II.

J. Cook respectfully solicits the public will favour the following _incomparably advantageous plan_ with attention, by which _upwards of thirty-two thousand chances for obtaining a prize (out of the forty-eight thousand tickets) are given in one policy_.

POLICIES OF FIVE GUINEAS _with three numbers_, with the first number will gain

20000 if a prize of £20000 10000 £10000 5000 £ 5000

_with the second number_ will gain

6000 guineas if 20000 3000 10000 1500 5000

_with the third number_ will gain

3000 guineas if 20000 1500 10000 1200 5000

* * * * *

In the lottery act of 1782 there was a clause designed to prevent the insurance of tickets by any method. The lottery-office keepers persisted in their devices, and the magistrates enforced the law.

About the beginning of January 1785 several lottery-office keepers were convicted, before the lord mayor and aldermen, in penalties of fifty pounds each for insuring numbers contrary to law; and in Trinity term the following cause was tried at Westminster, before lord Loughborough.

A lottery-office keeper near Charing-cross was plaintiff, and the sheriff of Middlesex defendant. The action was to recover one thousand five hundred and sixty-six pounds, levied by the sheriff, about a year past, on the plaintiff’s goods, by virtue of three writs of _fieri facias_, issued from the court of King’s-bench. It seems that the above plaintiff was convicted in three penalties of five hundred pounds each, for insuring lottery tickets; but previous to the trial’s coming on, for some indulgence, he had, by himself or agents, consented not to bring any writ of error, and an order of _nisi prius_ was drawn up, and served upon his attorney; notwithstanding which, three writs of error were sued out. The court of King’s-bench being then moved, made an order that the executions should be levied according to the original rule of court: the sheriff made the levy, and the money being paid and impounded in his hands, the above action was brought to get the same returned. The novelty of the action caused much laughter among the counsel, and, after a few minutes’ hearing, his lordship ordered the plaintiff to be nonsuited.[479]

LOTTERY WOOD CUTS.

It is to be remarked, that at this period engravings on their printed addresses do not seem to have been resorted to by the lottery-schemers as they have been since, for the purpose of stimulating attention to their plans. No subject of the kind therefore can be given, to illustrate their proceedings at the time now under review; but on arriving, as we shall presently, at days nearer our own, they crowd upon us, and _several_ will be given in the next sheet as specimens of their ingenuity and taste.

CHARLES PRICE, _alias_ PATCH, &c.

This man was a lottery-office keeper. His notoriety and his fate render him one of the most remarkable characters of the age wherein he lived; it is therefore proposed to give a brief outline of his life.

His father, Charles Price, was “by trade a tailor.” He came from South Wales, about the year 1702, and worked at several places in London, till in 1710 he got into Monmouth-street, as journeyman to a salesman there. By strict application he was, in a few years, enabled to set up as a master, and kept a saleshop the corner of Earl-street and West-street, Seven Dials. Some time previous to this he had married a woman who bore a very good character. He was very clever in his business, but illiterate; yet exceedingly artful, and the flower of Monmouth-street for oratory in the sale of his goods: at the same time, he was sincere in his friendships, despised downright knavery, and had a regard to reputation. His eldest son, Thomas, was bred to his father’s business. One Creed, a salesman in Rosemary-lane, used to send him with a cart loaded with goods round the country; and Creed dying, Thomas decamped with the produce of one journey, about 200_l._ For this, and for similar acts of knavery in his brother Charles, he left them only a shilling each, and bequeathed the rest of his property to his daughter. Thomas died young.

Charles, the hero of our history, when about six years of age, was sent to school, where he acquired the rudiments of the French language, and was so neglected in his own, that he was complete in neither. At about twelve years’ old he was taken home to assist his father, where he soon gave proofs of address similar to the following.

A sailor who had staggered to Monmouth-street to buy some clothes, was caught by Charles at the corner, and introduced by him into a room, where, in a summer’s noon, it was hardly possible to distinguish blue from black, or green from blue. The honest tar was shown a coat and waistcoat, the real value of which was about two guineas. Though they were considerably too little, Charles squeezed him up, and persuaded him they fitted exactly. The price being demanded, Charles declared upon his honour the lowest farthing he could take was five guineas. The sailor put his hand in his pocket, and laid down the money. Charles stepped down to his father’s journeyman, under pretence of getting something to put the clothes in, and told him the customer he met with, and that he might as well have had six guineas as five. “Do you,” said he, “follow me up stairs, inquire what I have done, pretend to be very angry, swear they cost you six guineas, give me two or three kicks or cuffs, and I dare swear we shall get more money out of him, and then, as my father is not at home, you shall go halves in all we get above the five guineas.” The scheme was readily acquiesced in by the journeyman. Charles slipped up stairs; the journeyman followed, inquiry, blame, and sham blows ensued; the journeyman declared the clothes cost him six guineas out of his pocket, and was going to beat Charles again, when the sailor cried, “Avast, master, don’t beat the boy, if he has made a mistake in a guinea, why here it is;” and laying it down, departed well pleased with his bargain, and that he had saved the lad a drubbing by the insignificant trifle of an additional guinea. Charles gave his father two guineas, the journeyman half a one, and kept three guineas and a half to himself.

