1828, Norwich; J. J. Grandier, the eminent designer of book illustratious, 1847; Mrs Anna Jameson, writer on art. 1860. 385 DAVID DALE. THE BOOK OP DAYS, edwaed the kikg and mabtye. 11AVID DALE. Died, on llio ITtk March 180G, David Dale, one of the fathers of the cotton manufacture in Scotland, lie was the model of a self-raised, upright, successful man of business. Sprung from humble parents at Stewarton in Ayrshire, he early entered on a commercial career at Glas- gow, and soon began to grapple with great iindortalcings. In company Avith Sir llichard Arkwriglit, he commenced the celebrated New Lanark Cotton Mills in 1783, and in the course of a few years he had become a rich man. Mr Dale in this career had great difficulties to ovex*- come, particularly in the prejudices and narrow sightedness of the surrounding cou.ntry gentle- folk. He overcame them all. He took his full share of public duty as a magistrate. The poor recognised him as the most princely of philan- thropists. He was an active lay preacher in a little body of Independents to which he belonged, and whose small, poor, and scattered congrega- tions he half supported. Though unostentatious to a remarkable degree, it was impossible to con- ceal that David Dale was one of those rare mor- tals who hold all wealth as a trust for a general working of good in the world, and who cannot truly enjoy anything in which others are not par- ticipators. Keeping in view certain prejudices entertained regarding the moral effects of the factory system, it is curious to learn what were the motives of the philanthropic Dale in promoting cotton mills. His great object was to furnish a profitable employment for the T)oor, and train to habits of industry those whom he saw ruined by a semi-idleness. He aimed at correcting evils already existing, evils broad and palpable ; and it never occurred to him to imagine that good, well-paid work would sooner or later harm any body. J3y a curious chance, Eobert Owen married the eldest daughter of Mr Dale, and became his suc- cessor in the management of the New Lanark Mills. Both were zealous in promoting educa- tion among their people ; but there was an infinite difference between the views of the two men as to education. Dale was content with little more than impressing the old evangelical faith of western Scotland upon the youth under his charge. Owen contemplated modes of moralising the people such as no Scotchman had ever dreamt of. The father-in-law was often put upon the defensive by the son-in-law, regarding his simple Tinmistrusting faith, and was obliged to admit that there was force inwhat Owen said, assuming the truth of his view of human nature. But he would generally end the discussion by remarking with his affectionate smile, ' Thou needest to be very right, for thou art very positive.' David Dale was a remarkably obese man, inso- much it was said he had not for years seen his shoe-buckles as he walked. He one day spoke of having fallen all his length on the ice ; to which his friend replied that he had much reason to be thankful that it was not all his breadth. The name of the worthy philanthropist has been commemorated in the names of two of his grand- children, — the Hon. liobert Dale Owen, lately ambassador for the United States to the King- 386 dom of the Two Sicilies, and David Dale Owen, author of a laborious work on the Geology of Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota (1852). MARCH 18. St Alexander, Bisliop of Jerusalem, martyr, 251. St Cyril, Archbishop of Jerusalem, 336. St Fridian, Bishop of Luccn, 578. St I'^dward, King of England, and martyr, 978. St Anselm, Bishop of Lucca, 1086. EDWARD THE KING AND MARTYR. The great King Edgar had two wives, first Elfleda, and, after her cleath, Elfrida, an ambi- tious woman, who had become queen through the murder of her first husband, and who survived her second ; and Edgar left a son by each, Ed- ward by Elfleda, and Ethelred by Elfi-ida. At the time of their father's death, Edward was thirteen, and Ethelred seven years of age ; and they were placed by the ambition of Elfrida, and by political events, in a position of rivalry. Edgar's reign had been one continued struggle to establish monarchism, and with it the supre- macy of the Church of Eome, in Anglo-Saxon England; and the violence with which this design had been carried out, with the persecution to which the national clergy were subjected, now caused a reaction, so that at Edgar's death the country was divided into two powerful parties, of which the party opposed to the monks was numerically the strongest. The queen joined this party, in the hope of raising her son to tlie throne, and of ruling England in his name ; and the feeling against the liomish usurpation was so great, that, although Edgar had declared his wish that his eldest son should succeed him, and his claim was no doubt just, the crown was only secured to him by the energetic interference of Dunstan. Edward thus became King of England in the year 975. Edward appears, as far as we can learn, to have been an amiable youth, and to have pos- sessed some of the better qualities of his father ; but his reign and life were destined to be cut short before he reached an age to display them. He had sought to conciliate the love of his step- mother by lavishing his favour upon her, and he made her a grant of Dorsetshire, but in vain ; and she lived, apparently in a sort of sullen state, away from court, with her son Ethelred, at Corfe in that county, plotting, according to some authorities, with what may be called the national party, against Dunstan and the government. The Anglo-Saxons were all passionately attached to the pleasures of the chase, and one day — it was the 18th of March 978 — King Edward was hunting in the forest of Dorset, and, knowing that he was in tlie neighbourhood of Corfe, and either suffering from thirst or led by the desire to see his half-brother Ethelred, for whom he cherished a boyish attachment, he left his fol- lowers and rode alone to pay a visit to his mother. Elfrida received him with the warmest demon- strations of affection, and, as he was unwilling to dismount from his horse, she offered him the EDWAHD THE KINO AND MAETTE. MAECH 18. LAWEENCE STEENE. cup with her own hand. While he was in the act of drinking, one of the queen's attendants, by her command, stabbed him with a dagger. The prince hastily turned his horse, and rode toward the wood, but ho soon became faint and fell from his horse, and his foot becoming entangled in the stirrup, he was dragged along tdl the horse was stopped, and the corpse was carried into the solitary cottage of a poor woman, where it was found next morning, and, according to what appears to be the most trustworthy account, thrown by Elfrida's directions into an adjoining marsh. The young king was, however, subse- quently buried at Wareham, and removed in the following year to be interred with royal honours at Shaftesbury. The monastic party, whose interests were identified with Edward's government, and who considered that he had been sacrificed to the hostility of their opponents, looked upon him as a martyr, and made him a saint. The writer of this part of the Anglo- Saxon chronicle, who was probably a contempo- rary, expresses his feelings in the simple and pathetic words, 'No worse deed than this was done to the Anglo race, since they first came to Britain.' The story of the assassination of King Edward is sometimes quoted in illustration of a practice which existed among the Anglo-Saxons. Our forefathers were great drinkers, and it was cus- tomary with them, in drinking parties, to pass round a large cup, from which each in turn drunk to some of the company. He who thus drank, stood up, and as he lifted the cup with both hands, his body was exposed without any defence to a blow, and the occasion was often seized by an enemy to murder him. To prevent this, the following plan was adopted. When one of the company stood up to drink, he required the companion who sat next to him, or some one of the party, to be his 2^ledcje, that is, to be re- sponsible for protecting him against anybody who should attempt to take advantage of his defenceless position ; and this companion, if he consented, stood up also, and raised his drawn sword in his hand to defend him while drinking. This practice, in an altered form, continued long after the condition of society had ceased to require it, and was the origin of the modern practice of pledging in drinking. At great festi- vals, in some of our college halls and city com- panies, the custom is preserved almost in its primitive form in passing round the ceremonial cup — the loving cup, as it is sometimes called. As each person rises and takes the cup in his hand to drink, the man seated next to him rises also, and when the latter takes the cup in his turn, the individual next to him does the £orM.— Philip dc Lahlre, French geometrician, 1640, Paris; John Caldwell Calhoun, American statesman, 1782, South Carolina. Z>iW.— Ed ward, King and Martyr, 978; Pope Ilonorius III,, 1227; Bishop Patrick Forbes, 1635, Aberdeen; Dr George Stanhope, eminent divine, 1728, Leiviakam ; Sir Robert Walpolc, (Earl of Orfurd,) prime minister to George I. and II., 1745, Jlour/hton; the Rev. Lawrence Sterne, author of Tristram Shandy , 1768, Bond- street ; John Home Tooke, political writer, 1812, Ealing ; Sebas- tian Pether, painter of moonlight scenery, 1844, Bat- tersea ; Sir Henry Pottinger, G.C.B., military commander in India, 1856; W. H. Playfair, architect, \?>bl, Edinburgh. LAWRENCE STEENE. The world is now fully aware of the moral deficiencies of the author of Tristram Shandi/. Let us press lightly upon them for the sake of the bright things scattered through his writings — though these, as a whole, are no longer read. The greatest misfortune in the case is that Sterne was a clergyman. Here, however, we may charitably recall that he was one of the many who have been drawn into that profession, raUier by connection than their own inclination. If Sterne had not been the great-grandson of an Archbishop of York, with an influential pluralist uncle, who could give liim preferment, we should probably have been spared the additional pain of considering his improprieties as made the darker by the complexion of his coat. He spent the best part of his life as a life-enjoying, thought- less, but not particularly objectionable country pastor, at Sutton in Yorkshire, and he had attained the mature age of forty-seven when the first volumes of his singular novel all at once brought him into the blaze of a London reputa- tion. It was mainly during the remaining eight years of his life that he incurred the blame which now rests witli his name. These years were made painful to him by wretched health. His constitution seems to have been utterly worn out. A month after the publication of his Senihnentul Journey, while it was reaping the first, fruits of its rich lease of fame, the poor author expired in solitary and melancholy circumstances, at his lodgings in Old Bond-street. There is something peculiarly sad in the death of a merry man. One thinks of Yorick—' Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? ' We may well apply to Sterne — since he applied them to himself— tlie mournful words, ' Alas, poor Yorick ! ' Dr Dibdin found, in tlie possession of Mr James Atkinson, an eminent medical practitioner at York, a very curious picture, done rather coarsely in oil, representing two figures in the characters of quack doctor and mountebank on a stage, with an indication of populace looking on. An inscription, to which Mr Atkinson appears to have given entire credence, represented the doctor as Mr T. Brydges, and the mountebank as Lawrence Sterne ; and the tradi- tion was that each had painted the other. It seems hardly conceivable that a parish priest of Yorkshire in the middle of the eighteenth century should have consented to be enduriugly presented under the guise and character of a stage mounte- bank ; but we must remember how much he was at all times the creature and the victim of whim and drollery, and how little control his profes- sion and calling ever exercised over him. Mr Atkinson, an octogenarian, told Dibdin that his father had been acquainted with Sterne, and he had thus acquired many anecdotes of the whims and crotchets of the far-famed sentimental traveller, Amongst other things whicJi Dibdin 387 LAWRENCE STERNS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. BURNING OF TWO HERETICS. loiirued liere was the fiict that Sterne possessed the talent of au amateur draughtsman, and was fond of exercising his pencil. In our copy of the picture in question, albeit it is necessarily given BUVDOES AND STEHNE. on a greatly reduced scale, it will readily be observed that the face of Sterne wears the charac- teristic comicality which might be expected. BURNING OF TWO IIEllETICS. On Wednesday, the 18th of March 1611-12, one Bartholomew Lcgat was burnt at Smithfield, for maintaining thirteen heretical (Arian) opinions concerning the divinity of Christ. It was at the instance of the king, himself a keen controver- sialist, that the bishops, in consistory assembled, tried, and condemned this man. The lawyers doubted if there were any law for burning here- tics, remarking that the executious for religion under Elizabeth were ' done de facto and not de jure.' Chamberlain, however, thought th6 King would ' adventure to burn Legat with a good conscience.' And adventure he did, as we see, taking self-sufficiency of opinion for conscience, as has been so often done before and since. Nor did he stop there, for on the 11th of April fol- lowing, ' another miscreant hei-etic,' named Wil- liam Wightman, was burnt at Lichfield. We learn that Legat declared his contempt for all ecclesiastical government, and refused all favour. He ' said little, but died obstinately.' King .James had no mean powers as a polemic. He could argue down heretics and papists to the admiration (not wholly insincere) of his courtiers. 388 It was scarcely fair that he should have had so powerful an ally as the executioner to close the argument. It is startling to observe the frequency of bloodshed in this reign for matters of opinion. As an example— on the"Whitsun-eve of the year 1012, four Eoman Catholic priests, who had pre- viously been ' twice banished, but would take no warning ' (such is the cool i^hrase of Chamber- lain), were hanged at Tyburn. It is remarked, as a fault of some of the officials, that, being very confident at the gallows, they were allowed to ' talk their full ' to the assembled crowd, amongst whom were several of the nobility, and others, both ladies and gentlemen, in coaches. THE OMNIBUS TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. It may appear strange, but the omnibus was known in France two centuries ago. Carriages on hire had already been long established in Paris : coaches, by the hour or by the day, were let out at the sign of St Fiacre ; but the hire Avas too expensive for the middle classes. In 1662, a royal decree of Louis XIV. authorized the establish- ment of a line of twopence-halfpenny omnibuses, or carosses a cinq sou.f, by a company, with the Duke de Eoanes and two marquises at its head, and the gentle Pascal among the shareholders. The decree expressly stated that these coaches, of which there were originally seven, each con- THE OMNIBUS TWO HUNDRED YEAES AGO. MAECH 18. INTRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. tainiug eight places, slioulcl run at fixed lioura, full or empty, to and from certain extreme quar- ters of Paris, ' for the benefit of a great number of persons ill provided for, as persons engaged in lawsuits, infirm people, and others, -nho have not the means to ride in chaise or carriage, which cannot be hired under a pistole, or a couple of crowns a day.' The public inauguration of the new conveyances took place on the 18th of March 1662, at seven o'clock in the morning, and was a grand and gay affair. Three of the coaches started from the Porte St Antoine, and four from the Luxembourg. Previous to their setting out, two commissaries of the Chatelet, in legal robes, four guards of the grand provost, half a score of city archers, and as many cavalry, drew up in front of the peojile. The commissaries delivered an address upon the advantages of the twopence-halfpenny carriages, exhorted the riders to observe good order, and then, turning to the coachmen, covered the body of each with a long blue frock, with the arms of the King and the city showily embroidered on the front. With this badge off drove the coachmen ; but throughout the day, a provost- guard rode in each carriage, and infantry and cavalry, here and there, proceeded along the requisite lines, to keep them clear. There are two accounts of the reception of the novelty. Sanval, in his Antiquities of Paris, states the carriages to have been pursued with the stones and hisses of the populace, but the truth of this report is doubted ; and the account given by Madame Perrier, the sister of the great Pascal, describing the public joy which she witnessed on the appearance of these low-priced conveyances, in a letter written three days after, is better entitled to credit ; unless the two accounts may relate to the reception by the people in difi'erent parts of the line. For a while all Paris strove to ride in these omnibuses, and some stood impatiently to gaze at those who had succeeded better than themselves. The two- pence-halfpenny coach was the event of the day ; even the Grand Monarque tried a trip in one at St Germains, and the actors of the Marais played the Intricjue des Carosses a Cinq Sous, in their joyous theatre. The wealthier classes seem to have taken possession of them for a con- siderable time; and it is singular that when they ceased to be fashionable, the poorer classes would have notliing to do with them, and so the speculation failed. The system reappeared in Paris in 1827, with this inscription placed upon the sides of the vehicles : j^nterprise cjenerale des Omnibus. In the Monthly Magazine for 1829, we read : ' The Omnibus is a long coach, carrying fifteen or eighteen people, all inside. Of these carriages, there were aljout half a dozen some months ago, and they have been augmented since ; their profits are said to have repaid the outlay within the first year ; the proprietors, among whom is Lafitte, tlie banker, are making a large revenue out of Parisian sous, and speculation is still alive.' The next item in the history of the omnibus is of a difi'erent cast. In the struggle of the Three Days of July 1830, the accidental upset of an omnibus suggested the employment of the whole class of vehicles for the forming of a barricade. The help thus given was important, and so it came to pass that this new kind of coach had some- thing to do in the banishing of an old dynasty. The omnibus was readily transplanted to London. Mr Shillibeer, in his evidence before the Board of Health, stated that, on July 4, 1829, he started the first pair of omnibuses in the metropolis, from the Bank of England to the Yorkshire Stingo, New Eoad. Each of Shilli- beer's vehicles carried twenty-two passengers inside, but only the driver outside; each omnibus was drawn by three horses abreast, the fare was one shilling for the whole journey, and sixpence for half the distance, and for some time the passengers were provided with periodicals to read on the way. The first conductors were two sons of British naval officers, who were succeeded by young men in velveteen liveries. The first omnibuses were called ' Shillibeers,' and the name is common to this day in New York. The omnibus was adopted in Amsterdam in 1839 ; and it has since been extended to all parts of the civilized world. INTRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. March 18th 1718, Lady Mary "VVortley Mon- tague, at Belgrade, causecl her infant son to be in- oculated with the virus of small-pox, as a means of warding off the ordinary attack of that disease. As a preliminary to the introduction of the prac- tice into England, the fact was one of import- ance ; and great credit will always be due to this lady for the heroism which guided her on the occasion. I.ADV MARY WORTLKV IMONTAGl'lC. At the time when Dr Sydenham published the improved edition of his work on fevers, in 1675, small-pox appears to have been the most widely diffused and the most fatal of all the pestilential diseases, and was also the most frequently cpide- 389 IMRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. TIIE BOOK OF DAYS. INTEODUCTION OF INOCTJIATION. mic. The heating- and sweatini; plan of treat- ment prevaileil nuivorsallj'. Instead of a free cnrrent of air and roolinef diet, the paficut was kept in a room with closed windows and in a bed with closed curtains. Cordials and other stimu- lants were given, and tlie disease assumed a character of malignity which increased the mor- tality to a frightful extent. The regimen which Dr Sydenham recommended was directly the reverse, and was gradually assented to and adopted by most of the intelligent practitioners. Inoculation of the small-pox is traditionally reported to have been practised in some mode in China and Hindustan ; and Dr Ivussell, who resided for some years at Aleppo, states, as the I'esult of his inquiries, that it had been in use among the Arabians from ancient times ; but he remarks, that no mention is made of it by any of the Arabian medical writers known in Europe. {Phil. Trans. Iviii. 112.) None of the travellers in Turkey have noticed the practice previous to the eighteenth century. The first accounts are by Pylarini and Timoui, two Italian physicians, who, in the early part of the eighteenth century, sent information of the practice to the English medical professors, by whom, however, no notice was taken of it.* It was in the course of her residence in Tur- key, with her husband Mr Edward AVortley Montague, the British ambassador there, that Lady Mary made her famous experiment in in- oculation. Her own experience of small-pox had led her, as she acknowledged, to observe the Turkish practice of inocvdatiou with peculiar interest. Her only brother, Lord Kingston, when under age, but already a husband and a father, had been carried ofi' by small-pox ; and she herself had suflered severely from the disease, which, though it had not left any marks on her face, had destroyed her fine eyelashes, and had given a fierceness of expression to her eyes which impaired their beauty. The hope of obviating much suffering and saving many lives induced hei- to form the resolution of introducing the practice of inoculation into her native coun- try. In one of her letters, dated Adrianople, April 1st, 1717, she gives the following account of the observations which she had made on the pro- ceedings of the Turkish female practitioners. ' The small-pox, so general and so fatal amongst us, is entirely harmless by the invention of in- grafting, which is the term they give it. There is a set of old women who make it their business to perform the operation every autumn, in the month of September, when the great heat is abated. People send to one another to know if any one has a mind to have the small-pox. They make parties for this purpose, and when they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together), the old woman comes with a nut-shell full of the matter of the best sort of small-pox, and asks you what vein you please to have opened. She imme- diately rips open that you offer to her with a large needle (which gives you no more pain than a common scratch), and puts into the vein as much * The communications of the two Italian physicians are recorded in the abridged edition of the Philosophical Transactions, vol. v. p. 370. 