The father soon experienced the effects of his son’s knavery, and put him apprentice to a hatter and hosier in St. James’s-street, with a considerable premium, hoping that his conduct would be quite different from what it had been at home; but his master had almost as much reason to complain of him as his father. Among his other frauds was the following: he robbed his father of an elegant suit of clothes, in which he dressed himself and went to his master, of whom he purchased about ten pounds’ worth of silk stockings, leaving his address, Benjamin Bolingbroke, esq., Hanover-square, and ordering them to be sent in an hour’s time, when he would pay the person who brought them. Incredible as it may appear, his master did not know him; to complete the cheat, he came back in half an hour, in his usual dress, and was ordered to take the goods home, which he actually pretended to do, and thus robbed his master. Having been detected in his villainies, he ran away; and his father, in detestation of his principles, disinherited him, soon afterwards died, and was buried at Lambeth. It may be remarked, that he was the first corpse carried over Westminster-bridge, which was on the first day it was free for carriages, when multitudes flocked to see the opening of the new structure.

Before his father’s death, Charles Price became a gentleman’s servant, and in that capacity lived some years, till he got into the service of sir Francis Blake Delaval, went with him the tour of Europe, returned to England, and through sir Francis, who was the companion of the celebrated Samuel Foote, became comedian. He acted a principal part in the scheme by which sir Francis obtained his lady, with a very large fortune. She went to consult a conjuror, and Foote performed the character to the satisfaction of his friend. Price afterwards contrived to conjure Foote out of 500_l._ in a sham scheme in a brewery, wherein that gentleman and Price were concerned. Price was made a bankrupt, and afterwards set up in a distillery, defrauded the revenue, was sent to the King’s-bench, released by an insolvent act, again turned brewer, and defrauded a gentleman out of 6000_l._ through one of his disguises. He then became a lottery-office keeper and stockbroker, gambled in the alley, was ruined, again set up lottery-office keeper, courted a Mrs. Pounteney, and ran away with her niece, who was the daughter of justice Wood, in the Borough. He practised innumerable frauds, became an adept in swindling, and had the effrontery to avow his depredations, and laugh at those he injured.

Price was intimate with a Mr. R----s, a grocer retired from business, with whom he had for a long time passed as a stockbroker. Price, who then lived at Knightsbridge, frequently used to request the favour of Mr. R. to take a bank-note or two into the city, and get them changed into small ones. In this he had a two-fold plot. He informed his friend that he was intimately acquainted with a very old gentleman, exceedingly rich, who had been an eminent broker in the alley, but had long retired; that his monies in the funds were immense; that the only relation he had in the world was one sister, to whom he intended to bequeath the best part of his property; and that his sister was near fifty years of age, had never been married, and determined never to marry; and that it was impossible the old gentleman could live long, as he was very old, very infirm, and almost incapable of going out of doors. This old gentleman, Price said, had often asked him to become his executor; and besought him to recommend another person, in whose fidelity, character, and integrity, he could repose an entire confidence, and that he would make it well worth their while, if they would undertake so friendly and solemn an office.--“Now,” said Price to Mr. R., “here is an opportunity for us to make a considerable sum in a short time, and, in all probability, a very capital fortune in a few years; for the sister being determined not to marry, and having no relations in the world, there is no doubt but she will leave us the whole of the estate; and, after his decease, she will become totally dependent upon us.--I shall see the old gentleman, Mr. Bond, to-day, and if you will join in the trust, the will shall be immediately made.”

[Illustration: ~Charles Price, the Arch-Imposter,~

IN HIS USUAL DRESS--AND IN DISGUISE.]

To this proposal Mr. R. consented. In the evening Price returned to Knightsbridge. He told Mr. R. that he had visited Mr. Bond, who expressed great happiness and easiness of mind on such a recommendation, and desired to see Mr. R. the next day. Price appointed to meet him at twelve o’clock at Mr. Bond’s. At the appointed hour, Mr. R. knocked at the door. He was shown up stairs by the aforementioned sister-lady, and introduced to Mr. Bond, seated in a great chair, his legs in another, and covered with a night-cap. The poor, infirm, weak, debilitated, old gentleman regretted the absence of his ever-dear friend Mr. Price, the most worthy man in the world, and rang a peal on his friendship, honour, honesty, integrity, &c., &c., accompanied with emaciated coughs--was obliged to go to the city coffee-house--a punctual man--never failed an appointment--it was the soul of business--and then he told Mr. R. that his dear friend desired to meet Mr. R. there exactly at one o’clock--he approved highly of Mr. Price’s recommendation, and was now happy in his mind--it wanted but a quarter to one, he believed, and he hoped Mr. R. would not fail, as his dear friend was very exact indeed. The usual compliments passed; the sister conducted Mr. R. to the door, who posted away to the city coffee-house, and left old Mr. Bond, the rich brother, who was in reality no other than Mr. Price, and the brother’s maiden sister, who was a Mrs. Pounteney, to laugh at Mr. R.’s credulity. Mr. R. had not been five minutes in the coffee-house before he was joined by his friend Price, to whom Mr. R. recapitulated what passed, and as soon as Price had despatched some pretended business, he proposed calling on Mr. Bond. This was readily acquiesced in by Mr. R. and away they drove to Leather-lane. When they came there, they were informed by the lady, that her brother was just gone out in a coach, on an airing, to Highgate. In short, Price carried on the scheme completely for several days, during which time Mr. R. had twice or thrice seen the old gentleman. The will was made, and, on the strength of the joint executorship and expectancy, Mr. R. was swindled out of very near a thousand pounds in cash, and bonds to the amount of two hundred pounds.

Another anecdote, though it does not exhibit him in his Proteus-like character, exemplifies his cunning and selfishness. He had formed a connection with Mr. W----, a brewer, a man of character. Price, who was then in the brewery, proposed a project, which was assented to, for purchasing hops to the amount of two thousand pounds, and he actually went into the country, contracted for hops to that amount with hop-growers in Kent, and then applied to Mr. W. for the two thousand pounds, alledging that there would be a sudden rise of hops, and they could not be delivered too soon; and that Mr. W. should have his share of the profit. From some undisclosed motive, Mr. W. refused to advance the money. An unexpected rise, however, did soon after take place, Price went into Kent to demand delivery, the growers were shy in delivering, especially as they found they had made a bad bargain, and he gained two hundred pounds for releasing them.

Price was servile to extreme meanness, where his servility could be recompensed by a shilling. He was master of consummate effrontery, when principle called upon him for that shilling, if it was unsupported by law. He never paid but with an eye to further plunder; and then he abounded in that species of flattery distinguished under the word _palaver_. He possessed an extensive knowledge of men and manners, and to superficial observers appeared a very sensible person. He knew something of most of the living languages; had travelled all over France and Holland, and been at most of the German courts. He was at Copenhagen during the crisis in the fate of the unhappy Matilda queen of Denmark, sister to George III.; and he wrote a pamphlet in her behalf, tending to prove that the true motive for the degrading attack on her character, was to effect a revolution in favour of the queen dowager’s son. It proved him to have an eye directed to the cabals of the court, and an understanding capable of developing its intrigues.

Price’s character about the ’Change in London was well-known--he was a keen, intriguing speculator, well versed in the mystery of the bulls and bears: his head enabled him to make the most accurate calculations, but his heart would not permit him to enjoy the fruit of even his honest labours; for he never would comply with the demands of a fortunate customer, unless terrified into it,--and to terrify him required no small portion of ingenuity and resolution. His dishonesty was the spring of all his misfortunes; it made him shift from place to place to avoid the abuse of the vulgar, and the clamorous calls of the few fortunate adventurers in the lottery. His last office was the corner of King-street, Covent-garden, from whence he was driven, by a run of ill-luck, into a private decampment.

From that period, Price lived in obscurity. Though a perfect sycophant abroad, at home he was an absolute tyrant; nor could a prudent, virtuous woman, endowed with every qualification to render the marriage state happy, soften his brutal disposition, when the ample fortune he obtained with her had been squandered. Having a family of eight children to support, he turned his thoughts to fatal devices, and commenced to forge on the bank of England. His first attack on the bank was about the year 1780, when one of his notes had been taken there, so complete in the engraving, the signature, the water-marks, and all its parts, that it passed through various hands unsuspected, and was not discovered till it came to a certain department, through which no forgery whatever can pass undiscovered. The appearance of this note occasioned a considerable alarm among the directors; and forgery upon forgery flowed in, about the lottery and Christmas times, without the least probability of discovering the first negociators. Various consultations were held, innumerable plans were laid for detection, and they were traced in every quarter to have proceeded from one man, always disguised, and always inaccessible.