390 matter as can lie upon the head of her needle, and after that binds up the little wound with a hollow bit of shell, and in this manner opens four or five veins The children or young patients play together all the rest of the day, and are in perfect health till the eighth. Then the fever begins to seize them, and they keep their beds two days, very seldom three. They have very rarely above twenty or thirty on their faces, which never mark, and in eight days' time they are as well as they were before their illness. Where they are wounded there remain running sores during' the distemper, which, I don't doubt, is a great relief to it. Every year thousands undergo the operation ; and the French ambas- sador says pleasantly that they take the small- pox here by way of diversion, as they take the waters in other countries. There is no example of any one that has died of it ; and you may believe me that I am well satisfied of the safety of this experiment, since I intend to try it upon my dear little son. I am patriot enough to try to bring this usefid invention into fashion in England.' While her husband, for the convenience of attending to his diplomatic duties, resided at Pera, Lady Mary occupied a house at Belgrade, a beautiful village surrounded by woods, about fourteen miles from Constantinople, and there she carried out her intention of having her son inoculated. On Sunday, the 23rd of March 1718, a note addressed to her husband at Pera contained the following passage : ' The boy was ingrafted on Tuesday, and is at this time singing and playing, very impatient for his supper. I pray God my next may give you as good an account of him. I cannot ingraft the girl : her nurse has not had the small-pox.' Lady Mary Wortley Montague, after her return from the East, elTectively, though gradually and slowly, accomplished her benevolent inten- tion of rendering the malignant disease as com- paratively harmless in her own country as she had found it to be in Turkey. It was an arduous, a diificiilt, and, for some years, a thankless under- taking. She had to encou.nter the pertinacious opposition of the medical professors, who rose against her almost to a man, predicting the most disastrous consequences ; but, supported firmly by the Princess of Wales (afterwards Queen Caroline) she gained many supporters among the nobility and the middle classes. In 1721 she had her own daughter inoculated. Four chief physicians were deputed by the government to watch the performance of the operation, which was quite successful ; but the doctors were apparently so desirous that it should not succeed, that she never allowed the child to be alone with them for a single instant, lest it should in some way suffer from their malignant interference. Afterwards four condemned criminals were inocu- lated, and this test having proved successful, the Princess of Wales had two of her own daughters subjected to the operation with perfect safety. While the young princesses were recovering, a pamphlet was published which denounced the new practice as unlawful, as an audacious act of presumption, and as forbidden in Scripture by the express command : ' Thou shalt not tempt INTRODUCTION OP INOCULATION. MARCH 19. JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUEGnE. the Lord thy God.' Some of the nobility followed the example of the Princess, and the practice gradually extended among the middle classes. The fees at first were so expensive as to preclude the lower classes from the benefit of the new discovery. Besides the opposition of the medical professors, the clergy denounced the innovation from their pulpits as an impious attempt to take the issues of life and death out of the hands of Providence. For instance, on the 8th of July 1722, a sermon was preached at St Andrew's, Holborn, in London, by the Eev. Edward Massey, Lecturer of St Albau's, Wood-street, 'against the dangerous and sinful practice of inoculation.' The sermon was published, and the text is Job ii. 7 : ' So went Satan forth from the presence of the Lord, and smote Job with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto his crown.' The preacher says : ' Eemembering our text, I shall not scruple to call that a diabolical operation which usurps an authority founded neither in the laws of nature or religion ; which tends, in this case, to antici- pate and banish Providence out of the world, and promote the increase of vice and immorality.' The preacher further observes that ' the good of mankind, the seeking whereof is one of the fundamental laws of nature, is, I know, pleaded in defence of the practice ; but I am at a loss to find or understand how that has been or can be promoted hereby ; for if by good be meant the preservation of life, it is, in the first place, a consideration whether life be a good or not.' In addition to denunciations such as these from high E laces, the common people were taught to regard lady Mary with abhorrence, and to hoot at her, as an unnatural mother who had risked the lives of her own children. So annoying was the opposition and the obloquy which Lady Mary had to endure, that she con- fessed that, during the four or five years which immediately succeeded her return to England, she often felt a disposition to regret having en- gaged in the patriotic undertaking, and declared that if she had foreseen the vexation and persecu- tion which it brought upon her she would never have attempted it. In fact, these annoyances seem at one time to have produced a depression of spirits little short of morbid ; for in 1725 she wrote to her sister Lady Mar, ' I have such a complication of things both in my head and my heart, that I do not very well know what I do ; and if I cannot settle my brains, your next news of me will be that I am locked up by my relations. In the meantime I lock myself up, and keep my distraction as private as possible.' It is remarkable that Voltaire should have been the first writer in France to recommend the adop- tion of inoculation to the inhabitants of that country. In 1727 he directed the attention of the public to the subject. He pointed out to the ladies especially the value of the practice, by informing them that the females of Circassia and Georgia had by this means preserved the beauty for which they have for centuries been distin- guished. He stated that they inoculated their children at as early an age as six months ; and observed that most of the 20,000 inhabitants of Paris who died of small-pox in 1720 would pro- bably have been saved if inoculation had been then in use. Dr Gregory has observed, that the first ten years of the progress of inoculation in England were singularly unfortunate. It fell into_ bad hands, was tried on the most unsuitable subjects, and was practised in the most injudicious manner. By degrees the regular practitioners began to patronise and adopt it, the opposition of the clergy ceased, and the public became convinced of the fact that the disease in the new form was scarcely ever fatal, while they were aware from experience that when it occurred naturallj', one person died out of about every four. A new era in the progress of inoculation com- menced when the Small-pox Hospital was founded by voluntary subscription in 1746, for the exten- sion of the practice among the poor of London. Dr Mead, who had been present when the four criminals were inoculated, wrote a treatise in favour of it in 1748, and the College of Physi- cians published a strong recommendation of it in 1754. Mr Sutton and his two sons, from about 1763, became exceedingly popular as inoculators ; in 1775 a dispensary was opened in London for gratuitous inoculation of the poor, and Mr Dims- dale at the same time practised with extraordinary success. The Small-pox Hospital haying adopted the plan of promiscuous inoculation of out- patients, carried it on to an immense extent between 1790 and 1800. In 1796, Dr Jenuer announced his discovery of vaccination, and inoculation of the small-pox was gradually super- seded by inoculation of the cow-pox. On the 23d of July 1840, the practice of inocu- lation of the small-pox was prohibited by an act of the British Parliament, 3 and 4 Vict. c. 29. This statute, entitled 'An Act to Extend the Prac- tice of Vaccination,' enacted that any person who shall produce or attempt to produce by inocula- tion of variolous matter the disease of small-pox, shall be liable on conviction to be imprisoned in the common gaol or house of correction for any term not exceeding one month.' MARCH 19. St Joseph, husband of the Virgin Mary, 1st century. St Alemund, of England, martyr, about 819. iJo^re.—Jolin Astruc, eminent French physician, 1684, Sauve ; the Rev. Edward Bickersteth, writer on religious subjects, 1786, Kirby Lonsdale. i)tVcZ.— Alexander Severus, murdered, a.d. 235; Spen- cer Compton, Earl of Northampton, 1643, killed at Hopton Heath; Bishop Thomas Ken, \1 \\ , Frome ; Pope Clement II., 17:21 ; Nicholas Ilawksmoor, architect, pupil of AYren, 1736; Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, 1786, Greenwich Hospital; Stephen Storace, musical composer, 1796, London; John Duke of Roxburghe, bibliophilist, 1804; Sir Joseph Banks, naturalist, forty-two years P.K.S., 1820, Spring- grove, Middlesex; Tiiomas William Daniell, R.A., painter of Oriental scenery, 1840. JOHN DUKE or ROXBURGHE. John Duke of lloxburghe, remarkable for the magnificent collection of books which wealth and taste enabled kirn to form, and to whom a vencra- 391 JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUKGHE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. JOHN DUKE OF KOXBURGHE. tive reference is made in the name of the Eox- burghe Chib, died at the age of sixty-four. His Grace's library in St James's Square comprised upwards of ton thousand distinct artich^s, tlie richest department being early Englisli literature. It cost its noble coUcctor forty years, but pro- bablj' a moderate sum of moncj-, in comparison ■nith what was realized by it when, after his death, it was brought to the hammer. On tliat occasion, a single book — Boccaccio's Decamcronc, printed at A'enice in 1171 — was sold at £2.2G0, the highest j)rice known to have ever been given for a book. Dr Dibdiu's account of the sale, or as he chooses to call it, ihe fight, which took place in May IS 12, is in an exaggerative style, and extremely amiising. ' It would seem,' says the reverend biblio- maniac, ' as if the year of our Lord 1811 was destined, in the annals of the book auctions, to be calm and cjuiescent, as a prelude and contrast to the tremendous explosion or contest which, in the succeeding year, was to rend asunder the bibliomaniacal elements. It is well known that Mr George Niehol had long prepared the cata- logue of that extraordinary collection ; and a sort of avaut-couricr or picquet guard preceded the march of the whole army, in the shape of a preface, privately circulated among the friends of the author. The publication of a certain work, ycleped the Bihliomania, had also probably stirred up the metal and hardened the sinews of the contending book-knights. At length the hour of battle arrived. . . . For two-anJ-forty succes- sive days— with the exception only of Sundays — was the voice and hammer of Mr Evans heard, with equal eflicacy, in the dining-room of the late duke, which had been appropriated to the vendition of the books ; and within that same space (some thirty-five feet by twenty) were such deeds of valour performed, and such feats of book-heroism achieved, as had never been pre- viously beheld, and of which the like will pro- bably never be seen again. The shouts of the victors and the groans of the vanquished stunned and appalled you as j'ou entered. The throng and pi-ess, both of idle spectators and deter- mined bidders, was unprecedented. A sprink- ling of Caxtons and De u ordes marked tlie first day ; and these were obtained at high, but, com- paratively with tlie subsequent sums given, moderate prices. Theology, jurisjii'udence, phllo- sr)j)ht], and fhllology, chiefly marked the earlier days of this tremendous contest ; and occasion- ally, during these days, there was much stirring up of courage, and many hard and heavy blows were interchanged ; and the combatants may be said to have completely wallowed themselves in the conflict I At length came foelvi], Latin, Italian, and French ; a steady fight yet continued to be fought : victory seemed to hang in doubt- ful scales — sometimes on the one, sometimes on the other side of Mr Evans — who preserved throughout (as it was his bounden duty to pre- serve) a uniform, impartial, and steady course ; and who may be said, on that occasion, if not to have " rode the whirlwind," at least to have " directed the storm." At length came English POETRY ! ! and with that came the tug and trial of war : Greek met Greek ; in other words, 392 grandee was opposed to grandee ; and the indo- mitable Atticus was compelled to retire, stunned by the repeated blows upon his helmet. The lance dropped from his liand, and a swimming darkness occasionally skimmed his view ; for on tliat day, the Waterloo among book-battles, many a knight came far and wide from his retirement, and many an unfledged combatant left his father's castle to partake of tlie glory of sueli a contest. Among these knights from a " far conn tree" no one shot his arrows with a more deadly effect than Astiachus ! But it was re- served for Eomulus to reap the greatest victoi-ies in that poetic contest ! He fought with a choice body-guard : and the combatants seemed amazed at the perseverance and energy with which that body-guard dealt their death-blows around them ! ' Dramatic Poetri/ followed ; what might be styled rare and early pieces connected with our ancient poetry ; but the combat now took a more tranquil turn: as after " a smart brush" for an early Shahsjoeare or two, Atticus and Coriolanus, with a few well-known dramatic aspirants, ob- tained almost unmolested possession of the field. ' At this period, to keep up our important metaphor, the great Roxhnrghe f/rt?/ of battle had been somewhere lialf gone through, or decided. There was no disposition, however, on either side to relax from former efforts ; when (prepare for something terrific!) the Romances made their appearance ; and just at this crisis it was that more blood was spilt, and more ferocity exhibited, than had ever been previously wit- nessed.' At length came the Yahlarfer Boccaccio, of which it may be remarked that it had been acquired by the Duke's father for a hundred guineas. It was supposed to be the only fault- less copy of the edition in existence. ' I have a perfect recollection,' saysDibdin, ' of this notorious volume, while in the library of the late Duke. It had a faded yellow morocco bind- ing, and was a sound rather than a fine copy. The expectations formed of the probable price for which it would be sold were excessive ; yet not so excessive as the price itself turned out to be. The marked champions were pretty well known beforehand to be the Earl Spencer, the Marquis of Blandford (now Duke of Marl- borough), aiul the Duke of Devonshire. Such a rencontre, such a " shock of fight," naturally begot uncommon curiosity. My friends. Sir Egerton Bridges, ]\Ir Lang, and Mr G. H. Free- ling, did me the kindness to breakfast with me on the morning of the sale— and upon the con- clusion of the repast. Sir Egerton's carriage con- veyed us from Kensington to St James's Square. -The morning lowei'ed, And heavily with clouds came on the day — Big with the fate of . . . and of ... . In fact the rain fell in torrents, as we lighted from the carriage and rushed with a sort of im- petuosity to gain seats to view the contest. The room was crowded to excess ; and a sudden darkness which came across gave rather an addi- tional interest to the scene. At length the JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUEGIIE. MAECII 19. PERSONAL DEFECTS OVEBCOME. moment of sale arrived. Evans prefaced t'.ie putting up of the article by an appropriate ora- tion, in which he expatiated upon its excessive rarity, and concluded by informing the company of the regret and even " anguish of heart " ex- pressed by Mr Van Praet [librarian to the Emperor Napoleon] that such a treasure was not to be found in the imperial collection at Paris. Silence followed the address of Mr Evans. On his right hand, leaning against the wall, stood Earl Spencer : a little "lower down, and standing at right angles with his lordship, appeared the Marquis of JBlaudford. Lord Althorp stood a little backward to the right of his ftither, Earl Spencer. Such was " the ground taken up " by the adverse hosts. The honour of firing the first shot was due to a gentleman of Shropshire, un- used to this species of warfare, and who seemed to recoil from the reverberation of the report himself had made ! — " One hundred guineas," he exclaimed. Again a pause ensued ; but anon the biddings rose rapidly to 500 guineas. Hitherto, however, it was evident that the firing was but masked and desultory. At length all random shots ceased ; and the champions before named stood gallantly up to each other, resolving not to flinch from a trial of their respective strengths. " A thousand guineas " were bid by Earl Spencer — to which the marquis added " ten." You might have heard a pin drop. All eyes were turned — all breathing well-nigh stopped — every sword was put home within its scabbard— and not a piece of steel was seen to move or to glitter, except that which each of these champions brandished in his valorous hand. See, see ! — they parry, they lunge, they bet : yet their strength is undiminished, and no thought of yielding is entertained by either. I'u-o thousand j^ounds are offered by the marquis. Then it was that Earl Spencer, as a prudent general, began to think of a useless cfl^usion of blood and expenditure of ammunition — seeing that his adversary was as re- solute and " fresh" as at the onset. Eor a quarter of a minute he paused : when my Lord Althorp advanced one step forvrard, as if to supply his father with another spear for the purpose of re- newing the contest. Ilis countenance was marked by a fixed determination to gain the prize — if prudence, in its most commanding form, and with a frown of unusual intensity of expres- sion, had not made him desist. The father and son for a few seconds converse apart ; and the biddings are resumed. " Two thousand two hun- dred and fifty jtounds" said Lord Spencer. The spectators were now absolutely electrified. The marquis qiiietly adds his usual " /. arrayed in a red cope, pi'oceeded to consecrate them by a prayer, beginning, ' I conjure thee, thou creature of flowers and branches, in the name of God the Father,' &c. This was to dis- place the devil or his influences, if he or they should chance to be lurking in or about the branches. He then prayed — 'We humbly be- seech thee that thy truth may [here a sign of 396 the cross] sanctify tliis creature of flowers and branches, and slips of palms, or boughs of trees, which we ofler,' &c. Tlio ilowcrs and branches were then fumed M'ith frankincense from censers, after which there Avere prayers and sprinklings with holy water. The flowers and branches being then distributed, the procession commenced, in which the most conspicuous figures were two priests bearing a crucifix. When the procession had moved tlirough the town, it returned to church, where mass was performed, the communion taken by the priests, and the branches and flowers ofl'ered at the altar. In the extreme desire manifested under the ancient religion to realize all the particulars of Christ's passion, it was customary in some places to introduce into the procession a wooden figure of an ass, mounted on wheels, with a wooden human figure riding upon it, to represent the Saviour. Previous to starting, a priest declared before the people who was here represented, and what he had done for them ; also, how he had come into Jerusalem thus mounted, and how the people had strewn the ground as he went with palm branches. Then it set out, and the multitude threw their wil- low branches before it as it passed, till it Mas sometimes a clitEculty for it to move ; two priests singing psalms before it, and all the people shouting in great excitement. Not less eager were the strewers of the willow branches to gather them up again after the ass had j)assed over them, for these tuigs were deemed an infallible protection against storms and lightning during the ensuing year. Another custom of the day was to cast cakes from the steeple of the parish church, the boys scramb- ling for them below, to the great amusement of the bystanders. Lat- terly, an angel appears to have been introduced as a figure in the pro- cession : in the accounts of St An- drew Hubbard's parish in London, under 1520, there is an item of eightpence for the hire of an angel to serve on this occasion. Angels, however, could fall in more ways than one, for, in 1537, the hire was only fourpence. Crosses of palm were made and blessed by the priests, and sold to the people as safeguards against disease. In Cornwall, the peasantry carried ' ' these crosses to ' our lady of Nants- well,' Avhere, after a gift to the priest, they were allowed to throw the crosses into the well, when, if they floated, it was argued that the thrower would outlive the year ; if they sunk, that he would not. It was a saying that he who had not a palm in his hand on Palm Sunday, would have his hand cut oil". After the Eeformation, 1536, Henry VIII. declared the carrying of palms on this day to be one of those ceremonies not to be contemned or PALM SUNDAY. MARCH 20. PALM SUNDAY. dropped. The custom was kept up by the clergy till the reigu of Edward ^^I., when it was left to the voluntary observance of the people. Fuller, who wrote in the ensuing age, speaks of it respectfully, as ' in memory of the receiving of Christ into llierusalem a little before his death, and that we may have the same desire to receive him into our hearts.' It has continued down to a recent period, if not to the present day, to bo customary in many parts of England to go a- fahnincj on the Saturday before Palm Sunday ; that is, young persons go to the woods for slips of willow, which seems to be the tree chiefly em- ployed in England as a substitute for the palm, on which account it often receives the latter name. They return with slips in their hats or button-holes, or a sprig in their mouths, bearing the branches in their hands. Not many j'cars ago, one stall-woman in Covent-garden market supplied the article to a few customers, many of whom, perhaps, scarcely knew what it meant. Slips of the willow, with its velvety buds, are still stuck up on this day in some rural parish churches in England. The ceremonies of Easter at Home — of what is there called Holy Week — commence on Palm Sunday.