Had Price permitted a partner in his proceedings--had he employed an engraver--had he procured paper to be made for him, with water-marks upon it, he must soon have been discovered--but he “was himself _alone_.” He engraved his own plates, made his own paper with the water-marks, and, as much as possible, he was his own negociator. He thereby confined a secret to himself, which he deemed not safe in the breast of another; even Mrs. Price had not the least knowledge or suspicion of his proceedings. Having practised engraving till he had made himself sufficient master of it, he then made his own ink to prove his own works. He next purchased implements, and manufactured the water-mark, and began to counterfeit hand-writings. Private attempts to discover him proved thoroughly abortive, and the bank came to the resolution of describing the offender by the following public advertisement, which was continued in all the newspapers for a considerable time to no purpose. It is a very curious document, from the minuteness with which his disguise is particularized.

_Public-office, Bow-street, Dec. 5, 1780._

A FORGERY.

Whereas a person, answering the following description, stands charged with forging two notes, purporting to be bank-notes, one for forty pounds and the other for twenty pounds, whoever will apprehend him, or give such immediate notice at this office as may be the means of apprehending him, shall receive one hundred pounds’ reward on his commitment.

Or, if any person concerned in the above forgery, (except the person here-under described,) will surrender and discover his or her accomplices, he or she will be admitted an evidence for the crown, and, on conviction of any one offender therein, receive two hundred pounds’ reward.

And if any engraver, paper-maker, mould-maker or printer, can give information of the engraving any plate, making any mould or paper, or printing any note resembling bank-notes, shall receive two hundred pounds’ reward, on conviction of any of the offenders in the above forgery.

He appears about fifty years of age, about five feet six inches high, stout made, very sallow complexion, dark eyes and eye-brows, speaks in general very deliberately, with a foreign accent; has worn a black patch over his left eye, tied with a string round his head, sometimes wears a white wig, his hat flapped before, and nearly so at the sides, a brown camblet great coat, buttons of the same, with a large cape, which he always wears so as to cover the lower part of his face; appears to have very thick legs, which hang over his shoes, as if swelled, his shoes are very broad at the toes, and little narrow old-fashioned silver buckles, black stocking breeches, walks with a short crutch stick with an ivory head, stoops, or affects to stoop very much, and walks slow as if infirm; he has lately hired many hackney-coaches in different parts of the town, and been frequently set down in or near Portland-place, in which neighbourhood it is supposed he lodges.

He is connected with a woman who answers the following description:--She is rather tall, and genteel, thin face and person, about thirty years of age, light hair, rather a yellow cast on her face, and pitted with the small pox, a down-cast look, speaks very slow, sometimes wears a coloured linen jacket and petticoat, and sometimes a white one, a small black bonnet, and a black cloak, and assumes the character of a lady’s maid.

N. B. It is said, that about fifteen months since he lodged at Mrs. Parker’s, No. 40, in Great Titchfield-street, (who is since dead,) at which time he went by the name of Wigmore.

This advertisement drove Price to extremities:--it forced him to refrain from the circulation of his forgeries, and for some months put a total stop to them. It was posted on the walls, and printed as hand-bills, and delivered from house to house throughout the whole of the quarter where he was most suspected to reside; at the very house which he daily resorted to, and where all his implements were fixed; in the neighbourhood of Marybone, Portland-place, Oxford-street, and Tottenham-court-road. One of them was thrown down an area to the only person in whom he placed any confidence, a female whom the reader will be better acquainted with. By these means Price was informed of his immediate danger, and took his measures accordingly. Eagerness to secure banished the foresight and caution which are necessary in the pursuit of artful villany. The animal whose sagacity is a proverb, can never be secured in haste; he must be entrapped by superior patience and caution.

Though Price had no partner in any branch of the forgery of a bank-note, yet he had a confidante in his wife’s aunt, by the mother’s side, whom he had known previous to his marriage. Her name was Pounteney; and, unknown to Mrs. Price, he was daily with her. He divided his dinner-times equally between the two, and Mrs. Price had for ten years’ past, through the impositions of her husband, considered her aunt either as dead, or residing abroad. His wife had too little art, or understanding in the ways of the world, to be what is commonly called cunning. In short, her character was that of perfect simplicity. Price therefore thought her not fit to be trusted. Her aunt, on the contrary, was wily, crafty and capable of executing any plan Price would chalk out for her. She was a woman after his own heart; and having made choice of this woman as an assistant, and his apparatus being ready, he began his operations. He lived then at Paddington with his wife, whom he went to nightly; and at lodgings, near Portland-place, he daily visited her aunt, where the implements for his undertakings were concealed. His next and chief object was a negociator, and he procured one in the following manner.