* To witness these rites, there are seldom fewer than ten thousand foreigners assembled in the city, a large proportion of them English and American, and of course Protestant. During Holy AYeek, the shops are kept open, and concerts and other amusements are given ; but theatrical performances are forbidden. The chief external differences are in the churches, where altars, crucifixes, and pictures are genei'ally put in mourning. About nine on Palm Sunday morning, St Peter's having received a great crowd of people, all in their best attire, one of the papal regiments enters, and forms a clear passage up the central aisle. Shortly afterwards the ' noble guard,' as it is called, of the Pope — a superior body of men ■ — takes its place, and the corps diplomatique and distinguished ecclesiastics arrive, all taking their respective seats in rows in the space behind the high altar, which is draped and fitted up with carpets for the occasion. The Pope's chief sacris- tan now brings in an armful of so-called palms, and places them on the altar. These are stalks about three feet long, resembling a m alking-caue dressed up in scraps of yellow straw ; they are sticks with bleached palm leaves tied on them in a tasteful but quite artificial way. The prepara- tion of these substitutes for the palm is a matter of heritage, with which a story is connected. When Sextus V. (1585 — 90) undertook to erect in the open space in front of St Peter's, the tall Egyptian obelisk which formerlj^ adorned Nero's circus, he forbade any one to speak on pain of death, lest the attention of the workmen should be diverted from their arduous task. A naval oflicer of StKemo, who happened to be present, foreseeing that the ropes would take fire, cried out to ' apply water.' He was immediately arrested, and con- ducted before the pontiff. As the cry had saved the ropes, Sextus could not enforce the decree, and to shew his munificence he offered the transgressor * Tlie Holy Week of 1862 is described in this work by a gentleman who witnessed the ceremonies. his choice of a reward. Those who have ob- seiwed the great abundance of palms which grow in the neighbourhood of St Eemo, between Nice and Genoa, will not be surprised to hear that the wish of the officer was to enjoy the privilege of supplying the pontifical ceremonies with x^alnis. The Pope granted him the exclusive right, and it is still enjoyed by one of his faniil}'. At 9.30 a burst of music is heard from the choir, the soldiers present arms, all are on the tip- toe of expectation, and a procession enters from a side chapel near the doorway. All eyes are turned in this direction, and the Pope is seen borne up the centre of the magnificent basilica in his sedia gestatoria. This chair of state is fixed on two long poles covered with red velvet, and the bearers are twelve officials, six before and six behind. They bear the ends of the poles on their shouldei's, and walk so steadily as not to cause any uneasy motion. On this occasion, and always keeping in mind that the church is in mourning, the Pope is plainly attired, and his mitre is white and Avithout ornament. There are also wanting the Jfabelli, or large fans of feathers, which are carried on Easter Sunday. Thus slowly advancing, and by the movement of his hand giving his benediction to the bowing multi- tude, the Pope is carried to the front of his throne at the further end of the church. De- scending from his sedia gcstatoria, his Holiness, after some intermediate ceremonies and singing, proceeds to bless the palms, which are brought to him from the altar. This blessing is effected by his reading certain prayers, and incens- ing the palms three times. An embroidered apron is now placed over the Pope's knees, and the cardinals in turn receive a palm from him, kissing the palm, his right hand, and knee. The bishops kiss the palm which they receive and his right knee ; and the mitred abbots and others kiss the palm and his foot. Palms are now more freely distributed by sacristans, till at length they reach those among the lay nobility Avho desire to have one. The ceremony concludes by reading additional praj'ers, and more particularly by chanting and singing. The Benedictus qui vcnit is verj' finely executed. In conclusion, low mass is performed by one of the bishops present, and the Pope, getting into his sedia gcs(atoi-ia, is carried with the same gravity back to the chapel whence he issued, and which communicates with his residence in the Vatican. The entire cere- monial lasts about three hours, but many, to see it, endure the fatigue of standing five to six hours. Among the strangers present, ladies alone are favoured with seats, but they must be in dark dresses, and with black veils on their heads instead of bonnets. There exists at Caistor, in Lincolnshire, a Palm Sunday custom of a very quaint nature, and which could not have been kept up in modern times if it had not been connected with a tenure of property. A person representing the pro- prietor of the estate of Proughton comes mto the porch of Caistor Church while the first lesson is reading, and three times cracks a gad-whip, which he then folds neatly up. Ketiring for the moment to a seat in the church, he must come 397 PALM SUNDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DEATH OF HENRY THE FOUETH. during the second lesson to tlie minister, with the whip hekl upright, and at its upper end a purse with thirty pieces of silver contained in it ; then he must kneel before the clerg3-man, wave the whip thrice round his head, and so remain till the end of the les- son, after which he retires. The precise origin of this custom has not been ascer- tained. Wc can see in the purse and its thirty pieces of silver a reference to the mis- deeds of Judas Iscariot ; but why the use of a whip ? Of this the only explanation which conjecture has hitherto been able to supply, refers us back to the ancient custom of the Procession of the Ass, before described. Of that procession it is supposed that the gad- whip of Caistor is a sole-sur- viving relic. The term gad- whip has been a puzzle to English antiquaries ; but a gad [goad] for driving horses, was in use in Scotland so late- ly as the days of Burns, who alludes to it. A portraiture of the gad-whip employed on a recent occasion, with the purse at its upper end, is here pre- sented.* ^ ""^ THE GAD-WniP. i?or».— Publius Ovidius Naso, B.C. 43 ; Bishop Thomas Morton, 1564 ; Napoleon, Duke of lleichstadt, 1811. Died. — The Emperor Publius Gallienus, a.d. 2G8, assassinated at Milan ; lienry IV. King of Eno-land' 1413, Westminster ; Ernest, Duke of Lmieburg, fell • Bishop Samuel Parker, 1687, Oxford ; Sir Isaac^Newtonl philosopher, 1727, Kensington; Frederick, Prince of Wales, 1751, Leicester House; Gilbert West, classical scholar, 1756, Chelsea; Firmin Abauzit, Genevese theo- logical writer, 1767 ; Lord Chief Justice, Earl of Mans- field, 1793; H. D. Inglis {Derivent Conway), traveller, 1835 ; Mademoiselle Mars, celebrated French comic actress, 1847. THE DEATH OF HENRY THE FOURTH. AMBIGUOUS PROPHECIES. Bobert Fabian, alderman and sheriffof London, a man of learning, a poet, and historian, in his Concordance of Stories (a history commencinp- with the fabulous Brute, and ending in the reio-n of Henry VII.), was the first to relate the since often-quoted account of the circumstances attend- ing the death of the fourth Henry. ' In this year ' [1412], says the worthy citizen, ' and twentieth day of the month of November, was a great council holden at the Whitefriars of London, by the which it was, among other things, concluded, that for the King's great journey he intended to take in visiting the Holy Sepulchre of our Lord, certain galleys of war should be made, and other purveyance concerning the same journey. * Archffiological Journal, 1849, p. 245. 398 ' Whereupon, all hasty and possible speed was made, but after the feast of Christmas, while he Avas making his prayers at St Edward's shrine, to take there his leave, and so to speed him on his journey, he became so sick, that such as were about him feared that he would have died right there ; wherefore they, for his comfort, bare him into the Abbot's place, and lodged him in a cham- ber; and there, upon a pallet, laid him before the fire, where he lay in great agony a certain of time. ' At length, when he was come to himself, not knowing where he was, freyned [inquired] of such as then were about him, what place that was ; the which shewed to him. that it belonged unto the Abbot of Westminster ; and for he felt himself so sick, he commanded to ask if that chamber had any special name. Whereunto it was answered, that it was named Jerusalem. Then said the king — " Loving be to the Father of Heaven, for now I know I shall die in this chamber, according to the prophecy of me before said that I should die in Jerusalem ;" and so after, he made himself ready, and died shortly after, upon the day of St Cuthbert, or the twen- tieth day of March 1413." This story has been frequently told with varia- tions of places and persons ; among the rest, of Gerbert, Pope Sylvester II., who died in 1003. Gerbert was a native of France, but, being im- bued with a strong thirst for knowledge, he pur- sued his studies at Seville, then the great seat of learning among the Moors of Spain. Becoming an eminent mathematician and astronomer, ho introduced the use of the Arabic numerals to the Christian nations of Europe ; and, in consequence, acquired the name and fame of a most potent necromancer. So, as the tale is told, Gerbert, being very anxious to inquire into the future, but at the same time determined not to be cheated, by what Macbeth terms the juggling fiends, long considered how he could efi'ect his purpose. At last he hit upon a plan, which he put into execution by making, under certain favourable planetary conjunctions, a brazen head, and en- dowing it with speech. But still dreading diabolical deception, he gave the head power to utter only two words— plain ' yes ' and ' no.' Now, there were two all-important questions, to which Gerbert anxiously desired responses. The first, prompted by ambition, regarded his advancement to the papal chair ; the second re- ferred to the length of his life, — for Gerbert, in his pursuit of magical knowledge, had entered into certain engagements with a certain party who shall be nameless ; which rendered it very desirable that his life should reach to the longest possible span, the reversion, so to speak, being a very uncomfortable prospect. Accordingly Ger- bert asked the head, ' Shall I become Pope P ' The head replied, 'Yes!' The next question was, ' Shall I die before I chant mass in Jeru- salem?' The answer was, 'No!' Of course, Gerbert had previously determined, that if the answer should be in the negative, he would take good care never to go to Jerusalem. But the certain party, previously hinted at, is not so easily cheated. Gerbert became Pope Sylvester, DEATH OP HENEY THE FOTTETH. MARCH 20. BIB ISAAC NEWTON. and one day wliile chanting mass in a cliurch at Eorae. found himself suddenly very ill. On making inquiry, he learned that the church he -was tiien in vcaa named Jerusalem. At once, knowing his fate, he made preparations for his approaching end, which took place in a very short time. Malispini relates in his Florentine history that the Emperor Frederick II. had beemvarncd, by a soothsayer, that he would die a violent death in Firenze (Florence). So Frederick avoided Fircnze, and, that there might be no mistake about the matter, he shunned the town of Faenza also. But he thought there was no danger in visiting Firenzuolo, in the Appenines. There he was treacherously murdered in 12.50, by his ille- gitimate son Manfred. Thus, says Malispini, he was unable to prevent the fulfil m ent of the prophecy. The old English chroniclers tell a somewhat similar story of an Earl of Pembroke, who, being informed that he would be slain at "Warwick, solicited and obtained the governorship of Berwick-upon-Tweed ; to the end that he might not have an opportunity of even approaching the fatal district of Warwickshire. But a short time afterwards, the Earl being killed in repel- ling an invasion of the Scots, it was discovered that Barwiek, as it was then pronounced, was the place meant by the quibbling prophet. The period of the death of Henry IV. was one of great political excitement, and consequently highly favourable to the propagation of prophe- cies of all kinds. The deposition of Eichard and usurpation of Henry were said to have been fore- told, many centuries previous, by the enchanter Merlin ; and both parties, during the desolating civil wars that ensued, invented prophecies whenever it suited their purpose. Two prophe- cies of the aTubiguous kind, ' equivocations of the fiend that lies like truth,' are recorded by the historians of the wars of the roses, and noticed by Shakspeare. William de la Pole, first Duke of Sufi"olk, had been warned by a wizard, to beware of water and avoid the tower. So when his fall came, and he was ordered to leave England in three days, he made all haste from London, on his way to France, naturally supposing that the Tower of London, to which traitors were conveyed by water, was the place of danger indicated. On his passage across the CJiannel, however, he was captured by a ship named Nicholas of the Tower, commanded by a man surnamed Walter. Suffolk, asking this captain to be held to ransom, says — ' Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.' Captain. ' And so am I ; my name is Walter Whit- more — How now? why start'st thou? What, doth death affright?' Siiffol/c. ' Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death ; A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by water I should die ; Yet let not this make thee be Idoody-minded, Thy name is Gualtier being rightly soundecL' Of course, the prophecy was fulfilled by Whit- more beheading the Duke. The other instance refers to Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, who is said to have consulted Margery Jourdemayne, the celebrated witch of Eye, with respect to his conduct and fate during the impending conflicts. She told him that he would be defeated and slain at a castle ; but as long as he arrayed his forces and fought in the open field, he would be victorious and safe from harm. Shakspeare represents her familiar spirit saying — ' Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be on the sandy plain Than where castles mounted stand.' After the first battle of St Albans, when the trembling monks crept from their cells to succour the wounded and inter the slain, they found the dead body of Somerset lying at the threshold of a mean alehouse, the sign of which was a castle. And thus, 'Underneath an alehoiise' paltry sign, The Castle, in St Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death.' Cardinal Wolsey, it is said, had been warned to beware of Kingston. And supposing that the town of Kingston was indicated by the person who gave the warning, the cardinal took care never to pass through that town ; preferring to go many miles about, though it lay in the direct road between his palaces of Esher and Hampton Court. But after his fall, when arrested by Sir William Kingston, and taken to the Abbey of Leicester, he said, ' Father Abbot, I am come to leave my bones among you,' for he knew that his end was at hand. SIR ISAAC NEWTOX. It was an equally just and generous thing of Pope to say of Newton, that his life and manners would make as great a discovery of virtue and goodness and rectitude of heart, as his works have done of penetration and the utmost stretch of human knowledge. Assuredly, Sir Isaac was the perfection of philosophic simplicity. His plays in childhood were mechanical experiments. His relaxations in mature life from hard thinking and investigation, were dabblings in ancient chronology and the mysteries of the Apocalypse. The passions of other men, for love, for money, for power, were in him non-existent ; all his energies were devoted to pure study. Sir David Brewster, in his able Life of Nercton, has success- fully defended his character from imputations brought upon it by Flamsteed. He has also, however, printed a letter attributed to Sir Isaac — a love-letter — a love-letter written when he was sixty, proposing marriage to the widow of his friend Sir William Norris. It is quite im- possible for us to believe that the author of the Frincipia ever wrote such a letter, until more decisive proof of the fact can be adduced, and scarcely even then. The subjoined autograph of Sir Isaac is fur- 399 EAKL OF MANSFIELD. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ST BENEDICT. nislicd to \is from an iuoditecl loiter. It pre- cisely resembles one whieli we possess, extracted from" the books of the 3iiut, of which Sir Isaac was master. LOKI) ClIIKf .irSTICK, EARL OF MANSFIKLD. Lord Camiibell. in his Lirex of the Chief Jitslircs, has traced tlie cai-eer of Williani Murray, Earl of Manstleld, with great precision and a good deal of fresh liglit. lie shews ua how he came of a ver}' poor Scotch peer's family, the eleventh of a brood of fourteen children, reared on oat- meal porridge in the old mansion of Scoon, near Perth, which our learned autlior persists in calling a castle, wliile it Avas nominally a palace, but in reality a plain old-fashioned house. One S articular of seme importance in the Chief ustice's history does not seem to have been known to his biographer — that, while the father (David, fifth Viscount Stormont) was a good-for- little man of fashion, the mother, Marjory Scott, •was a woman of ability, who was supposed to have brought into the Stormont family any talent — and it is not little — which it has since exhibited, including that of the illustrious Chief Justice. She came of the Scots, (so thc}" spelt their name) of Scotstarvit, in Fife, a race which produced an eminent patron of literature in Sir John Scot, Director of the Chancers in the time of Charles I., and author of a bitingly clever tract, entitled The Staggering State of Scots Statesmen, which was devoted to the amiable purpose of shewing all the public and domestic troubles that had fallen upon olBcial persons in Scotland from the days of Mary downward. Marjory, Viscountess of Stormont, was the great-granddaiighter of Sir John, whose wife again was of a family of talent, Drummoud of Ilawthornden. In the history of the lineage of intellect we could scarcely find a clearer pretension to ability than what lay at the door of the youth 'William Murray. It is not our business to trace, as Lord Camp- bell has done, the steps by which this j'outh rose at the English bar, attained oHice, prosecuted Scotch peers, his cousins, for treason against King George, became a great parliamentary orator, and the highest criminal judge in the kingdom, and, without political office, was the director of several successive cabinets. We may remark, however, what has hitherto been comparatively slurred, that the Jacobitisni of Murray's family was unquestionable. Ills father was fully expected to join in the insur- rection of 1715, and he was thought to avoid doing so in a way not very creditable to him. An elder brother of "William was in the service of ' the Pretender ' abroad. When Charles Edward, in 1745, came to Perth, he lodged in the house of Lord Stormont, and one of the ladies of the family (sister to the Chief Justice) made his Ho^-al Highness's bed with her own fair hands. After this, the remark of Lovat at his trial to the Solicitor-General, that his mother had been very kind to the Erasers as they marched through Perth, may well be accepted as a simple reference to a matter of fact. The most important point in the life of the Lord Cliief Justice, all things considered, is his 4.00 transplantation to lilngland. Ilis natural destiny was, as Lord Campbell remarks, to have lived the life of an idle younger brother, fishing in the TaJ^ and hunting deer in AthoU. How comes it that he found a footing in the south ? On this subject, Murray himself must have studied to preserve an obscurity. It Avas given out that he had been brought to London at three years of age, and hence the remark of .Fohnson to 13oswell, that much might be made of a Scotsman ' if caught young.' To Lord Campbell belongs the credit of ascertaining that young Murray in reality received his juvenile education at the Grammar-school of Perth, and did not move to England till the age of fourteen, by which time he had shown great capacity, being, for one thing, able to converse in Latin. The Jacobite elder brother was the means of bringing ' Willie' south- ward. As a Scotch member during the Harley and Bolingbroke administration, he had gained the friendship of Atterbury, then Dean of West- minster. In the Stuart service himself, and anxious to bring AVillie into the same career, he recommended that he should be removed to Westminster school, and brotight up under the eye of the dean ; professing to believe that he was sure of a scholarship at Christchurch, and of all desirable advancement that his talent fitted him for. Willie was accordingly sent on horse- back by a tedious journey to London, in the spring of 1718, and never saw his country or his parents again. In a year he had obtained a king's scholarship, and it is suspected that the interest of Attcrbuiy was the means of his getting it. Lord Campbell duly tells us of the elegant elocution to which Murray attained. He suc- ceeded, it seems, in getting rid of his Scotch accent; and j'ct 'there were some shibboleth words which he could never pronounce properly to his dying day : for example, he converted regi- ment into rcg'ment; at dinner he asked not for bread, but brid ; and in calling over the bar, he did not say, ' Mr Solicitor,' but ' Mr Soleester, will you move anything ? ' MARCH 21. St Serapion (call'jd the Sindonite), about 388. St Serapioii (the scholastic), Bisliop in Egypt, 4th century. St Serapion, abbot. St Benedict (or Beiinet), abbot of Mount Casino, patriarch of the Western monks, 543. St Euna, abbot in Ireland, 6th century. ST BENEDICT. The history of St Benedict is chiefly interest- ing to us from the circtimstance that he was in a manner the father of Western monachism, and especially of that portion of it which exercised so great and durable an influence on the social history of this part of Europe. He was born about the year 480, and was a native of JN^orcia, in Umbria, from whence he was sent to study at Pome, but he had imbibed a strong taste for asceticism, and when about fourteen or fif- teen, he fled to the wild mountains of Subiaco, disgusted, as it is said, by the vices practised iu ST BENEDICT. MAUCH 21. E.ome. He took up his residence alone in a cavern whicli is now called tke Holy Grotto, and his hiding-place was known only to a monk of a neighbouring monastery, named Komanus, who supplied him scantily with food. After three years passed in this manner, Benedict became endowed with sanctity, and his reputation began soon to spread over the countiy, so that he was at length elected Abbot of Vicovara, between Subiaco and Tivoli ; but he disagreed with the monks, and returned to his old place of retire- ment. His fame drew so many monks to the desert, that he established twelve monasteries ; placing in each twelve monks, and a superior. Here he received a continual accession of monks, and is said to have performed many miracles ; but at length becoming an object of persecution to some of his flock, he left Subiaco, and went to Monte Cassino, a lofty mountain in the kingdom of Naples. On the brow of the mountain stood an ancient temple of Apollo, surrounded by a grove, where some of the inhabitants of this district appear to have re- mained still addicted to their old idolatrous worship. Benedict converted these by his preaching, and by the miracles which accom- panied it, broke the idol, and overthrew the altar ; and having demolished the temple and cut down the grove, built on the spot two small oratories, which were the first beginning of the celebrated abbey of Monte Cassino. When he founded this abbey in the year 529, Benedict was forty-eight years of age. AVhile Abbot of Monte Cassino, Benedict founded several other similar establishments, and he drew up the rule for their governance, which became subsequently that of the whole Benedictine order. The great principle of this rule was absolute obedience, the other main duties being charity and voluntary poverty. The monks were to employ seven hours of the day in manual labour, and two in pious reading. They were to abstain entirely from animal food, and were allowed only a fixed quantity of food daily. They were to possess everything in common, and this article was at first enforced so strictly, that in some of the monasteries in France a monk was considered to have merited punishment when he said, ' my cloak,' or ^my hat,' as no individual was allowed to possess anything of his own. In course of time, however, this injunction was generally evaded, and the Benedictine monasteries became celebrated for their immense possessions, which they excused on the ground that the wealth of the monasteries belonged to the monks not in- dividually but collectively — that they were so many pauper members of a rich foundation. Benedict ruled the abbey of Monte Cassino about fourteen years, and died on Saturday the 21st of March, it is believed in the year 543, and was buried in the church of his monastery. In England the name of tliis saint is usually known by its popular form of Bcnct or Bcnnet. After his death the rule of St Benedict was adopted by nearly all the monks of the West. In England the rule of the earlier Anglo-Saxon monks was very loose, and their monasteries partook more of the character of secular than of religious establishments, la the teutU century, 26 St Dunstan, with the aid of some other eccle- siastics of his time, and after an obstinate struggle, forced the Benedictine oi'der upon the Anglo-Saxons, and it was still more completely established in this island by the Normans. But the more onerous parts of the rule were no longer observed, and the monks and nuns had become celebrated for their luxurious living, and for the secular character of their lives. Frequent attempts were made to restore the order to some- what of its religious purity, and these various reformations produced numerous branch orders, among which the most powerful and celebrated were the monks of Cluny, and the Cistercians. Born. — Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, 1274 ; Humphrey Wanlej', antiquary, 16T2, Coventrij ; John Sebastian Bach, musical composer, 1685, Eisenach; J. B. J. Fourier, mathematician, 1768 ; Henry Kirke "White, poet, 1785, Nvttinghain. Died. — Edmond of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, beheaded, 1330 ; Archbishop Cranmer, burnt at Oxford, 1556 ; Peter Ernest, Count de Mausfeld, 1604, Luxembourg ; Tomasso Campanella, Dominican metaphysician and politician, 1639, Paris; Archbishop Usher, 1656, Rei- gate, Siiri'eij ; Charlotte Tremouille, Countess of Derby, heroic defender of Latham House, and of the Isle of Man, 1663, Ormslcirlc ; Richard Dawes, eminent Greek scholar, 1766, Eaioorth ; Due d'Enghien, shot at Vincennes, 1804 ; Michael Bryan, biographer of painters and engravers, 1821 ; Baron La Motte-Fouque, poet and novelist, 1843; Robert Southey, LL.D., poet laureate, 1843, Keswick; Rev. W. Scoresby, Arctic voyager, 1857. CRANMER. It is startling to note in how many instances the future destiny of a great man seems at one time or other to have hung on a thread. One little chance, one event, in itself most trivial, substituted for another at some critical point, and the great man's name might have been omitted in Fame's scroll. Had Thomas Cranmer not met with Henry VIII. accidentally, we might never have heard of him ; for he was not a man to push his way to distinction. He was in no way a very extraordinary man. Henry found him a fellow of his college, a widower, a private tutor, learned in divinity, and a staunch believer in the King's supremacy. Whatever may be said of Henry, he had undoubtedly a shrewd insight into character. He saw at once that Cranmer was an acquisition. He at once em- ployed him. He sent him on an embassy to the Pope, as well as to Germany, and made him archbishop in four years, against his will. He stood by him to the last. Cranmer must have been the most useful man of the lleformation. His cautious prudence enabled him to steer safely where bolder guides would have endangered the vessel, and to keep in harbour when others would have risked the storm. He pushed on the cause iudefatigably, but never agitated. During Henry's reign he supported the King's supremacy, laboured at the English Bible, and began a revised Liturgy. Edward YL. reigning from nine yeai's old to fifteen, aflbrded liini a golden opportunity for cautiously, but surely, advancing the great cause. Cranmer was the ciiief compiler of the new Liturgies, Articles, Homilies, &c., and the chief 401 CRANMEH. THE BOOK OF DAYS. HENBY KIEKE WHITE. allayer of disputes -n'liicli began to liarass tlie unity of tho lleformors. In Mary's reign the old man -was duped into recantations, and burnt at Oxford. Cranuier is by some described as a weak man, and by others eLaborately defended, it is easier to detract from or extol a character, than to analyse it. As a man he was vacillating, as a Christian strong, as both prudent. A man naturally weak may be often courageous, and an xipright conscience is easily confused in a weak mind. Prudence was Cranmer's chief character- istic, and prudence begets compromise, compro- mise vacillation. When he took contradictory oaths on his instalment, he was content with a protest : he said, 'What could I have doneniore?' And the key to his whole course is given in his own words : ' It pertaias not to private subjects to reform things, but quietly to suffer what they cannot amend ' — a difficult rule in those days as a guide to consistent conduct. No doubt it was by aid of this principle that his enemies at the last undermined his consistency. ^^ Yet he was a most pure Christian. When he saw his duty clearly, he never turned from it. He strongly opposed Henry's Six Articles, and almost seditiously circulated his disapproval of Mary. Worldly we are sure he was not, though Dr Hook would have it so, building an imaginary charge on an obscure transaction. Ever would he plead for those condemned. He uniformly forgave his enemies, and confided in his friends witii a childish simpUcity. ' Do my lord of Canterbury an iU turn, and he is your friend for ever,' was the world's testimony of him. 'When he was informed of their treachery and ingrati- tude, he led aside Thornden and Barber into his garden, told them that some whom he trusted had disclosed his secrets and accused him of heresy, and asked how they thought such persons ought to be treated. They were loud in express- ing their indignation, and declared that such traitors deserved to die. "Know ye these letters, my masters ? " said the primate, and shewed them the proof of their own falsehood. The two offenders fell upon their knees to implore for- '^iveness ; for it was evident that their lives were ill his power, but all the revenge he took was to bid them ask God's forgiveness.' ' Kind, gentle, good, and weak. ' Shakspeare puts it very well : ' Look, the good man weeps ! He's honest, on mine honour. God's bless'd mother ! I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul None better in my kingdom.' HENRY KIRKE WHITE. WTiite w^as remarkable at the schools he attended in Nottingham for extraordinary appli- cation. Such was his early passion for reading, that, when seated in his little chair with a large book on his knee, his mother would have to say more than once, ' Henry, my love, come to dinner,' ere she could rouse him from his reverie. At the age of seven he used to steal into the kitchen to teach the servant to read and write; But so little sympathy did his father, who was a butcher, show with his tastes and predilections, 402 that he not only kept him from school one whole day a week to carry out meat, but actually, for a time, occupied nearly all his leisure hours besides in this ungenial task. At the age of fourteen he was sent to work at the stocking-loom, with a view to future promo- tion to the hosier's warehouse. It would be impossible to imagine a more disagreeable occu- pation for poor Henry ; and while he drudged at HOUSE AT NOTTINGHAM IN WHICH HENBY lilBKE WHITE WAS BOKN. it mostunwillingly for a twelvemonth, his thoughts were roaming along the banks of the silvery Trent, or resting in the welcome shade of Clifton Grove. At fifteen his mother succeeded in pro- curing his admission into a lawyer's office, where, as no premium could be paid with him, he had to serve two years before he could be articled — a form which took place in 1802. He now began to learn Latin and Greek. Such, we are told, was his assiduity, that he used to decline Greek nouns and verbs as he went to and from the office, gave up supping with the family, and ate his meal in his own little room, in order to pursue his studies more uninterruptedly, — studies which often extended far into the night, and became almost encyclopaedic in their range. He com- menced as author by sending contributions to the Monthly Frece-ptor and Monthly Mirror. From the former he received a pair of 12-inch globes as a prize for the best imaginary tour from London to Ediuburgh, which he wrote one even- ing after tea, and read to the family at supper. He was then only sixteen. Through the latter he attracted the notice of Mr Hill and Capel Loft, who persuaded him to prepare a volume of poems, which appeared in 1803, dedicated to the Duchess of Devonshire — a lady more interested in elections than books of poetry, and who con- sequently took no further notice of the volume or its author. Henry's great desire now was to HENEY KIRKE WHITE. MARCH 22. enter the Church. He disliked the drudgery of an attorney's ofSce ; a deafness, too, which was gaining upon him, threatened to make him use- less as a lawyer, and his mind was deeply imbued with religious feelings. He hoped that the publication of his poems might in some way or other further this object. For a time, however, he was doomed to disappointment. At length, through the influence of Mr Simeon, the author of the well-known Skeleton Sermons, his fondest hopes were realized. In October 1805, he went to Cambridge, where, by unexampled industry, he speedily attained distinction, was first at every examination, and was looked tipon as a future Senior Wrangler. But he had long overtaxed his strength. At the end of one short year from his entering the College, exhausted nature sank beneath incessant tod and anxiety. He died October 19, 1806. Byron, in his English Bards and Scotch Me- vieiuers, has finely said of him : ' Science' self destroy'd her favourite son ! ****** 'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart : Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel. He nursed the pinion which impeli'd the steel, While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest Drank the last life -drop of his bleeding breast.' MARCH 22. St Paul, Bishop of Narbonne, 3d century. St Basil, of Ancyra, martyr, 362. St Lea, widow, of Rome, 384. St Deogratias, Bishop of Carthage, 457. St Catharine, of Sweden, Abbess, 1381. JBorn. — Henry de Beauohamp, Earl and last Duke of Warwick, 1424, Hanky Castle; Sir Anthony Vandyck, painter, 1599, Antwerp ; Edward Moore, dramatic writer, 1712, Abingdon ; Rosa Bonheur, artist, 1822. £)ied. — Thomas Earl of Lancaster, beheaded at Ponte- fract, 1322 ; Thomas Duke of Clarence, slain in Anjou, 1421 ; Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, 1676, Brougham; Jean Baptiste Lully, father of French dra- matic music, 1687, Paris ; Jonathan Edwards, Calvinistic minister, 1758, New Jersey; John Canton, electrician, 1772 ; J. W. von Goethe, German poet and prose writer, 1832, Weimar; Rev. David Williams, warden of New College, 1860. GOETHE. When the spirit of Goethe passed away, all Europe took note of the event, and pondered on those last words, ' Let the light enter.' _ He was venerable with age and honours, a wise many- sided mind, and the greatest poet of Germany. ' In virtue of a genius such as modern times have only seen equalled once or twice,' says Mr Lewes, ' Goethe deserves the epithet of great ; unless we believe a great genius can belong to a small mind. Nor is it in virtue of genius alone that he deserves the name. Merck said of him that what he lived was more beautiful than what he wrote ; and his life, amid all its weaknesses and all its errors, presents a picture of a certain gran- deur of soul, which cannot be contemplated un- moved.' Johann Wolfgang Goethe was born in 1749, in the busy old-fashioned town of Frankfort-on-the- Maine ; a child so precocious that we find it recorded that he could write German, French, Italian, Latin, and Greek, before he was eight. His age fulfilled the promise of youth : ho grew up a genuine man, remarkable for endless activity of body and mind, a sage minister, a noble friend, and a voluminous writer. He commenced his collegiate course at Leipsic in 1765, but gave himself little to prescribed studies. Jurisprudence suited him as little at Strasburg, whither he went in 1770 ; yet in the following year he duly became Dr Goethe. He gave himself chiefly to literature and society. At length, in 1775, at the request of Karl August, he went to Weimar, ' where his long residence was to confer on an insignificant duchy the immortal renown of a German Athens.' He remained the Duke's counsellor, prime minister, and personal friend for more than fifty years ; busying himself in acts of public utility and pri- vate benevolence, and studying and writing upon everything which came in his way. When Napoleon and the Emperor of Russia met at Erfurt, near Weimar, in 1808, the former patronised Goethe by summoning him to a private audience. It lasted nearly an hour, and seems to have given mutual satisfaction. On Nov. 7, 1825, Goethe was honoured with a Jubi- lee, on the fiftieth anniversary of his residence at Weimar. His own play Iphigenia was performed in the Theatre, and the whole town was illumi- nated. An anecdote will illustrate his exalted position. ' Karl Aiigust came into his study accompanied by the King of Bavaria, who brought with him the Order of the Grand Cross as a homage. In strict etiquette a subject was not allowed to accept such an order without his sovereign granting permission ; and Goethe, ever punctilious, turned to the Grand Duke, saying, " If my gracious sovereign permits;" upon which the Duke called out, " Du alter Kerl ! mache doch kein dummes Zeug ! " "Come, old fellow, no nonsense ! " He received another note- worthy honour. A handsome seal, with a motto, " Without haste, without rest," taken from his poems, reached him from England. The accom- panying letter expressed its desires " to shew re- verence where reverence is due," and was signed by fifteen English admirers of the "spiritual teacher," among whom were Carlyle, Dr Car- lyle. Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart, Wordsworth, Southey, and Professor Wilson.' He died in his eighty-fourth year, at least in mind still young. His juvenile production, The Sorrows of Wer- if/ier, seized upon the sentimental spirit of the time, and rendered him famous. Though a genuine and characteristic work, he outgrew its philosophy and lived to regret it. Faust is his great work, but can never be popular, as its wisdom does not lie on the surface. Hermann and Dorothea is immor- tal as the Vicar of Wakefield. His minor poems have widely influenced modern verse. He wrote an Autobiography and many prose works, and 403 GOETHE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAES. was by no moans insignificant as a pioneer to the noMo'host of modernVotorans in science. His friendship and co-operation with Schiller is one of the most lovable parts of Goethe's life. Those two great minds were essentially diverse. Yet we iind them, to their eternal hononr, ' bronght into brotherly union only by what was highest in their natures and their aims.' When Schiller's death was concealed from him. Goethe discovered it by the shyness of his domestics. He saw Schiller must be ill, and at night was heard to weep. ' In the morning he said to a friend, " Is it not true that Schiller was very ill yester- day?" The friend (it was a woman) sobbed. " He is dead ? " said Goethe faintly. " You have said it," was the answer. " He is dead," repeated Goethe, and covered his face with his hands.' Then he wrote with truth, doubtless, ' The half of my existence is gone from me.' There is something in Goethe's greatness not always pleasing. He feared to marry, lest he should cripple his freedom. Not that he pro- fessed such a motive, but this is the only expla- nation of the fact that so many loves stopped short of marriage. The names of women in his works mostly belong to real characters. Con- tinually in his biography we are coming upon 'traces of a love-affair;' and besides obscure cases, we have Gretchen, Kathchen, Frederica, Lotte, Lili, Bettina, Frau von Stein, &c. &c. Frederica he treated badly in his youthful days, unless the reader can excuse Hamlet's conduct to Ophelia. Bettina he only petted, and seem- ingly did not ill-treat. Frau von Stein he was faithfid to during many years, and she was a married woman. With Christine Vulpius he lived sixteen years, in defiance of public opinion ; and then, in defiance again of the same public opinion, when she was fat, ugly, and intemperate, he honourably married her. Yes, and when she died, let us thoughtfully take note, he wrote thus to Zelter : ' AVhen I tell thee, thou rough and sorely-tried son of earth, that my dear little wife has left me, thou wilt know what that means.' Genius is often Avhimsical. Poet Goethe wasted as much precious time in trying to be an artist, as artist Turner wasted in vainly labouring to express himself in verse. SUPPRESSION OF THE ORDER OF THE KNIGHTS TEMFLARS, MARCH 22, 1312. The origin of the celebrated order of Templars is due to the piety of nine French knights, who in Ills had followed Godfrey de Bouillon to the Crusades, and there dedicated themselves to insure the safety of the roads against the attacks of the infidels who maltreated the pilgrims to the Holy City. Their numbers rapidly increased ; men of every nation, rank, and riches joined themselves to the generous militia who gained such glory on the battle-field. The council of Troyes approved them, encouragements and re- compenses were awarded to their devotion, and a rule was granted them. St Bernard thus de- scribes them in their early days : ' They lived without anything they could call their own, not even their wiU : they are generally simply dressed, and covered with dust, their faces em- 404 browned with the burning sun, and a fixed severe expression. On the eve of a battle, they arm themselves with faith within, and steel withovit ; these are their only decoration, and they use them with valour, in the greatest perils fearing neither the number nor the strength of the bar- barians. Their whole confidence is placed in the God of armies, and fighting for His cause they seek a certain victory, or a holy and honourable death. O happy way of life, in which they can await death without fear, desire it with joy, and receive it with assurance ! ' Tlie statutes of the order had for their basis all military and Christian virtues. The formula of the oath they took on their entrance was found in the archives of the Abbey of Alcobaza, in Arragon ; it is as follows : ' I swear to consecrate my words, my arms, my strength, and my life to the defence of the mysteries of the faith, and that of the unity of God. I also promise to be submissive and obedient GEANI) JIASTER OF THE TEMPLAES. to the Grand Master of the Order. Whenever it is needful, I will cross the seas to fight, I will give help against all infidel kings and princes ; and in the presence of three enemies I will not fly but fight, if they are infidels.' At their head they carried their celebrated standard, called the Beauccant, which bore the motto : ' Non nobis, Dominc, non nobis, sed nomini tuo, da gloriam;' and after this they marched to battle, reciting prayers, having first received the holy sacrament. It was in 1237 that the knight who carried the Beauceant in an action where the Mussiilmans had the advantage, held it raised above his head until his conquerors, with redoubled blows, had pierced his whole body and cut off both his hands : such was their determined courage, while many authentic witnesses prove THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAE3. MAECH 22. THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAES. tliat, faithful to their oath, they respected the laws of religion and honour. It is not fair for an impartial seeker after truth to judge the conduct of the Templars from worlcs written after their misfortunes ; seldom indeed do the proscribed find courageous apologists : we must rather look to contemporary historians, the witnesses of their virtues and exploits ; and to the honourable testimony of popes, kings, and princes, who shortly after became their oppres- soi's. They are never denounced by the trouba- dours, and it is well known that these bold poets were the severest censors of their age, and attacked without pity the popes, clergy, and great men : nor was the favourite proverb, ' to drink like a Templar,' ever imagined until after their aboli- tion : whilst our own king, Edward II., who afterwards so weakly gave in to the prevailing cry, wrote at the first to the kings of Portugal, Castile, Sicily, and Arragon, praying them not to give credence to the calumnies which were spread against them. It was in France that the storm burst out with all violence : the unscrupulous king, Philip le Bel, with his minister jMarigny, had cast a covetous eye upon the wealth acquired by the knights, and determinedly used every means to obtain it. The first accusations were made by two men, the Prior of Montfaucon and NafFodci, a Florentine, who had been banished from his country, and whom none believed to have ever been one of the order. The prior had been condemned to per- petual imprisonment by the Grand Master, for heresy and infamous conduct, so that revenge was evidently his motive. The first act was to recal the Grand Master from Cyprus upon another pretext, and on the 13th of October 1307, he, with one hundred and thirty-nine knights, were arrested in their own Palace of the Temple at Paris, their possessions were confiscated, and the king himself took up his abode at the Temple on that day, and seized their treasures. All the knights throughout France were at the same time thrown into prison. Their accusation was that new statutes had been established in place of the old ones, by which the knight on his admittance was required to deny his faith in Christ, to spit upon the cross, and to suffer other scandalous liberties : they were spoken of as ' ravening wolves, a perfidious idola- trous society, whose Avorks and words alone are sufiicient to pollute the earth and infect the air.' The inhabitants of Paris were convoked in the king's garden, the heads of the parishes and com- munities assembled, whilst the commissioners and monks preached against the condemned. They were put into irons, and the Inquisitor, Guillaume de