Previous to the drawing of the lottery for the year 1780, Price put an advertisement into the “Daily Advertiser” for a servant who had been used to live with a single gentleman, and the direction was to “C. C. Marlborough-street coffee-house, Broad-street, Carnaby-market.” An honest young man, who at that time lived with a musical instrument-maker in the Strand, read this advertisement, and sent a letter to the specified address. At the end of a week, one evening, about dusk, a coachman inquired for the person who had answered the advertisement, saying there was a gentleman over the way, in a coach, wanted to speak with him. The young man went to the coach, was desired to step in, and there saw an apparently aged foreigner, gouty, wrapped up with five or six yards of flannel about his legs, a camblet surtout buttoned up over his chin, close to his mouth, a large _patch_ over his left eye, and every part of his face concealed except his nose, right eye, and a small part of that cheek. This person was Price, who caused the young man to sit at his left side, on which eye the patch was; so that Price could take an askance look at him with his right eye, and discover only a small portion of his own face. Thus disguised, he seemed between sixty and seventy years of age, and afterwards, when the man saw him standing, he appeared nearly six feet high, owing to boots or shoes with heels little less than four inches high. To aid the deception, he was so buttoned up and straightened as to appear perfectly lank. Price’s real height was about five feet six inches; he was a compact, neat made man, rather square shouldered, and somewhat inclined to corpulency; his legs were firm and well set. His features assisted his design to look considerably older than he really was; his nose was aquiline, his eyes were small and grey, his mouth stood very much inwards, his lips were very thin, his chin was pointed and prominent, he had a pale complexion, and loss of teeth favoured his disguise of speech. His natural form was exceedingly upright; he was active and quick in his walk, and was what is usually described “a dapper made man.” To the young man, whose christian name was Samuel, Price affected great age, with a faint hectic cough, and so much bodily infirmity as almost to disable him from getting out of the coach. Price told him he was not wanted by himself, but as under servant to a young nobleman of fortune, under age, and then in Bedfordshire, to whom he was, and had been some years, guardian. He inquired into the particulars of Samuel’s life, and thinking him honest and ingenuous, and therefore unsuspicious, and suitable to his purpose, he talked to him about wages. Samuel inquired whether he was to be in livery or not: Price replied, that he could not really tell, for the young nobleman was a very whimsical character, but that was a circumstance which might be settled hereafter. To carry on the farce, he desired Samuel to call his master to the coach to give him a character, and his master came and gave him such an one as Price pretended to approve; he then hired Samuel at eighteen shillings per week, and gave him a direction to himself, as Mr. _Brank_, at No. 39, Titchfield-street, Oxford-street.

Pursuant to appointment, on the second or third evening afterwards, Samuel went to Titchfield-street, and there entered on the service of the minor nobleman, by waiting on Mr. _Brank_. Price resumed his discourse respecting his ward, the eccentricity and prodigality of his manners, and his own hard task in endeavouring to prevent him from squandering his money, especially in those deceitful allurances called lottery tickets. He said, although he was his guardian, he was still obliged to comply with some of those whims, in opposition to his own advice and remonstrance. Old Mr. _Brank_ talked of the happy prospects for Samuel by serving such a master, and Samuel talked of his wages and clothes, and whether he was to be in livery or not. It was concluded, that for the present he should procure a drab coat, turned up with red, till the nobleman’s pleasure was known, or he came to town: he was ordered to get the clothes at his own charge, and make out his bill; which he did, but was never repaid. This circumstance corresponded with Price’s usual conduct: he never was known to part with a shilling from one hand, till he had more than double its value in the other. It should be observed, that Samuel was so placed on the left side of the pretended Mr. Brank, on which side the patch was, that during the whole of the conversation he could never see the right side of Price’s face.

Before Samuel took leave of the old gentleman, he was ordered to come again in the evening of the first day of the drawing of the lottery. Price pretended, that he seldom went to the nobleman’s town house of an evening, and therefore, to avoid giving him unnecessary trouble, he was to attend in Titchfield-street. On that evening he pulled out a variety of papers, letters, &c., and told Samuel he had received orders from the thoughtless young nobleman to purchase lottery tickets, as a venture against his coming to town, and for that purpose he meant to employ Samuel. He produced some seeming bank-notes, and gave Samuel two, one of twenty pounds, the other of forty pounds. He directed him to take their numbers and dates on a piece of paper, for fear of losing them, and to go to a lottery office in the Hay-market, and with the one of twenty pounds to purchase “an eight guinea chance:” from thence he was to go to the corner of Bridge-street, Westminster, to buy another out of the forty pound note, and wait at the door of the Parliament-street coffee-house till he came to him. With these notes Samuel bought each of the chances, and was on his way to the Parliament-street coffee-house when, from the opposite side of the way, he was hailed by Mr. Brank, who complimented him on his speed, and said he had been so quick, that he, Brank, had not had time to get to the coffee-house. He was then interrogated, if he had made the purchases, and, replying in the affirmative, was again commended for his diligence: Brank also inquired, if any mistake had happened; and all this with a deal of coughing, imbecility of speech, and feigned accent.