Paris, questioned them, not j)^r- mitting them to employ any counsel. Warriors, who by their privileges and riches had walked beside princes, were left without the necessaries of life. The comforts of religion were even refused, under the pretext that they Avere here- tics, and unworthy to participate in them. Life, liberty, and rewards were offered to those knights who would confess the crimes of which their order was accused ; twenty-six grandees of the court declared themselves their accusers ; and from all quarters archbishops, bishops, abbes, chapters. and corporate bodies of the cities and villages, sent in their adhesion. After the barbarous fashion of the age, the Inquisitor commanded tlie trial to begin by torture ; one hundred and forty were thus tried in order to wring from them a confession, and it appears that only three resisted all entreaties ; the remainder attested the pre- tended crimes imputed to them, but throughout there is so much improbability, absurdity, and contradiction in the evidence, that it is easy to see under what constraint it was given. The Pope, Clement the Fifth, who claimed the right of being their sole judge, called the fathers of the church to a council at Vienne. Numbers of proscribed Templars were wandei-ing among the mountains near Lyons, and with praiseworthy resolution they chose nine knights to go and plead their cause, in spite of the instruments of torture and the still smoking fagots by which thirty-six had died in Paris alone. They pre- sented themselves as the representatives of from fifteen hundred to two thousand knights, under the safe-conduct of the public faith; but Clement immediately arrested and put them in chains, augmenting his guard to save himself from the despair the others might be driven to. The Council were scandalised at such a proceeding, and refused their sentence iiutil they had an opportunity of hearing the accused ; but this suited neither the Pope nor Philip, and after trying in vain to bend the just decision of the fathers, the former pronounced, in a secret con- sistory, the suppression of the order. Jacques de Molay, a brave and virtuous knight, was at this time the Grand Master. Of a noble famdy of Burgundy, he had been received into the order in 12G5, and gained himself an honour- able place at the French court, so much so as to stand at the baptismal font for Robert, the fourth son of the king. During his absence in the East he was unanimously elected to his high office, and when the calumnies which began to be whispered reached his ear, he returned to the Pope and demanded an immediate examination into the conduct of the order. His own charac- ter would stand the highest test for probity and morality, his prosecutors even never imputing to him the shameful and dissolute crimes of which they so readily accused his associates ; but this was no protection, for he too was loaded Avith chains, and severe tortures applied. His sufferings, the menaces of the Inquisitor, the assurance that the knights would be condemned to death, and the order destroyed, if they did not yield to the king's projects, the pardonable desire of sparing theirblood, and the hope of appeasing the King and Pope, induced him to conde- scend to an acknowledgment that he had against his own will denied his Saviour. But this he retracted very speedily, and kept stedfast to it through many sufferings and privations : the cardinals, however, refused credence to the with- drawal, and in May 1310, they read the sentence in the church of Notre Dame, condemning him to perpetual imprisonment. To the great astonisliment of those present, the Grand Master and one of his companions proclaimed the retrac- tation of theirconfession, accusing themselves only of the crime of having ever made it. The 405 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLABS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. PETEE CUMMIN. cardinals, talcen by surprise, ontriisted these two Prisoners to the care of the Provost, but when the ing heard of it, he called his council together, among whom there was not a single ecclesiastic, and it was decided that De Molay and the knights should be immediately burnt. An immense pile of wood was prepared for them, when, as a last eftort on the part of the king, he sent the public crier to offer pardon and liberty to any one who would avow his parti- cipation in these pretended crimes. Neither the sight of horrible preparations for death, nor the tears of their relatives, nor the entreaties of their friends, could shake any of these inflexible souls ; the offers of the king were reiterated, but cun- ning, prayers, and menaces, all were useless. They had already submitted to the shame of an untrue confession, and now a noble repentance, with the feelings of virtue and truth, made them prefer death on the scaflold to a life redeemed by ignominy and untruth. The Grand Master was the first to ascend the steps, and the heroic old man addressed the multitude thus : ' None of U3 have betrayed either our God or our coun- try ; we die innocent ; the decree which condemns us is an unjust one, but there is in heaven an august tribunal where the oppressed never im- plore in vain : to that tribunal I cite thee, O Roman Pontiff; within forty days thou shalt be there : and thee, O Philip, my master and my king ; in vain do I pardon thee, thy life is con- demned ; within the year I await thee before God's throne.' Such citations were not uncommon in the middle ages, but perhaps the deaths of the pope and king, who survived De Molay but a short time, were the occasion of the popular tradition which has been retained by historians — Justus Lipsius, for instance. This at least is certain, that the Templars died without a groan, shewing an admirable firmness of courage, invoking the name of God, blessing Him, and calling Him to witness to their innocence. Time has rendered them justice. The great Arnaud did not hesitate to believe them guiltless. ' There is scarcely any one,' he says, ' who now believes there was any justice in accusing the Templars of committing impiety, idolatry, and impurity.' The whole charge belonged to the spirit of the age, which, shortly after the death of Philip le Bel, degraded his minister Marigny, and gained over his wife and sister to swear that he had employed a magician to attempt the king's life, by moulding wax images of him and running them through with pins, using at the same time magical incantations. The magician was impri- soned, whereupon he hung himself in despair ; his wife was burnt as an accomplice, and Marigny himself was hung. Philip had done all he could to induce the other European sovereigns to follow his example in the suppression of the Templars ; the greater part were only too ready to seize upon their vast treasures. In England sealed orders were sent to all tlie sheriffs, which when opened were to be executed suddenly. The Templars were impri- soned, but torture does not seem to have been used ; they were finally dispersed among various monasteries tolive on a miserable pittance granted 406 by the king out of their own enormous revenues. The final decree against them was issued on the 22nd March 1312. PETER CUMMIN AND OTHER CENTENARIANS. March 22, 1724, was buried in Alnwick churchyard, Peter Cummin, a day-labourer re- puted as upwards of a hundred and twenty years old. His name could not be found in the parish register of baptisms, because all previous to 1645 were lost. In his latter years this vene- rable person used to live from house to house amongst the gentry of the district. It is related of hini that, coming to the house of Mr Brown, of Shawdon, near Alnwick, he looked round him, and expressed wonder at the great changes that had taken place since he was there last. He was asked how long that was ago, when, on a comparison of circumstances, the family found it was just a hundred years.* It may be added that, at Newcastleton in Eoxburghshire, they point to a field in the neighbourhood, where one day about 1770, amongst those engaged in reaping, was a woman of great age, but still in possession of a fair share of strength. Chatting with some of her neigh- bours, she told them she had once reaped in that field before, when she was a girl ; and after some discussion, this proved to have been exactly a hundred years before. As an additional pendant to the case of Peter Cummin, the reader may take that of a noted vagrant, named James Stuart, who died at Tweedmouth, April 11, 1844, aged 116, having been born in South Carolina on 25th December 1728. A few charitable persons having com- bined to make the last days of this veteran comfortable, he naively remarked to an inquiring friend one day, that ' he had na been see weel off this hunder year.' One of the most curious, though not the most extreme instances of longevity, was described in a letter by Thomas Atkins, dated Windsor, September 28, 1657, addressed to Fuller, and printed by him in his Worthies. The subject of the recital was the Eev. Patrick M'llvain, minister of Lesbury, near Alnwick. He was a hundred and ten years of age, having been born at Whithorn, in Wigtonshire, in 1546. Atkins heard this ancient pastor perform the service and preach, as was his custom, using neither spectacles for reading, nor notes for his sermon. ' His text was, " Seek you the kingdom of God, and all things shall be added unto you." In my poor judgment he made an excellent good ser- mon, and went cleverly through, without the help of any notes.' It appeared that, many years before, he had exhibited the usual symptoms of decay ; but latterly his eyesight had been restored, he had got a fresh crop of thin flaxen hair, and three new teeth appeared in his gums. He had always been a spare man, and very abstemious in his habits. Having married when above eighty, he had four youthful daughters living with him, besides his wife, who was only about fifty. It does not appear how long the veteran survived 1657. * Antiquarian Repertory, iii. 435. WEDNESDAY IN HOtT WEEK IN EOME. MAECH 23. PEDEO THE CEUEL. MARCH 23. St Victorian, proconsul of Carthage, and others, martyrs, 484. St Edelwald, of England, 699. St Alphonsus Turibius, Archbishop of Lima, 1606. S^lcbircsbag in poljr Mnh ux |lome. On this occasion tlie only ceremony that attracts attention is the singing of the first Miserere in the Sistine Chapel. This commences at half-past four in the afternoon. The crowding is usually very great. The service, which is sometimes called Tenebrge, from the darkness of the night in which it was at one time celebrated, is repeated on the two following days in the Sistine Chapel, and singing not greatly different takes place also in St Peter's. The whole oiEce of Tenebris is a highly-finished musical composition, performed by the organ and the voices of one of the finest choirs in the world. Some parts are of exquisite beauty and tenderness. We give the following account of the composition from a work quoted below. ' In no other place has this celebrated music ever succeeded. Baini, the director of the pontifical choir, in a note to his Life of Pales- trina, observes that on Holy Wednesday, 1519 (pontificate of Leo X.). the singers chanted the Miserere in a new and unaccustomed manner, alternately singing the verses in symphony. This seems to be the origin of the far-famed Miserere. Various authors, whom Baini enume- rates, afterwards composed Miserere; but the celebrated composition of Gregorio AUegri, a Roman, who entered the papal coUege of singei's in 1629, was the most successful, and was for some time sung on all the days of Tenebree. Ultimately, the various compositions were eclipsed by the Miserere composed by Bai; but since 1821 the compositions of Baini, Bai, and AUegri are sung on the three successive days, the two latter sometimes blended together. The first verse is sung in harmony, the second in plain chant, and so successively till the last verse.'* At the office of the Miserere, a ceremony takes place that may be described from the same authority: 'A triangular candlestick, upon which are fifteen candles, corresponding to the number of psalms recited, is placed at the epistle side of the altar. After each psalm one of the candles is extinguished by a master of the ceremonies, and after the Benedictus the candle on the top is alone not extinguished, but it is removed and concealed behind the altar, and brought out at * The Ceremonies of Holy Week at Rome, by Eight Rev. Monsignor Baggs. (Rome, Piale, 1854.) the end of the service ; while that canticle is sung the six candles on the altar also are extinguished, as well as those above the rails. The custom of concealing the last and most elevated candle, and of bringing it forward burning at the end of the service, is in allusion to the death and resurrection of Christ, whose light is represented by burning tapers. In the same manner, the other candles extinguished one after another, may represent the prophets successively put to death before their divine Lord.' Bor7i. — Pierre Simon Laplace, French savant, author of Mecanique Celeste, 1749, Beaumont- en- Ange ; William Smith, 'The Father of English Geology,' 1769. -Died. — Peter the Cruel, king of Castile, 1369 ; Pope Julius IIL, 1556; Justus Lipsius, eminent historical writer, 1606, Louvain ; Paul, Emperor of Russia, assassinated, 1801, St Petersburg; Thomas Holcroft, miscellaneous writer, 1809; Duchess of Brunswick, sister of George IIL, 1813; Augustus Frederick Kotzebue, German dramatist, 1819, assassinated at Mannheim ; Carl Maria von Weber, German musical composer, 1829, London; Archdeacon Nares, philologist, 1829. FACSIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. PEDRO THE CRUEL. The following facsimile presents the autograph of Pedro I., King of Castile, styled the Cruel. The original is the signature to a treaty, and is copied from Cott. MS. Vesp. C. xii. The ink is thick, and of a brown colour, and it will be seen that Pedro, for a king in the fourteenth century, wrote a very good hand. He has been stigma- tised as unnatural, cruel, an infidel, and a fra- tricide; but Pedro's fratricide consisted in executing an illegitimate brother who Avas about to assassinate him, and his infidelity appears chiefly to have been hatred of the monks. The latter, in their turn, hated him, and as their pens were more lasting than his sceptre, Pedro's name has descended to posterity blackened by the accusation of almost every crime which man could commit. Don Pedro was born in 1334, and died by the dagger of his illegitimate brother Enrique (who usurped his throne) at Montiel, on the 23d of March 1369, aged thirty-five. His two sur- viving daughters became the wives of John of Gaunt and Edmund of Langley, sons of Edward III. of England. This Prince is one of the first modern kinga who possessed the accomplishment of writing. Our Henry I. (' Beauclerc ') could not wi'ite, and signed with a mark, as any one may see who will take the trouble to consult Cott. MS. Vesp. E. iii. (British Museum). M^ f ^^<^ ig^. 'TO EL EET' — 'I THE KINa.* 407 ENGLAND LAID UNDER INTERDICT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CAMPDEN nOUSE. ENGLAND LAID UNDER INTEIIDICT. On tlio '23a of March 120S, England undor- vront the full rengoance of the papal Mratli. King John had occupied the throne during nearly nine years, and had contrived to lose his conti- nental territories, and to incur the hatred of his subjects ; and he now quarrelled with the Church — then a very formidable jiowcr. The ground of dispute was the appointment of an Archbishop of Canterbury ; and as the ecclesiastics of Canter- buiy espoused the papal choice, John treated them with a degree of brutality which could not fail to provoke the utmost indignation of the Court of Eome. Innocent III., who at this time occupied the papal chair, expostulated with the king of England, aud demanded redress, following up these demands with threats of lay- ing an interdict upon the kingdom, and excom- municating the king. ^Vhen these threats were announced to John, • the kiug,' to use the words of the contemporarj'' historian, Eoger de Wend- over, ' became nearly mad with rage, and broke forth in words of blasphemy against the Pope and his cardinals, swearing by Grod's teeth that, if they or auy other priests soever presump- tuously dared to lay his ^dominions under an interdict, he would banish all the English clergy, and confiscate all the property of the church ;' adding that, if he found any of the Pope's clerks in England, he woiild send them home to Home with their eyes torn out and their noses split, 'that they might be known there from other people.' Accordingly, on Easter Monday, 1208, which that year fell on the 23d of March, the three bishops of London, Ely, and Winchester, as the Pope's legates, laid a general interdict on the whole of England, by which all the churches were closed, and all religious service was discon- tinued, with the exception of confession, the administration of the viaticum on the point of death, and the baptism of children. Marriages could no longer be celebrated, aud the bodies of the dead ' were carried out of cities and towns, and buried in roads and ditches, without prayers or the attendance of priests.' The king retaliated by carrying out his threat of confiscation; he seized all the church property, giving the ecclesiastical proprietors only a scanty allowance of food and clothing. ' The corn of the clergy was every- where locked up,' says the contemporary writer, ' and distrained for the benefit of the revenue ; the concubines of the priests and clerks were taken by the king's servants, and compelled to ransom themselves at a great expense ; monks and other persons ordained, of any kind, when found travelling on the roads, were dragged from their horses, robbed, and basely ill-treated by the king's satellites, and no one would do them justice. About that time the sergeants of a certain sheriff on the borders of Wales came to the king, bringing in their custody, with his hands tied behind him, a robber who had robbed and murdered a priest on the high road ; and ou their asking the king what it was his pleasure should be done to a robber in such a case, the king immediately replied, " He has only slain one of my enemies ; release him, and let him go." ' In such a state of things, it is not to be won- 408 dored at if the higher ecclesiastics fled to the Continent, and as many of the others as could make their escape followed their example. This gloomy period, which lasted luitil the taking off the interdict in 1214, upwards of six years, was , long remembered in the traditions of the pea- santry. AVe have heard a rather curious legend, on tra- dition, connected with this event. Many of our readers will have noticed the frequent occurrence, on old common lands, and even on the sides of wild mountains and moorlands, of the traces of furrows, from the process of ploughing the laud at some very remote period. To explain these, it is pretended that King John's subjects found an ingenious method of evading one part of the interdict, by which all the cultivated land in the kingdom was put under a curse. People were so superstitious that they believed that the land which lay under this curse would be incapable of producing crops, but they considered that the terms of the interdict applied only to laud in cultivation at the time when it was proclaimed, and not to any which began to be cultivated afterwards ; and to evade its effect, they left uncultivated the land which had been pre- viously cultivated, and ploughed the commons and other uncultivated lands : and that the furrows we have alluded to are the remains of this temporary cultivation. It is probable that this interpretation is a very erroneous one ; and it is now the belief of antiquaries that most of these very ancient furrow-traces, which have been remarked especially over the Northumbrian hills, are the remains of the agriculture of the Komans, who obtained immense quantities of corn from Britain, and appear to have cultivated great extents of land which were left entirely waste dui'ing the middle ages. Our mediaeval forefathers frequently shewed great ingenuity in evading the ecclesiastical laws and censures. We have read in an old record, the reference to which we have mislaid, of a wealthy knight, who, for his ofiences, was struck with the excommunication of the Church, and, as he was obstinate in his contumacy, died under the sentence. According to the universal belief, a man dying under such circumstances had no other prospect but everlasting damnation. But our knight had remarked that the terms of the sentence were that he would be damned whether buried within the church or without the church, and he gave orders to make a hole in the exterior wall of the building, and to bury his body there, believing that, as it was thus neither within the church nor without the church, he would escape the effects of the excommunication. Curiously enough, one or two examples have been met with of sepulchral interments within church walls, but it may perhaps be doubted if they admit of this explanation. CAMPDEN HOUSE, KENSINGTON. On the morning of Sunday, March 23, 1862, at about four o'clock, the mansion known as Campden House, built upon the high ground of Kensington just two centuries and a half ago, was almost entirely destroyed by fire. It was CAMPDEN HOUSE. MAECH 23. CAMPDEN HOUSE. one of tlie few old mansions in. the environs of tlie metropolis which time has spared to our day ; it belonged to a more picturesque age of archi- tecture than the present ; and though yielding in extent and beauty to its more noble neighbour, Holland House, "built within five years of the same date, and which iu general style it re- sembled, was still a very interesting fabric. It was built for Sii- Baptist Hicks, about the year 1612 ; and his arms, with that date, and those of his son-in-law, Edward Lord Noel, and Sir Charles Morison, were emblazoned upon a large bay-window of the house. In the same year (1612), he built the Sessions House in the broad part of St John Street, ClerkenweU; it was named after him, Hicks's Hall, a name more familiar than Campden House, from the former being inscribed upon scores of milestones in the suburbs of London, the distances being mea- sured ' from Hicks's Hall.' This Hall lasted about a century and a half, when it fell into a ruinous condition, and a new Hall was built on ClerkenweU Green, and thither was removed a handsomely carved wood mantelpiece from the old Hall, together with a portrait of Sir Baptist Hicks, painter unknown, and stated by Sir Bernard Burke to have never been engraved : it hung in the dining-room at the Sessions House. Baptist Hicks was the youngest son of a wealthy silk-mercer, at the sign of the White Bear, at Soper Lane end, in Cheapside. He was brought up to his father's business, in which he amassed a considerable fortune. In 1603, he was knighted by James I., which occasioned a contest between him and the alderman, respect- ing precedence ; and in 1611, being elected alder- man of Bread Street ward, he was discharged, on paying a fine of £500, at the express desire of the King. Strype teUs us that Sir Baptist Avas one of the first citizens that, after knighthood, kept their shops ; but being charged with it by some of the aldermen, he gave this answer : ' That his servants kept the shop, though he had a regard to the special credit thereof; and that he did not live altogether upon interest, as most of the alderman knights did, laying aside their trade after knighthood ; and that, had two of his ser- vants kept their promise and articles concluded between them and him, he had been free of his shop two years past ; and did then but seek a fit opportunity to leave the same.' This was in the year 1607. Sir Baptist was created a baronet 1st July 1620 ; and was further advanced to the peerage as Baron Hicks, of Ilmington, in the county of Warwick ; and Viscount Campden, in Gloucestershire, 5th May 1628. He died at his house in the Old Jewry, 18th October 1629, and was buried at Campden. He was a distinguished member of the Mercers' Company, to which his widow made a liberal bequest, one object of which was to assist young freemen beginning business as shopkeepers, with the gratuitous loan of £1000. Lady Campden was also a benefactress to the parish of K.ensington. The Campden House estate was purchased by Sir Baptist Hicks from Sir Walter Cope, or, according to a tradition in the parish, was won of him at some game of chance. Bowack, in his Antiquities of Middlesex, describes it as ' a very noble pUe, and finished with all the art the archi- tects of that time were masters of; the situation being upon a hill, makes it extreme healthful and pleasant.' Sir Baptist Hicks had two daughters, coheiresses, who are reputed to have had £100,000 each for their fortune : the eldest, Juliana, married Lord Noel, to whom the title devolved at the first Viscount Campden's decease ; Mary, the youngest daughter, married Sir Charles Morison, of Cashiobury, Herts. Baptist, the third Lord Campden, who was a zealous royalist, lost much property during the CivU Wars, but was permitted to keep his estates on paying the sum of £9000 as a composition, and making a settlement of £150 per annum on the Commonwealth Ministry. He resided chiefly at Campden House during the Protectorate : the Committee for Sequestrations held their meetings here. At the Eestoration, the King honoured Lord Campden with particular notice ; and we read in the Mercurius Politicus, that on June 8, 1666, ' His Majesty was pleased to sup with Lord Campden at Kensington.' In 1662, an Act was passed for settling Campden House upon this nobleman and his heirs for ever ; and in 1667, his son-in-law, Montague Bertie, Earl of Lindsey. who so nobly distinguished himself by his filial piety at the battle of Edge Hill, and who was wounded at Naseby, died in this house. In 1691, Anne, Princess of Denmark, hired Campden House from the Noel family, and resided there for about five years with her son, William Duke of Gloucester, then heir-presump- tive to the throne. The adjoining house is said to have been built at this time for the accommoda- tion of her Royal Highness's household : it was named Little Campden House, and was for some time the residence of William Pitt ; it had an outer arcaded gallery, and was subsequently called The Elms, and tenanted by Mr Egg, the painter : it was greatly iujm-ed by the late fire. At Campden House, the young Duke's amuse- ments were chiefly of a mditary cast ; and at a very early age he formed a regiment of boys, chiefly from Kensington, who were on constant duty here. He was placed under the care of the Earl of Marlborough and of Bishop Burnet. When King William gave him into the hands of the former, ' Teach him to be what you are,' said the King, ' and my nephew cannot want accom- plishments.' Bishop Burnet, who had super- intended his education for ten years, describes him as an amiable and accomplished prince, and in describing his education, says, ' The last thing I explained to him was the Gothic con- stitiition, and the beneficiary and feudal laws : I talked of these things, at different times, near three hours a day. The King ordered five of his chief ministers to come once a quarter, and examine the progress he had made.' They were astonished at his proficiency. He was, ho\vever, of weak constitution ; ' but,' says the Bishop, ' we hoped the dangerous time was over. His birthday was on the 2'lth of July 1700, and he was then eleven years old : he complained the next day, but we imputed that to the fatigue of a birthday, so that he was too much neglected ; the day after, he grew much worse, and it proved 4U9 CAMPDEN HO0SE. THE BOOK OP DAYS. CAMPDEN HOUSE. to be a malignant fever. lie died (at Windsor) on the fourth day of his illness : he was the only remaining child of seventeen that the Pi-incess had borne.' Burnet adds, ' His death gave great alarm to the whole nation. The Jacobites grew insolent upon it, and said, now the chief dilli- cult3' was removed out of the way of the Prince of "VVales's succession.' Mr Shippen, who then resided at Holland House, wrote the following lines upon the young Prince's death : ' So, by the course of the revolving si)heres, Whene'er a new discovered star appears, Astronomers, with pleasure and amaze, Upon the infant luminary gaze. They find their heaven's enlarged, and wait from thence Some blest, some more than common influence; But suddenly, alas ! the fleeting light, Eetiriug, leaves then- hopes involved in endless night. ' In 1704, Campden House was in the occupa- tion of the Dowager Countess of Burlington, and of her son the architect Earl, then in his ninth year. In the latter part of Queen Anne's reign, Campden House was sold to Nicholas Lechmere, an eminent lawyer, who became Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and Attorney-General. In 1721, he was created a peer, and Swift's ballad of Dulce upon Dulce, in which the following lines occur, had its origin in a quarrel between his lordship, who then occupied this mansion, and Sir John Guise : ' Back in the dark, by Brompton Park, He turned up through the Gore, So slunk to Campden House so high, All in his coach and four. The Duke in wrath caU'd for his steeds, And fiercely di-ove them on ; Lord ! Lord ! how rattled then thy stones, kingly Kensington ! Meanwhile, Duke Guise did fret and fume, A sight it was to see, Bemmibed beneath the evening dew, Under the greenwood tree. ' The original approach to Campden House from the town of Kensington was through an avenue of elms, which extended nearly to the High- street and great western road, through the grounds subsequently the cemetery. About the year 1798, the land in front of the house was planted with trees, which nearly cut off the view from the town ; and at the same time a new road was made to the east, and planted with a shrub- bery. About this time, Lyons describes a caper- tree, which had flourished in the garden of Campden House for more than a century. Miller speaks of it in the first edition of his Gardener s Dictionary ; it was sheltered from the north, having a south-east aspect, and though not within the reach of any artificial heat, it produced fruit every year. The olden celebrity of Campden House may be said to have ceased a century since ; for Faulk- ner, in his Sistory and Antiquities of Kensington, 1820, states it to have then been occupied more than sixty years as a boarding-school for ladies. He describes the piers of the old gateway as then surmounted by two finely sculptured dogs, the supporters of the Campden arms, which were 410 placed there when the southern avenue was re- moved in the year 1798. The mansion was built of brick, with stone finishings ; and a print of the year 1793 shews the principal or southern CAJMPDEX HOUSE. front, of three stories, to have then consisted of three bays, flanked by two square turrets, sur- mounted with cupolas ; the central bay having an enriched Jacobean entrance porch, with the Campden arms sculptured above the first-floor bay-windows ; a pierced parapet above ; and dormer windows in the roof. As usual with old mansions, as the decorated portions decay, they are not replaced ; and Faulkner's view of this front, in 1820, shews the turrets without the cupola roofs ; the main roof appears flat, and the ornamental porch has given way to a i?air of plain columns supporting the central bay-window. He describes this front as having lost most of its original ornaments, and being then covered with stucco. His view also shews the eastern end, with its baj^s and gables, its stacks of chimneys in the form of square towers, and the brickwork panelled according to the original design. The north or garden front was, at the same period, more undermined than the south front ; and westward the mansion adjoined Little Campden House. Faidkner described — two-and-forty years since, be it remembered — the entrance-hall lined with oak panelling, and having an archway leading to the grand staircase ; on the right was a large jjarlour, modernised ; and on the west were the domestic oflices. The great dining-room, in which Charles II. supped with Lord Campden, was richly carved in oak ; and the ceiling was stuccoed, and ornamented with the arms of the Campden family. But the glory of this room was the tabernacle oak mantelpiece, consisting of six Corinthian columns, supporting a pedi- ment ; the intercolumniations being filled with grotesque devices, and the whole supported by two caryatidal figures, finely carved. The state apartments on the first floor consisted of three large rooms facing the south ; that on the east, ' Queen Anne's bed-chamber,' had an enriched plaster ceiling, with pendants, and the walls were hung with red damask tapestry, in imitation of foliage. The central apartment originally had its large bay-window filled with painted glass, C'AMPDEN HOUSE. MAECH 24. MAUNDY THUBSDAV. skewing tlie arms of Sir Baptist Hicks, Lord Noel, and Sir Charles Morison ; and tlie date of the erection of the mansion, 1612. The eastern wing, on the first floor, contained ' the globe- room,' which Faulkner thought to have been originally a chapel ; but we rather think it had been the theatre for puppets, fitted up for the amusement of the young Duke of Gloucester ; it communicated with a terrace in the garden by a flight of steps, made, it is said, for the accommo- dation of the Princess Anne. The apartment adjoining that last named had its plaster ceiling enriched with arms, and a mantelpiece of various marbles. Such was the Campden House of sixty years since. Within the last dozen years, large sums had been expended upon the restoration and embellishment of the interior: a spacious theatre had been fitted up for amateur perform- ances, and the furniture and enrichments were in sumptuous taste, if not in style accordant with the period of the mansion ; but, whatever may have been their merits, the whole of the interior, its fittings and furniture, were destroyed in the conflagration of March 23 ; and before the Londoners had risen from their beds that Sunday morning, all that remained of Campden House, or ' Queen Anne's Palace/ as it was called by the people of Kensington, were its blackened and windowless walls. As the abode of the ennobled merchant of the reign of James I.; where Charles II. feasted with his loyal chamberlain ; and as the residence of the Princess, afterwards Queen Anne, and the nursing home of the heir to the British throne, Campden House is entitled^ to special record, and its disappearance to a passing note. SWALLOWING A PADLOCK. Medical men see more strange things, perhaps, than any other persons. They are repeatedly called upon to grapple with difficulties, concerning which there is no definite line of treatment generally recognised ; or to treat exceptional cases, in which the usual course of proceeding cannot with safety be adopted. If it were required to name the articles which a woman would not be likely to swallow, a brass fadlock might certainly claim a place in the list ; and we can well imagine that a surgeon woidd find his ingenuity taxed to grapple with such a case. An instance of this kind took place at Edinburgh in 1837 ; as recorded in the local journals, the particulars were as follows : On the 23d of March, the surgeons at the Royal Intirniary were called upon to attend to a critical case. About the middle of February, a woman, while engaged in some pleasantry, put into her mouth a small brass padlock, about an inch and two-thirds in length, and rather more than an inch in breadth. To her consternation, it slipped down her throat. Fear of distressing her friends led her to conceal the fact. She took an emetic, but without effect ; and for twenty-four hours she was in great pain, with a sensa- tion of suffocation in the throat. She then got better, and for more than a month suffered but little pain. Ilenowed symptoms of inconvenience led her to apply to the Infirmary. One of the professors believed the story she told ; others deemed it incredible ; and nothing immediately was done. When, however, pain, vomiting, and a sense of suffocation returned, Dr James Johnson, hosi)ital-assistant to Professor Lizars, was called upon suddenly to attend to her. He saw that either the iiadlock must be extracted, or the woman would die. An instrument was devised for the purpose by Mr Macleod, a surgical instrument maker ; and, partly by the skill of the operator, partly by the ingenious formation of the instrument, the strange mouthful was extracted from the throat. The woman recovered. MARCH 24. St IreniEus, Bishop of Sirmium, martyr, 304. St William, martyr at Norwich (aged eleven years), 1137. St Simon (an infant), martyr at Trent, 1472. The day before Good Friday has been marked from an early age of the church by acts of humility, in imitation of that of Christ in wash- ing the feet of his disciples on the eve of his passion. Ecclesiastics small and great, laymen of eminence, not excepting sovereign princes, haye_ thought it fitting, in the spirit of their religion, to lay by personal dignity on this occasion, and condescend to the menial act of washing the feet of paupers. It is in conse- quence of an associated act of charity, the dis- tribution of food in baskets, or maunds, that the day has come to be distinguished in England as Maundy Thursday. In Eome, however, and throughout Catholic Europe generally, the day is known as Holy Thursday. Another popular oM name of the day in England is Shere Thurs- day, from the custom of shearing the hair which the priesthood used to observe.* The observance of Maundy Thursday among the religious of old is duly described by Neogeor- us in his Popish Kingdom, as thus translated by ' And here the monks their maundies make with sundry solemn rites. And signs of great humility, and wondrous plea- sant sights. Each one the other's feet doth wash, and wipe them clean and dry, With hatefid mind and secret fraud, that in their hearts doth lie ; As if that Christ with his examples did these things require. And not to help cm- brethi-en here with zeal and free deshe ; Each one supplying other's want, in all things that they may. As he himself a servant made, to serve us every way. Then straight the loaves do walk, and pots in every place they skink. Wherewith the holy fathers oft to pleasant damsels drink.' Cardinal Wolsey, at Peterborough Abbey, in * By a natural inversion, maunJ and maundy have come to signify articles given in charity or from knidncss. In an old jest-book, there is a story of a rich merchant dictating a testament to a scrivener, while a poor nephew stood by, hoping to hear of something to his advantage, While the testator was still enumerating the debts due to him, the nephew cried, ' Ha, ha ! what saith my uncle now ? — does he now make his mcmndies ?' ' No,' answered the cool man of business, ' he is yet in his demands.' This is a good example of the secondary meaning. 411 MATTNDY THTJBSDAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. MAUNDY THURSDAY. of provisions. Some examples of ilie Maundy moncjj recently used by Englisk royalty are here represented. 1530, ' made liis maund in our lady's cliapel. having fifty -uiue poor men -\vlaose feet he -washed and kissed ; and after he had -niped them, he gave every of the said poor men twelve pence in money, three ells of good canvas to make them shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of red herrings, and three M'hite herrings ; and one of these had two shillings' — the u\;mber of the poor men being probably in correspondence witli the years of his age. About the same period, the Earl of JS'orthumberlaiul. on Maundy Thursday, gave to eacli of as many poor men as he was years old, and one over, a gown with a hood, a linen shirt, a platter with meat, an ashen cup filled with ■^•iiie, and a leathern purse containing as many pennies as he was years old, and one over ; besides miscellaneous gifts to be distributed in like manner in name of his ladj^ and his sons. The king of England was formerly accustomed on Maundy Thursday to have brought before him as many poor men as he was years old, whose feet he washed with his own hands, after which his majesty's maunds, consisting of meat, clothes, and money, were distributed amongst them. Queen Elizabeth, when in her thirty- ninth year, performed this ceremony at her palace of Greenwich, on which occasion she was attended by thirty -uiue ladies and gentlewomen. Thirty-nine poor persons being assembled, their feet were first washed by the yeomen of the laundry with warm water and sweet herbs, afterwards by the sub-almoner, and finally by the queen herself, kneeling; these various persons, the yeomen, the sub-almoner, and the queen, after washing each foot, marked it with the sign of the cross above the toes, and then kissed it. Clothes, victuals, and money were then distributed. This strange ceremo- nial, in which the highest was for a moment brought beneath the lowest, was last performed in its full extent by James II. King William left the washing to his almoner ; and such was the arrangement for many j^ears afterwards. 'Thursday, April 15 [1731], being Maundy Thursday, there was distributed at the Banqueting House, Whitehall, to forty-eight poor men and forty-eight poor women (the king [George II.]'s age being forty-eight), boiled beef and shoulders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, which is called dinner ; after that large wooden platters of fi.sh and loaves, viz. undressed, one large old ling, and one large dried cod ; twelve red herrings and twelve white herrings, and four half-quarter loaves. Each person had one plat- ter of this provision ; after which were distri- buted to them shoes, stockings, linen and woollen cloth, and leather bags, with one penny, two- penny, threepenny, and fourpenny pieces of silver and shillings ; to each about four pounds in value. His Grace the Lord Archbishop of York, Lord High Almoner, performed the annual ceremony of washing the feet of a certain number of poor in the Ivoyal Chapel, Whitehall, which was formerly done by the kings themselves, in imitation of our (Saviour's pattern of humility.' For a considerable number of years, the washing of the feet has been entirely given up ; and since the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, an additional sum of money has been given in lieu 412 In Austria, the old rite of the Fiissioaschincj is still kept up by the Emperor, under circum- stances of great ceremony. The ceremonies of Holy Thursday at Borne call for being described in detail. 1. Blesslnfi the Oils. — This ceremony takes place in St Peter's during mass, the cardinal arch- priest, or a bishop in his stead, officiating. There are three varieties of the oil to be blessed. The first is the oil of catechumens, used in blessing baptism, in consecrating cliurches and altars, in ordaining priests, and in blessing and crowning sovereigns. The second is the oil used in admi- nistering extreme unction to the apparently dying. Third, the sacred chrism, composed of oil and balm of Gilead or of the West Indies, and which is used in confirmation, the consecration of bishops, patens, and chalices, and in the blessing of bells. The Boman Pontifical prescribes, that besides the bishop and the usual ministers, there shoidd be present twelve priests, seven deacons, and seven sub-deacons, all habited in white vest- ments. The bishop sits down before a table facing the altar, and exorcises and blesses the oil for the sick, which is brought in by a sub- deacon. He then proceeds with the mass, during which the balsam is brought in, and also the oil for the chrism and that for the catechumens, by two deacons. The bishop blesses the balsam and mixes it with some oil ; he then breathes three times in the form of a cross over the vessel of the chrism, as do the twelve priests also. Next follows the blessing, and then the salutation of the chrism ; the latter is made three times, by the bishop and each of the twelve priests in suc- cession saying, ' Hail, holy chrism,' after which they kiss the vessel which contains it. The oil of catechumens is blessed and saluted in like manner ; and with the remaining part of the mass the rite terminates. Boman Catholic writers adduce various authorities and traditions sanctioning these ceremonies. 2. Silencincf the Bells. — In the Sistine chapel, at the performance of mass, after the Gloria in Excelsis is sung, no bells are allowed to be rung in Bome, except at the Papal benediction, until the same canticle is sung in the Papal chapel on the following Saturday morning. In other words, all the bells in Home are mute froni about half-past eleven on Thursday morning till MAUNDY THURSDAY. MAECH 24. MATTNDY THTJE8DAY. the same time on Saturday. During tliis period of two days, suck is tlie force of the custom, that hand-bells, usually employed in hotels to be rung for dinner, are silent. So likewise bells rung for school remain mute. As a substitute for bells, it is the practice to use a kind of wooden clappers, or troccola. These are in the form of wooden boxes, with some interior mechanism turned by a handle, so as to make a disagreeable clatter- ing noise. This species of troccole is said to have been used anciently by the Greeks. The silencing of the bells — a signal comfort to the ears in some parts of Eome— being prescribed in ancient rituals, is thus enforced as one of the old customs of the church. 3. Feet Washing at St Peto'^s.— The Pope, who officiates at this and other ceremonies, is this day dressed very plainly, in white, with a red cope, and a small white skull-cap ; and instead of being carried he walks, for the object of the usages in which he is concerned is to typify the humility of Christ on the night of the Last Supper. After mass at the Sistine chapel, his Holiness, about one o'clock, proceeds to the balcony over the central door of St Peter's, and there pronounces his general benediction. As this is repeated in grander style on Easter Sunday, there is usually no great concourse of spectators. Descending to the church, the Pope proceeds to the northern transept, which is fitted up for the occasion. On the north is his chair of state ; on the west and ranged along the draped wall, embellished with a tapestry picture of the Last Supper, is a bench or seat elevated on a platform so as to be con- spicuous. The other parts of the transept are fitted with seats for distinguished persons, also for ladies who are suitably dressed and provided with tickets. Just as the Pope is about to take his seat, there enter from a side door thirteen bishops dressed in high white caps and white garments. Twelve of these represent the apostles, whose feet were washed by Christ, and the thir- teenth represents an angel, who, according to the legend, appeared to Gregory the Great (590—604), while he was performing an act of charity to poor persons. These thirteen bishops, who are all habited alike, take their seats gravely on the bench along the wall, and are the objects of general attention ; for it is their feet which the Pope is about to wash. After some singing and reading of passages of Scripture, the Pope's cope is taken off! an embroidered apron is put on, and a towel is fastened to his waist by the assisting cardinal deacons ; and then he washes and kisses the right foot of each of the thirteen priests. It is to be understood that the washing is of the slightest possible kind. Little time is occupied. The ceremony terminates by each receiving from the Pope a towel and a nosegay, besides a gold and silver medal which are presented by the treasurer. The Pope now washes his hands, is re-invested in his red cope, and proceeds imme- diately to the next act of humiliation. 