When Samuel received the notes, he received as many canvass bags as he was ordered to buy shares, and to put each distinct share, and the balance of each note, into a separate bag, for fear, as Brank said, the chance of one office might be confused with the chance of another, and Samuel be thereby puzzled to know where he had bought the different chances; and by such confusion, or forgetfulness, it might not be recollected where to apply in case of a fortunate number.

Mr. Brank having secured the chances and balances, ordered Samuel to go to Goodluck’s at Charing-cross, from thence to King-street, Covent-garden, and York-street, Covent-garden, and purchase some other small shares and chances, and then meet him at the city coffee-house, Cheapside. To these places the young man went, and having bought his numbers and changed his notes, as he was going along York-street, his master called to him from a coach, pretended he was fortunate in thus seeing him, made Samuel step in, got the produce of the forgery, and away they drove to the city.

In their way thither, Brank applauded his servant’s despatch; gave him more notes, to the amount of four hundred pounds, with instructions to purchase shares and chances, at offices about the Exchange; and directed him, as before, to put the chances and money received at each office in a separate bag. For this purpose Samuel was set down from the coach in Cheapside, and having executed his commissions returned, agreeable to his orders, to the city coffee-house, where he waited a few minutes and then Mr. Brank came hobbling up to him, and took him into a coach, that was waiting hard by. Brank resumed complaints of his health and infirmities, and observed, that the fatigues of business had kept him longer than he expected; but he warned Samuel to be always exceedingly punctual. His reason for urging punctuality was the dread of a discovery, and to prevent consultations, by which he might be detected. On their way to Long-acre, where the coachman was ordered to drive, Brank amused his servant with flattering promises for his attention and fidelity; and at parting put a guinea into his hand, and gave him orders to be in waiting, for a few days, at his old master’s in the Strand.

It afterwards appeared, that whenever Samuel went to an office a woman, unobserved by him, always walked in at the same time, and looked about her as if accompanying some one else in the shop; and as soon as Samuel had done his business she also walked away. This woman was Mrs. Pounteney, the aunt of Price’s wife, described in the advertisement and hand-bill issued by the bank. She constantly accompanied Price in a coach whenever he went out, watched Samuel at every office, as soon as he had safely got out stepped across the way to Price, who was in the coach, informed him of the success, and then Samuel was hailed, and Price secured the property while she kept out of sight; nor did Samuel ever see her during his servitude. During his residence at Titchfield-street, which was but a week, Price always appeared and went out as Brank, accompanied by Mrs. Pounteney. In case of any accidental discovery, she was ready to receive the disguise, so that Brank might be instantly shifted to Price, and Price to Brank, and Samuel thereby be rendered incapable of identifying the man that had employed him.

On the Sunday morning after Price’s last adventure, a coachman inquired for Samuel at his old master’s, by whom the coachman was informed, that though Sam worked he did not lodge there, and that he should not see him till the next morning. The coachman held a parcel in his hand, which he said was for Samuel, and which the master desired him to leave, and he should have it the next day; the coachman replied, he was ordered not to leave it, but to take it back in case he could not see the man, and accordingly went across the way with it; there the master saw the elderly gentleman, with whom he had conversed on Samuel’s character a few days before, to whom the coachman delivered the parcel. Samuel’s master saw this old gentleman get into a coach; but in a minute the coachman returned and left the parcel, which contained notes to the amount of three hundred pounds, with a letter directing Samuel to buy, on the next morning, a sixteenth, an eight guinea chance, and a whole ticket, to repeat his purchases as before, till the whole were changed, and to meet his master, Mr. Brank, at Mill’s coffee-house, Gerrard-street, Soho, at twelve o’clock the next day. Samuel duly executed these orders, but, on inquiry at the coffee-house, he found no such person as Mr. Brank had been there; in a few minutes, however, as he was standing at the coffee-house door, a coachman summoned him to Mr. Brank, who was waiting in a coach at the corner of Macclesfield-street. He desired Samuel to come in, and made him sit on the left hand, as before described, and having received the tickets, shares, and balances, ordered him to bid the coachman drive towards Hampstead. On the way, he gave Samuel three sixteenths as a reward for his diligence, and talked much of his ward, who, he said, would be in town in a day or two, when he would speak highly of Samuel’s industry. He discoursed on these subjects till they reached Mother Black-cap’s at Kentish-town, and then Samuel received orders to bid the coachman turn round; and, on their way back, Samuel had notes for five hundred pounds given to him, with directions to lay them out in the same manner about the ’Change, and meet his master at the same place in the evening, where he said he should dine; but, for reasons easily imagined, Samuel was ordered not to make his purchases at the offices he had been to before.