4. T/ie Pope Serving at Supper. — Conducted in procession from the northern transept, the Pope walks across the nave of St Peter's to a stair which leads to a large apartment above the portico. Hero a table is laid, as for a regular meal, the recipieats of which are the thirteen priests who have just been honoured by having their feet washed. He gives them water to wash their hands, helps them to soup and other dishes, and pours out wine and water for them to drink. The plates are handed to him by prelates. During the ceremony, one of his chaplains reads prayers. He then blesses them, washes his hands, and departs. The priests who are the objects of these attentions are selected from diff'erent countries by the favour of diplomatic agents. Some of them, however, are Italians, selected by officials on the spot, the captain of the Pope's Swiss guard having the privilege of appointing one. 5. The Grand Peyiitentiary. — Among the re- markable things in St Peter's, are the number of confessionals, in which are seated clergymen ready to hear the confessions of those who apply to them, and who seem so many religious sentinels at their posts. Still more to accommodate appli- cants, the confessionals, as is seen by inscriptions on them, are for the French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, English, and Greek, as well as Italian languages. Besides this usual arrangement, the Grand "Cardinal Penitentiary sits in a confessional in the afternoon of Holy Thursday to give abso- lution for mortal sins which are beyond the sphere of ordinary confession, and which cannot other- wise be absolved. This day, the altars of St Peter's are all stripped, the hundred lamps that usually burn round the tomb of St Peter are extinguished, and with the chanting of the Miserere a general gloom prevails. 6. Washing the Feet of Pilgrims.— The cere- monies connected with the so-called pilgrims, take place at the Trinita de Pellegrini, an estab- lishment adapted for accommodating pilgrims and situated in one of the populous parts of Eome. Poor persons are admitted to the benefit of the charity, who have come to visit the holy places from a greater distance than sixty miles, and who bring certificates from their bishop. The ceremonies on the evening of Holy Thursday consist in washing the feet of pilgrims of both sexes, the men in one place, and the women in another. To the female department ladies only are admitted as spectators. After the feet-washing, each class is entertained at supper. The following account of the affair is by an eye-witness in the present year : — ' I went to the feet-washing of the male pilgrims about eight o'clock. On entering a passage, I saw a tremendous crush at the further end, where there was a door opening on a lower fioor, in which the ceremony takes place. With some little squeezing, I got through the doorway, down a few step's, and found myself in a hot and close apartment, crowded nearly to suff'ocation. Along one end and side was a bench to be used as a seat, with a foot-board raised off" the floor. A paling and guards kept back the crowd. In half an hour, a troop of poor-looking people, very much resembling the ragged beggars whom one sees in the streets of Eome, entered by a side door, and ranging themselves along the bench, proceeded to take off their shoes and stockings. Several priests now appear, and one of them having read some prayers, they join the body of operators. These are gentlemen and persons in 413 MATTKDY THUKSDAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETU. business in Home, who form a confraternity devoted to tliis and other acts of charity. They are habited in a red jacket, a little cravat, and apron, and sit chatting and laughing till the tnbs with warm water are brought in, and set, one before each poor person. They now begin the operation of washing, the general remark of the on-lookers being that to all appearance the feet had previously been cleaned, so that the act of voluntary humiliation does not seem par- ticularly nauseous, nor does it last long. The priests get their hands washed by having hot water poured on them, along with a squeeze of lemon, and another prayer ends the ceremony, which, to say the least of it, is not pleasing. The pilgrims afterwards adjourn to a hall, where, at long tables, the same operators wait upon them at supper. To my mind, the whole thing had a got-up look, and one wonders how it should be perpetuated. Similar ceremonies take place in the female department, where the operators are ladies of distinction. These ceremonies are repeated on Friday and Saturday evenings. The pilgrims are lodged and otherwise entertained during this period, and are dismissed with small money presents.' At Eome, on the evening of this day, the shops of sausage-makers, candle-makers, and pork- dealers are decorated and illuminated in a fan- tastic way. The most prominent object in each is a picture of the Virgin and Child, enshrined amidst flowers and candles, as on a sort of altar. Festoons of flowers and evergreens are otherwise stuck about, and there is a profusion of patches of divers colours on the pork, candles, and other articles on the shelves. These grotesque illumi- nations draw crowds of strangers and others to witness them; the shops so lighted up doing apparently a little more business than usual. B(y,.n. — Mahomet II., 1430, Adriaiiojile ; Henry Benedict, Cardinal York, 1725, Home. Died. — Haroun-al-Raschid, twenty-fifth Caliph, 809 ; Pope Nicholas V., 1455 ; Elizabeth, Queen of England, 1603, Sheen {Richviond) ; Dr Daniel Whitby, celebrated divine, 1726, Salisbury; Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, author of the celebrated Letters, 1773, Chesterfield Eouse, May Fair; John Harrison, maker of ' The Longitude Watch,' 1776, Red Lion-square, London; Mrs Mary Tighe, classic poetess, 1810, WoodstocJc, Ireland; Bertel Thorvaldsen, Danish sculptor, 1844 ; Rev. Thomas Gis- borne, miscellaneous writer, 1846. FACSIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Elizabeth was born at Greenwich, September 7, 1533, and died March 24, 1602-3, in her seventieth year. This is one of her earliest auto- graphs, being the I signature of a letter 1 (Cott. MSS. Vesp. F. III.) written in 1558, the year of her accession to the throne. Her hand changed much for 4U the worse in her latter years. The present auto- graph is, however, slightly injured, in conse- quence of the edges of the letter having been burnt away. DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. A variety of relations and reports of the cir- cumstances of the death of this great queen are current ; but that which appears deserving of most credit has been least noticed. It is found in the manuscript diary of a contemporary, a barrister named Maningham, which is preserved among the Harleian manuscripts in the British Museum (No. 5353). Maningham was ac- quainted with men at court well situated to give him correct information, especially with the queen's chaplain, Dr Parry, and, anxious to ascertain the real condition of the queen, he went to Hichmond, where the court was then established, on the 23d of March 1603. He has entered in considerable detaU the facts of this visit. ' March 23. I was at the court at Richmond to heare Dr Parry, one of her majes- ties chaplens, preache, and be assured whether the queane were living or dead. I heard him, and was assured shee was then living.' After the service, he dined with the preacher, and gathered from him the following interesting information : * I dyned with Dr Parry in the privy chamber, and understood by him, the Bishop of Chichester, the Deane of Canterbury, the Deane of Windsore, &c., that her majestic hath bin by fits troubled with melancholy some three or four moneths ; but for this fortnight extreame oppressed with it, in soe much that she refused to eate anything, to receive any phisicke, or admit any rest in bedd, till within these two or three dayes. Shee hath bin in a manner speachlesse for two dayes ; very pensive and silent since Shrovetides, sitting some- tymes with her eye fixed upon one object many houres togither ; yet she alwayes had her perfect senses and memory, and yesterday signified by the lifting up of her hand and eyes to heven, a signe which Dr Parry entreated of hir, that shee beleeved that fayth which she had caused to be professed, and looked faythfuUy to be saved by Christ's merits and mercy onely, and no other meanes. She tooke great delight in hearing pi'ayers, would often at the name of Jesus lift up hir hands and eyes to heaven. She would not heare the archbishop speake of hope of hir longer lyfe, but when he prayed, or spake of heaven and those joyes, she would hug his hand, &c. It seems she might have lived yf she would have used meanes, but shee would not be persuaded, and princes must not be forced. Hir physicians sayd she had a body of a firme and perfect constitu- tion, likely to have ni ^anel in achievement clothing, liich windows that exclude the light. And passages that lead to nothing. Full oft within the spacious walls, When he had fifty winters o'er him. My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls ; The seal and maces danced before him. His bushy beard, and shoe-strings green, His high-crowned hat, and satin doublet, Moved the stout heart of England's Queen, Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it.' This ' grave Lord Keeper ' was Sir Christo- pher Hatton, who, it must be remarked, was never the owner or occupier of this old mansion, although generally supposed to have been so by topographers, and by commentators on Gray's Poems. The old manor-house, indeed, was not completely finished till it came into the posses- sion of Henry, the third Earl of Huntingdon, who, although it might have been burdened by a mortgage, certainly retained possession of it till his death. One of his letters now in existence is dated at Stoke, on 13th December 1592,* and among the payments after his funeral, occurs this item — ' Charges about the vendition of my Lord's goods in the county of Bucks, £8.' f This most pro- bably refers to the sale of his property at Stoke. Now Sir Christopher Hatton died in November 1591, a year before the date of the Earl's letter from Stoke, and four years before his death, which occurred in 1595. But we have more conclusive evidence to the same effect. Sir Christopher has left numerous letters from which his proceedings during the latter years of his life — the only time in which he could have been at Stoke — may be traced from month to month, almost from day to day, and not one of these letters affords the slightest indication of his connexion with Stoke.J Nor is such connexion noticed in any parish record at Stoke. The idea rests solely on tradition, and can easily be accounted for. On the death of the third Earl of Hiintingdon, Sir Edward Coke, the great lawyer, purchased the manor and resided at Stoke ; and soon after, in 1598, married for his second wife, Lady Hatton, widow of Sir William Hatton, nephew and heir of the ' Lord Keeper.' This lady was sufliciently conspicuous to stamp the name of Hatton on the traditions of Stoke. She was a daughter of Lord Burleigh, and while priding herself on her ' gentle blood,' was imperious, ofiicious, and vindictive. Erom her first husband she received a rich jointure, and retained his three places of residence in her own hands. She also retained his name after her marriage with Sir Edward Coke, who was old enough to have been her father, and towards whom she always affected great contempt. She stipulated that her marriage should be secretly performed in a private house, late in the evening, and without banns or licence. For this irregular marriage the ' great oracle of the law,' his bride, her father Lord Burleigh, and the officiating minister, were cited into the ecclesiastical court. * History of Stoke Pogis. f Bell's Huntingdon Peerage, p. 80. X See Life of Sir Christopher Hatton, by Sir Harris Nicolas. 1847. 415 OLD MANOB-HOITSE AT STOKE POGIS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD MANOR-HOUSE AT STOKE POGIS. Thus commenced ' tlie honeymoon of the happy- pair.'* Lady Ilatton next forbade her spouse to enter her house in Holborn except by a back door. For many years the stern lawyer sub- mitted to be hen-pecked in silence. At lencfth he was driven to have recourse to law ; for while he was professionally engaged in London, his faithful wife was at Stoke dismantling his house. She collected all his plate, and other valuable moveables, and carried them ofl' to one of her own houses. She is also supposed to have inllucnced Lord Bacon and others to prejudice the King against him. by casting discredit on his oiHcial pro- ceedings. Certain it is that about this time lie lost the King's favour; was deprived of his ollice as Lord Chief Justice, and advised to ' live privately at home, and take into consideration and review his book of Eeports, Avherein, as his ]M;ijesty is informed, be many extravagant and exorbitant opinions set down and published for positive and good law.' Poor Sir Edward ! — ' to live privately at home,' in a dismantled house, with a sullied reputation, and his wife enter- taining his enemies with his property, and at the expense of his character. This was too much to bear. The lion was roused ; and he who was such a stickler for the law set the law at defiance, and, forcibly entering Lady Hatton's houses in search of his property, not only carried off his own, but some of hers also. This led to legal proceedings against each other. Sir Edward accused his lady of having ' embezzled all his gilt and silver plate and vessell, and instead thereof foisted in alkumy of the same sorte, fashion, and use, with the illusion to have cheated him of the other.' Lady Hatton, on her part, alleged that ' Sir Edward broke into Ilatton House, seased upon my coach and coach horses, nay, my apparel, which he detains ; thrast all my servants out of doors without wages, sent down his men to Corfe Castle [another of her ladyship's residences] to inventory, seize, ship, and carry away all the goods, which being refused him by the castle-keeper, he threats to bring your lordship's warrant for the performance thereof. Stop, then, his high tyrannical courses; for I have suffered beyond the measure of any wife, mother, nay, of any ordinary woman in this kingdom, without respect to my father, my birth, my fortunes, with which I have so highly raised him.' Judgment was given in favour of Lady Hatton ; and a reconciliation took place, for Sir Edward ' flattered himself she woidd still prove a very good wife.' In the following year these domestic broils took another course. Sir Edward Coke and Lady Hatton had one child, a daiighter, and when she was about fourteen years old, her father negotiated for her marriage with Sir John Villiers, brother of Buckingham, the King's favourite, hoping through this alliance to regain the King's favour. The proposal was graciously received, and Sir Edward was delighted with the prospect of success. It is true that his wife and daughter, who were then residing with him at Stoke, did not relish his scheme ; but tliis did * Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature, and The Storij of Corfe Cnstle, by Bankes, 416 not much trouble him, as he considered that his daughter, in such a case, was bound to obey her fiither's mandate. Highly gratified with this prospect, he retired to rest, and enjoyed a quiet, undisturbed slumber. But the first intelligence of the morning was that Lady Hatton and her daughter had left Stoke at midnight, and no one knew where they were gone. Here was a blow to his promising scheme. Day after day passed, and 3'et he could learn no tidings of the fugitives. At last he ascertained that tliey were concealed at Oatlands, a house then rented by a cousin of Lady Hatton. Without waiting for a warrant. Sir Edward, accompanied by a dozen sturdy men, all well armed, hastened to Oatlands, and, after two hours' resistance, took the house by assault and battery. This curious piece of family warfare is admirably described by Lady Hatton herself as ' Sir Edward Cook's most notorious riot, committed at my Lord of Arguyl's house, when, without constable or warrant, asso- ciated with a dozen fellows well weaponed, with- out cause being beforehand offered, to have what he would, he took down the doors of the gate- house and of the house itself, and tore the daughter in that barbarous manner from the mother, and would not suffer the mother to come near her.' Having thus gained possession of his daughter, he carried her off to Stoke, locked her up in an upper chamber, and kept the key of the door in his pocket. Lady Hatton made an attempt to recover her daughter by forcible means ; but to her astonishment, for this attempt, and her other proceedings, her husband, now fortified by the King's favour, succeeded in throwing her into prison. Thus with his wife incarcerated in a public prison, and his daughter safely locked up in his own house, the great lawyer, to use his own expression, ' had got upon his wings again,' and forced both his wife and daughter to promise a legal consent to the marriage. Lady Hatton was even induced by the severities of prison to write to the king and promise to settle her lands on her daughter and Sir John Villiers. Thus Sir Edward Coke effected his object. His daughter and Sir John Villiers were married in 1617, at Hampton Court, in the presence of the King and Queen and all the chief nobility of England. The bridal banquet was most splendid, and a masque was performed in the evening ; but Lady Hatton was still in confinement. Shortly afterwards she was liberated, and gave a magni- ficent entertainment at Hatton Hovise, which was honoured by the presence of the King and Queen, but Sir Edward Coke and all his servants were peremptorily excluded. Two years afterwards Sir John Villiers was raised to the peerage, as Vis- count Purbeck and Baron Villiers of Stoke Pogis. But the sequel of these family broils was melan- choly. Lady Purbeck deserted her husband, and lived with Sir Eobert Howard, which rapidly brought on her degradation, imprisonment, and an early death. Lady Hatton pursued her husband with rancorous hatred, and openly avowed her impatience for his death. A report of his death having one day reached her, she immediately left London for Stoke to take possession of his man- sion, but on reaching Colubrook, she met one of OLD MANOE-nOUSE AT STOKE POGIS. MAECH 25. THE ANNUNCIATION. his physicians, who informed her of his amend- ment. On hearing this she returned to London in evident disappointment. Sir Edward, in his solitary old age, must have viewed the fruits of his own scheme with bitter compunction. When eighty years of age, we are told, he ' felt himself alone on the earth, was suspected by his king, deserted by his friends, and detested by his wife.' His only domestic solace, during the last two years of his life, was the company of his daughter. Lady Purbeck, who, much to her credit, left her paramour to watch over the last hours of her aged father. Three days before his death, being suspected of possessing seditious writings, his peace was disturbed by Sir Francis Windebank, who came with an order of Council to search his papers, and who carried off more than fifty manuscripts, including his will, which were not returned to the family till 1641. Sir Edward Coke died on the 3rd of September 1634, in his eighty-fourth year. Lady Purbeck then left Stoke, and soon after was imprisoned in the Gatehouse at Lambeth.* Lady Hatton now took possession of the old manor-house, and occasionally resided in it till her death in 1644. From her, who must have long been the subject of local gossip, the name of Hatton might well be mixed up with the tra- ditions of Stoke ; and Gray, by poetic licence, or from want of better information, applied it to the Lord Keeper, who certainly never possessed the old manor-house, nor ' led the brawls ' in it. It was, however, honoured by the presence of his royal mistress. Queen Elizabeth, in 1601, paid a visit at Stoke to Sir Edward Coke, who enter- tained her very sumptuously, and presented her on the occasion with jewels worth from ten to twelve hundred pounds, f In 1647, the old manor-house was for some days the residence of Charles I., when a prisoner in the custody of the parliamentary army. J It would have been visited by another of our monarchs had not its then owner refused to admit him. This was Sir Robert Gayer, who, by the bequest of his brother, came into possession of the manor in 1657. At the coronation of Charles II. this eccentric gen- tleman was made a knight of the Bath, which so strengthened his previous attachment to the House of Stuart that he never would be recon- ciled to any other dynasty. Soon after Wil- liam III. had ascended the throne, he visited Stoke, and signified his desire to see the old manor-house. But the irascible old knight burst into a violent rage, vehemently declaring that the king should never come under his roof. ' He has already,' said he, ' got possession of another man's house — he is an usurper — tell him to go back again ! ' Lady Gayer expostulated ; she entreated ; she even fell on her knees, and besought her husband to admit the king, who was then actually waiting at tlie gate. AH her efforts were useless. The obstinate knight only became more furious, vociferating — ' An English- man's house is his castle. I shall open and close my door to whom I please. The king, * Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature, vo], v. p. 1 — 18. Bankes' Story of Corf e Castle, pp. 36—57. t Lysons' Magna Britannia. + Idem. 27 I say, shall not come within these walls !' So his majesty returned as he came, — a stranger to tlie inside of the mansion, and the old knight gloried in his triumph.* Thus the old manor-house at Stoke was pos- sessed by some very remarkable characters ; it entertained one sovereign in all the state and magnificence of royalty ; it received another as a prisoner in the custody of his own subjects ; it closed its doors against a third, and dismissed him as though he had been an insignificant intruder, and after having thus witnessed the strange and changing scenes of two centuries and a half, it was itself pulled down, with the exception of one wing, in 1789, by its then owner, Granville Penn, Esq., a descendant of the celebrated William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania. The existing wing of the old house, though only a portion of an inferior part of the mansion, affords a specimen of Tudor archi- tecture, and conveys some idea of the internal arrangement of the aristocratic residences of that period. W. H. K. MARCH 25. The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Lady Day). St Cammin, of Ireland, abbot. E^z ^nuunxxatioiT. This day is held in the Eoman Catholic Church as a great festival, in the Anglican Reformed Church as a feast, in commemoration of the message of the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, informing her that the Word of God was become flesh. In England it is commonly called Ladi/ Day ; in France, N'otre Dame de Mars. It is a very ancient institution in the Latin Church. Among the sermons of St Augustine, who died in 430, are two regarding the festival of the Annunciation. ' In representations of the Annunciation, the Virgin Mary is shewn kneeling, or seated at a table reading. The lily (her emblem) is usually placed between her and the angel Gabriel, who holds in one hand a sceptre surmounted by a fleur-de-lis, on a lily stalk ; generally a scroll is proceeding from his mouth with the words Ave Maria gratia plena ; and sometimes the Holy Spirit, represented as a dove, is seen descending towards the Virgin.' — Calendar of the Anglican Ckurck.i In the work here quoted, we find a statement affording strong proof of the high veneration in which the Virgin was formerly held in England, as she still is in Catholic countries ; namely, that no fewer than two thousand one hundred and twenty churches were named in her sole honour, besides a hundred and two in which her name was associated with that of some other saint. Born. — Archbishop John Williams, 1,'582, Abercomuay ; Bishop George liull, 1634, Wells ; Sir Kichard Cox, Lord Chancellor of Ireland, 1650, i^anc^o/i ; Joachim Murat, King of Naples, 1771, Bastide Frontonitre, * Lipscomb's Bucks, vol. iv. in loco. t J. H. Parker, Oxford and London, 1851. 417 GOOD FEIDAT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. WASHING MOLLY GEIME. Died. — Sir Thomas Elyot, eminent English writer, temp. Henry VIII., 1546; Bishop Aldrich, 1556, Horn- castle; Archbishop John Wilhams, 1650, Llandegay ; Ilcury Cromwell, fourth son of the Protector, 1674, Soham, Cambridgeshire ; Nchemiah Grew, celebrated for his work on the Anatomy of Vegetables, 1711; Anna Seward, miscellaneous writer, 1809, Lichfield. #O0b clfribag. Tlio clay of tlie Passion has been held as a festival by the Church from the earliest times. In England, the day is one of two (Christmas being the other) on which all business is sus- pended. In the chui'ches, which are generally well attended, the service is marked by an unusual solemnity. Before the change of religion, Good Friday was of course celebrated in England with the same religious ceremonies as in other Catholic countries. A dressed figure of Christ being mounted on a crucifix, two priests bore it round the altar, with doleful chants ; then, laying it on the ground with great tenderness, they fell beside it, kissed its hands and feet with piteous sighs and tears, the other priests doing the like in succession. Afterwards came the people to worship the assumedly dead Saviour, each bringing some little gift, such as corn and eggs. There was finally a most ceremonious burial of the image, along with the 'singing bread,' amidst the light of torches and the burning of incense, and with flowers to strew over the grave. The king went through the ceremony of blessing certain rings, to be distributed among the people, who accepted them as infaEible cures for cramp. Coming in state into his chapel, he found a crucifix laid upon a cushion, and a carpet spread on the ground before it. The monarch crept along the carpet to the crucifix, as a token of his humility, and there blessed the rings in a silver basin, kneeling aU the time, with his almoner likewise kueeliag by his side. After this was done, the queen and her ladies came in, and likewise crept to the cross. The blessing of cramp-rings is believed to have taken its rise in the efiicacy for that disease supposed to reside in a ring of Edward the Confessor, which used to be kept in Westminster Abbey. There can be no doubt that a belief in the medical power of the cramp-ring was once as faithfully held as any medical maxim whatever. Lord Berners, the accomplished translator of Froissart, while am- bassador in Spain, wrote to Cardinal Wolsey, June 21, 1518, entreating him to reserve a few cramp-rings for him, adcfing that he hoped, with God's grace, to bestow them well. A superstition regarding bread baked on Good Friday appears to have existed from an early period. Bread so baked was kept by a famUy aU through the ensuing year, under a behef that a few gratings of it in water would prove a specific for any ailment, but particiJarly for diarrhoea. We see a memorial of this ancient superstition in the use of what are called hot cross-buns, which may now be said to be the most prominent popular observance connected with the day. In London, and all over England (not, how- ever, in Scotland), the morning of Good Friday is ushered in with a universal cry of Hot Cross- Buns ! A parcel of them appears on every break- fast table. It is a rather small bun, more than xisually spiced, and having its brown sugary sur- face marked with a cross. Thousands of poor children and old frail people take up for this day the business of disseminating these quasi-religious cakes, only intermitting the duty during church hours ; and if the eagerness with which young and old eat them could be held as expressive of an appropriate sentiment within their hearts, the English might be deemed a pious people. The ear of every person who has ever dwelt in Eng- land is fanuliar with the cry of the street bun- vendors : One a penny, buns. Two a penny, buns, One a penny, two a penny, Hot cross-buus ! Whether it be from fading appetite, the chilling effects of age, or any other fault in ourselves, we cannot say ; but it strikes us that neither in the bakers' shops, nor from the baskets of the street- vendors, can one now get hot cross-buns compar- able to those of past times. They want the spice, the crispness, the everything they once had. Older people than we speak also with mourn- ful aff'ection of the two noted bun-houses of Chelsea. Nay, they were Royal bun-houses, if their signs could be believed, the popular legend always insinuating that the King himself had stopped there, bought, and eaten of the buns. Early in the present century, families of the middle classes walked a considerable way to taste the delicacies of the Chelsea bun-houses, on the seats beneath the shed which screened the pavement in front. An insane rivalry, of course, existed between the two houses, one pretending to be The Chelsea Bun-house, and the other the Heal Old Original Chelsea Bun-house. Heaven knows where the truth lay, but one thing was certain and assured to the innocent pubHc, that the buns of both were so very good that it was utterly impossible to give an exclusive verdict in favour of either. A writer, signing himself H. C. B., gives in the Athenmim for April 4, 1857, an account of an ancient sculpture in the Museo Borbonico at Eome, representing the miracle of the five barley loaves. The loaves are marked each with a cross on the surface, and the circumstance is the more remarkable, as the hot cross-bun is not a part of the observance of the day on the Con- tinent. H. C. B. quotes the late Eev. G. S. Faber for a train of speculation, having for its conclusion that our eating of the hot cross - buns is to be traced back to a pagan custom of worshipping the Queen of Heaven with cakes — a custom to be found alike in China and in ancient Mexico, as well as many other countries. In Egypt, the cakes were horned to resemble the sacred heifer, and thence called bous, which in one of its obUque cases is botc7i — in short, bun ! So people eating these hot cross-buns little know what, in reality, they are about. WASHING MOLLY GRIME. In the church of Glentham, Lincolnshire, there is a tomb with a figure, popularly called GOOD FEIDAT IN EOME. MAECH 25. GOOD FRIDAY AT MONACO. Molly Grime; and this figure was regularly- washed every Good Friday by seven old maids of Glentham, with water brought from Newell Well, each receiving a shilling for her trouble, in consequence of an old bequest connected with some property in that district. About 1832, the property being sold without any reservation of the rent-charge of this bequest, the custom was discontinued.* GOOD FRIDAY IN ROME. At Rome, the services in the churches on Good Friday are of the same solemn character as on the preceding day. At the Sistine Chapel, the yellow colour of the candles and torches, and the nakedness of the Pope's throne and of the other seats, denote the desolation of the church. The cardinals do not wear their rings ; their dress is of purple, which is their wearing colour ; in like manner, the bishops do not wear rings, and their stockings are black. The mace, as well as the soldiers' arms, are reversed. The Pope is habited in a red cope ; and he neither wears his ring nor gives his blessing. A sermon is preached by a conventual friar. Among other ceremonies, which we have not space to describe, the crucifix is partially unveiled, and kissed by the Pope, whose shoes are taken off on approaching, to do it homage. A procession takes place (across a vestibule) to the Paolina Chapel, where mass is celebrated by the Grand Penitentiary. In the afternoon, the last Miserere is chanted in the Sis- tine Chapel, on which occasion the crowding is very great. After the Miserere, the Pope, cardinals, and other clergy, proceed through a covered passage to St Peter's, in order to venerate the relics of the True Cross, the Lance, and the Volto Santo, which are shewn by the canons from the balcony above the statue of St Veronica. Notwithstanding the peculiar solem- nity of the religious services of the day, the shops, public offices, and places of business, also the palazzos where galleries of pictures are shewn, are open as usual — the only external indications of the religious character of the day being the muteness of the bells. This disregard of Good Friday at Eome contrasts strangely with the fact, that Poman Catholics shut their shops and abstain from business on that day in Scotland and other countries where it is in no respect a legal non dies. THE MYSTERY PLAY OF GOOD FRIDAY AT MONACO. The principality of Monaco is one of the smallest, yet one of the prettiest, possessions in the world. Three short streets, an ancient chateau well fortified, good barracks, a tolerably large square or place, a church, and fine public gardens, placed on a rock which descends perpendicularly into the Mediterranean five hundred feet deep, and you have there the whole of this Lilliputian principality. High mountains rise behind the town, and shelter it from the north wind, whilst the mildness of the climate is attested by the vigorous growth of the palm trees and cactus, which stretches its knotty arms, set with thorns, over the rocks, reminding the passer-by of beggars * Edwards's Remarhahk Charities, 100. who hold out their malformations or solicit atten- tion by their contortions. The mountain tops dazzle you with their snowy mantle, whilst the gardens are filled with the sweet perfume of Bengal roses, orange blossom, geraniums, and Barbary figs, which seem to have found here their natal soil. This little spot was given in the tenth century to the Grimaldi famUy, of Genoa, by a special favour of the Emperor, but it was a source of continual jealousy ; the Eepublic of Genoa attacking it on the one side, and Charles of Anjou on the other. In 1300 it was restored to the Grimaldi, but shortly after fell into the hands of the Spinolas, an equally illustrious Genoese famUy, when it became one of the centres for the Ghibelliu faction. Yet in 1329 it was restored to its rightful owners, and remained in their hands by the female side up to the last prince. The chateau is an interesting edifice of the middle ages, with its two towers and double gallery of arcades. The court is large, and adorned with fine frescoes by Horace de Ferrari ; whilst the staircase is as magnificent as that at Fontaine- bleau, and entirely of white marble. "We wUl enter this little city with the crowd of strangers which the procession of Good Friday annually collects. ^Yhen the services of the evening are over, about nine o'clock preparations are made for a display which is allegorical, symbolical, and historical; the intention is to depict the difierent scenes of Christ's passion, and his path to the cross. The members of a brother- hood a<}t the diff'erent parts, and a special house preserves the costumes, decorations, lay figures, and other articles necessary for the representa- tion. Torches are lighted, and the drums of the national guard supply the place of bells, which are wanting. There are numbers of stations on the way to Calvary, and a difi'erent scene enacted at each ; the same person who represents Christ does not do so throughout, but there is one who drinks the vinegar, another who is scourged, another bears the cross. Each is re- presented by an old man with white hair and beard, clothed in scarlet robes, a crown of thorns, and the breast painted with vermilion to imitate drops of blood. The four doctors of the law wear black robes and an advocate's cap ; from time to time they draw a large book from their pocket, and appearing to consult together, shew by significant gestures that the text of the law is decisive, and they can do no other than condemn Jesus. Pontius Pilate is near to them, escorted by a servant, who carries a large white parasol over his head ; whilst the Eoman prefect wears the dress of the judge of an assize court, short breeches and a black toga. Behind this majestic personage walks a slave in a large white satin mantle, carrying a silver ewer, which he presents to the Governor when he pronounces the words ' I wash my hands of it.' King Herod is not forgotten in the group ; he will be recognised by his long scarlet mantle, his wig with three rows of curls, his grand waistcoat, and gUt paper crown placed on his grey hair. Then comes the Colonel of Pontius Pilate s Army (so described in the list), distinguished by his great height and extreme leanness: his white trousers were 419 GOOD FEIDAT AT MONACO. THE BOOK OF DAYS. TnE HOLT COAT OF TREVES. fastened round liis \ea:s after the fashion of the Gauls, ho had a Eomaii cuirass, the epaulettes of a general, a long rapier, white silk stockings, a .gigantic helmet, over wliich towered a still higher plume of feathers. This railitarj^ figure Avas mounted on a horse of the small Sardinian breed, 8o that the legs of the rider touched the ground. St Peter with the cock, Thomas the incredulous, the Pharisees and Scribes, were all there ; none were forgotten. As for Judas, his occupation consisted in thi-owing himself every moment into his master's arms, and kissing him in a touohing manner. Adam and Eve must not be forgotten, under the form of a young boy and girl, in cos- tumes of Louis Quinze, with powdered wigs, and eating apples off the bough of an orange tree ! The procession advances ; the Jewish nation, represented by young persons dressed in blue blouses with firemen's helmets, form in rank to insult the martyred God as he passes. Here it is a tall rustic who gives him a blow with his fist ; there a woman otfers vinegar and gall ; still further, the Konian soldiers, at a signal from the beadle, throw themselves forward, lance in hand, and make a feint of piercing him with sanguinary fury, drawing back only to repeat the same formidable movement. The Jews brandish mena- cing axes, whilst the three Maries, dressed in black, their faces covered with lugubrious veils, weep and lament bitterly. Finally, there is Christ on the cross, and Christ laid in the tomb ; but this part of the scene is managed by puppets suitably arranged. If we place all these scenes in the narrow old streets of Monaco, passing through antique arcades, and throw over the curious spectacle the trembling light of a hundred torches and a thou- sand wax lights, the stars shining in the dark blue sky. the distant chanting of the monks, the charm of mystery and poetry, and the scent of orange blossoms and geraniums, we shall feel that we have retrograded many centuries, and can fancy ourselves transported into the dark middle ages, to the time when the mystery plays, of which this is a relic, replaced the Greektragedy. £:ije l^oIjT (Coat of ZxibcB, The ancient archiepiscopal city of Treves, on the Moselle, is remarkable for possessing among its cathedral treasures, the coat reputed to be that worn by the Saviour at his execution, and for which the soldiers cast lots. Its history is curious, and a certain antiquity is connected with it, as with many other ' relics ' exhibited in the Eoman Catholic Church, and which gives them an interest irrespective of their presumed sacred character. This coat was the gift of the famed Empress Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, and the ' discoverer ' of so large a number of memorials of the founders of Christianity. In her day, Treves was the capital of Belgic Gaul, and the residence of the later Roman Emperors ; it is recorded that she converted her palace into the Cathedral, and endowed it with this treasure — the seamless coat of the Saviour. That it was a treasure to the Cathedral and city is apparent from the records of great pilgrimages performed at intervals during the middle ages, when this coat was exhibited ; each pilgrim offered money 420 to the shrine, and the town was enriched by their general expeiuliture. Unlike other famed relics, this coat was always exhibited sparingly. The Church generally displays its relics at intervals of a few years, but the Holy Coat was only seen once in a century ; it was then put away by the chief authorities of the Cathedral in some secret place known only to a few. In Murray's Hand- hook for Traveller,^, 1841, it is said, ' The existence of this relic, at present, is rather doubtful — at least, it is not visible ; the attendants of the church say it is walled up.' All doubts were soon after removed, for in 1844 the Archbishop Arnoldi announced a centenary jubilee, at which the Holy Coat was to be exhibited. It produced a great efi'ect, and Treves exhibited such scenes as would appear rather to belong to the fourteenth than the nineteenth century. Pilgrims came from all quarters, many in large bands preceded by banners, and marshalled by their village priests. It was impossible to lodge the great mass of these foot-sore travellers, and they slept on inn-stairs, in outhouses, or even in the streets, with their wallets for their pillows. By the first dawn they took up their post by the Cathedral doors ; and long before these were opened, a line of many hundreds was added : sometimes the line was more than a mile in length, and few persons could reach the high altar where the coat was placed in less time than three hours. The heat, dust, and fatigue were too much for many, who fainted by the way ; yet hour after hour, a dense throng passed round the interior of the Cathedral, made their oblation, and retired. The coat is a loose garment with wide sleeves, very simple in form, of coarse material, dark brown in colour, probably the result of its age, and entirely without seam or decoration. Our cut is copied from the best of the prints published THE HOLY COAT OF TKEVE.'J. PENITENT -WITH CROWN OF THOENS. MAECH 26. HOLY SATUEDAY IN EOME. at Treves during the jubilee, and will convey a clear impression of a celebrated relic wbich few are destined to examine. The dimensions given on this engraving state that the coat measures from the extremity of each sleeve, 5 feet 5 inches ; the length from collar to the lowermost edge being 5 feet 2 inches. In parts it is tender, or threadbare ; and some few stains upon it are reputed to be those of the Kedeemer's blood. It is reputed to have worked many miracles in the way of cures, and its efficacy has never been doubted in Treves. The eclat which might have attended the exhibition of 1844, was destined to an opposition from the priestly ranks of the Eoman Catholic Church itself. Johann Kouge, who already had become conspicuous as a foremost man among the reforming clergy of Germany, addressed an eloquent epistle to the Archbishop of Treves, indignantly denouncing a resuscitation of the superstitious observances of the middle ages. This letter produced much effect, and so far excited the wrath of Rome, that Eonge was excommunicated ; but he was far from weakened thereby. Before the January of the following year he was at the head of an organized body of Catholics prepared to deny the supremacy of Eome ; but the German governments, alarmed at the spread of freedom of opinion, suppressed the body thus called into vitality, and Eonge was ultimately obliged to leave his native land. In 1850 he came to England, and it is somewhat curious to reflect that the bold priest who alarmed Eome, lives the quiet life of a teacher in the midst of busy London, very few of whose inhabitants are conversant with the fact of his residence among them. PJi^'ITE^T WITH CROWN OF THORNS, In the Lent processions of Penitents which take place in the Southern Italian states, the persons who form them are so completely en- veloped in a peculiar dress that nothing but the eyes and hands are visible. A long white gown covers the body, and a high pointed hood en- velops the head, spi-eading like a heavy tippet over the shoulders ; holes are cut to allow of sight, but there are none for breathing. The sketch here engraved was made at Palermo, in Sicily, on the Good Friday of 1861, and displays these peculiarities, with the addition of others, seldom seen even at Eome. Each penitent in the procession wore upon the hood a crown of thorns twisted round the brow and over the head. A thick rope was passed round the neck, and looped in front of the breast, in which the uplifted hands of the penitent rested in the attitude of prayer. Thus, deprived of the use of hands and almost of sight, the slow movement of these lines of penitents through the streets was regulated by the clerical officials who walked beside and marshalled them. ITALIAN PENrrENT IN LENT PKOCESSIONS. MARCH 26. St Braulio, Bishop of Saragossa, 646. St Ludger, Bishop of Munster, Apostle of Saxony, 809. HOLY SATURDAY IN ROME. On the reading of a particular passage in the service of the Sistine Chapel, which takes place about half-past eleven o'clock, the bells of St Peter's are rung, the guns of St Angelo are fired, and all the bells in the city immediately break forth, as if rejoicing in their renewed liberty of ringing. This day, at St Peter's, the only cere- mony that need be noticed is the blessing of the fire and the paschal candle. For this purpose, new fire, as it is called, is employed. At the beginning of mass, a light, from which the caudles and the charcoal for the incense is en- kindled, is struck from a flint in the sacristy, where the chief sacristan privately blesses the water, the fire, and the five grains of incense which are to be fixed in the paschal candle. Formerly, all the fires in Eome were lighted anew from this holy fire, but this is no longer the case. After the service, the cardinal vicar Xn-oceeds to the baptistry of St Peter's ; there having blessed and exorcised the water for baptism, and dipped into the paschal candle, concludes by sprinkling some of the water on the people. Catechumens are afterwards baptized, and deacons and priests are ordained, and the tonsure is given. Born. — Conrad Gesner, eminent scholar and naturalist, 1516, Zurich; William Wollaston, author of The ReU