Samuel, having performed this task also, went to the coffee-house, where a porter accosted him, and conducted him to his master in a coach as usual. He was now blamed for his delay, and an appearance of anger assumed, with a declaration, that he would not do if not punctual, for that the nobleman was very particular in time, even to a minute. Samuel apologized, and Brank received the cash and shares, and ordered him to go to the New Inn Westminster-bridge and hire a post-chaise to carry them to Greenwich to meet the nobleman’s steward, who was also his banker, to whom he was going for money to purchase more tickets; observing, at the same time, on the imprudence and prodigality of his ward.

At Greenwich, Samuel was desired to go to the Ship and order a dinner, while Brank was engaged, as he pretended, in negociating his business; he instructed him not to wait longer than three o’clock, but go to dinner at that time, if he, Brank, did not return. It was not till half past four that Brank came hobbling, coughing, and seemingly quite out of breath with fatigue. They then drank tea together, and afterwards returned in the chaise to Lombard-street, where it was discharged. There Sam received more notes to the amount of 350_l._, which he got rid of in the usual way; and at the city coffee-house was again fortunate enough to meet his master before he got to the door. Brank ordered him to attend the next evening at his lodgings, which he accordingly did, and afterwards at three or four other times, in the course of which attendance he negociated 500_l._ more of the forged notes.

We now arrive at the close of Samuel’s services. In negociating the last sum he had received, he went to Brooksbank’s and Ruddle’s, where he was interrogated as to whom he lived with; Samuel said he was servant to a very rich nobleman’s guardian, that he was at board-wages, and gave his address to his old master, the musical instrument-maker. Having delivered Brank the cash, &c. in the usual way, he was told, that perhaps he might not be wanted again for a week, and that he might wait till sent for. Before the expiration of that time, however, Samuel was apprehended, and taken to Bow-street, where he was examined by the magistrates and gentlemen from the bank; and telling his artless tale, which was not believed, he was committed to Tothillfields-bridewell, on suspicion of forgery.

The surprise of the poor lad on his apprehension, his horror on being confined in a prison, and his dread of being executed as a forger of counterfeit bank-notes, were only equalled by the astonishment of the directors of the bank and the magistrates, at the sagacity of the manufacturer, who had hitherto evaded every possibility of detection. Nor did they appear at all persuaded of Sam’s innocence, though his story was, in part, confirmed by his former master, the musical instrument-maker. The forged note he had passed at Brooksbank’s and Ruddle’s, where he had been interrogated, was the means of his apprehension. In a day or two it was paid into the bank, traced back to Brooksbank’s and Ruddle’s office, and, immediate application being made to Bow-street, the lad was taken into custody.

Samuel’s examinations were frequent and long, and in the end the following scheme was laid to secure the fabricator. Samuel having been ordered by Brank to stay till he was sent for, an inferior officer of Bow-street was stationed at the musical instrument-maker’s in the Strand, where Samuel worked, in case Brank should call in the mean time. After the lapse of a few days, Price sent Samuel a message to meet him the next day at Mill’s coffee-house, exactly at eleven o’clock. This was communicated to Mr. Bond, a clerk at Bow-street office, who ordered Samuel to comply, but not to go till five minutes past the time. The above inferior officer attended at a distance, disguised as a porter, with a knot on his shoulder, and Bond, dressed as a “lady,” followed at a small distance. When Samuel arrived at the coffee-house he found that a real porter had that instant been there and inquired for him, and could have been hardly got out of the door. This information Samuel directly communicated to the “lady,” (Bond of Bow-street,) and Samuel was sent back to wait; but Brank, in a hackney-coach hard by, had discovered the momentary conversation between Samuel and the disguised officers, and took immediate flight. An instant rush was made at Titchfield-street, but in vain; Blank had not been there since Samuel and he had left it together, and the police were entirely at fault. The advertisements were again issued, and hand-bills were showered around to no purpose. Poor Samuel, however, having tolerably established his innocence, was, after suffering eleven months’ imprisonment, discharged with a present of twenty pounds.

In the ensuing lottery, Price played the same artful game with notes of higher value; those of 20_l._ and 40_l._ were grown too suspicious, another lad had been taken into custody, another _rush_ made, and _Price_ was missed again by a moment.

Price’s next scheme was an advertisement for a person in the linen drapery business; and with notes of from 50_l._ to 100_l._ two young men, his agents, purchased linen drapery at different shops. They were detected by having passed an 100_l._ note to Mr. Wollerton, a linen-draper in Oxford-street, who recovered the whole of his property through Bond the officer, by whom it was seized at No. 3, on the Terrace, in Tottenham-court-road.

To follow Price through all his proceedings would be impossible: in November 1782, Mr. Spilsbury of Soho-square, the proprietor of some medicinal “drops,” received a card bearing the name of Wilmott, which had been left by a person who had called at his house in his absence. The next evening the following note was delivered at Mr. Spilsbury’s.

“Mr. Wilmott’s complits to Mr. Spilsbur. wishes to converse with him 10 minutes. having an Order for His drops, at half past five o’clock this evening.

“No. 17, _Gresse-street, Rathbone-place_.”

At the time mentioned in the note Mr. Spilsbury went to Gresse-street, where he was shown into a parlour by a foot-boy, and waited until Mr. Wilmott made his appearance. He appeared to be a very infirm old man, in a great coat and a slouched hat, with a piece of red flannel round the lower part of his face, a large bush-wig on, and his legs wrapped over with flannel; he wore green spectacles, and a green silk shade hanging from his hat, but no patch on his eye: this was Price. He and Mr. Spilsbury had frequently met at Percy-street coffee-house, Rathbone-place, and often conversed together; but on this occasion Mr. Spilsbury had no idea or recollection of his old acquaintance. As soon as Price entered the parlour, he observed on his own dress; and said he had exceedingly suffered from the drawing of a tooth by an unskilful dentist, and wore the flannel on his face in order to avoid catching cold. He then familiarly conversed with Mr. Spilsbury, extolled the merits of his “drops,” recounted great cures which he knew they had performed, styled himself a dealer in diamonds, and dismissed Mr. Spilsbury with the promise of an order in a few days. It was evidently postponed to strengthen Mr. Spilsbury’s opinion of him, but at last it arrived in the following note:--

“Mr. Wilmott’s compliments to Mr. Spilsbur, desires he will put up twelve bottles of drops at 3_s._ 6_d._ against Friday three o’clock. the boy will call and pay for them. also, Mr. Spilsbur will send a copy or form of an Advertisement--and attestation, leaving a blank for the names. the case was--the man was violently broke out in legs, body and face, and he actually had no other physic than two of the bottles. and it is really astonishing how much He is recovered.--when Mr. Wilmott comes to town to-morrow week He will send the voucher authenticated by 6 people of consequence.

“_Gresse-street_, No. 17.”

The boy did not call on the Friday mentioned; but on the Friday week he brought a letter, in which Mr. Wilmott desired Mr. Spilsbury to send two guineas’ worth of the drops, and change for a 10_l._ bank-note, and to be particular in sending guineas of good weight. The bank-note appeared to be a new one, change was got in the neighbourhood, and the drops sent; and the next note Mr. Spilsbury received was from Sir Sampson Wright, desiring his attendance at Bow-street, where, to his astonishment, he was informed of the forgery. He related the preceding

## particulars to the magistrate, and produced the two letters. The

officers paid an immediate visit to Gresse-street, but old Mr. Wilmott had previously departed.

Not long after this, Mr. Spilsbury met his acquaintance, Mr. Price, at the Percy-street coffee-house; and there, drinking his chocolate, and talking over the occurrences of the day, Mr. Spilsbury told the foregoing story to his coffee-house acquaintance, while Price every now and then called out “Lack a day! Good God! who could conceive such knavery could exist! What, and did the bank refuse payment, sir?” “O yes,” said Mr. Spilsbury, with some degree of acrimony; “though it is on the faith of the bank of England that I and a great many others have taken them, and they are so inimitably executed, that the nicest judges cannot detect them.” “Good God!” said Price, “he must have been an ingenious villain!--What a complete old scoundrel!”

It is related, that when the celebrated artist William Wynn Ryland was to be executed for forging an East-india bond, Price intreated the use of a dining-room window in Oxford-street, at the house of a gentleman whom he had defrauded in the same manner he had done Mr. Spilsbury; and Price was present when Ryland passed to Tyburn, and on that occasion pointed to Ryland, saying “There goes one of the most ingenious men in the world, but as wicked as he is ingenious--he is the identical man who has done all the mischief in the character of _Patch_: he deserves his fate, and he would confess the fact, if he was not in hopes of a respite; which he would have obtained, perhaps, had not the directors been certain that it was charity to the public to let him suffer.”

Mention has already been made of the fraud practised by Price on Mr. R. of Knightsbridge. One in a family was not enough for him, and Mr. R’s brother, who lived in Oxford-street, experienced the effect of Price’s ingenuity in crime. Price had been often there, and bought a variety of things, and was perfectly well known in his real person, and by his proper name. One day, however, a hackney-coach carried him thither disguised as an old man, and in that character he made some purchases. In a day or two he repeated his visit, and on a third day, when he knew Mr. R. was from home, he went again with his face so coloured that he seemed in a deep jaundice. The shopman, to whom he was full of complaints, told him that he had a receipt for that disorder, which had cured his father of it, and offered him the prescription. Price accepted it, and promised that if it succeeded he would liberally reward him. In a few days, he again appeared before the shopman perfectly freed from the complaint, and acknowledging his great obligations to him, said he had but a short time to live in the world, and having very few relations to leave any thing to, he begged his acceptance of a 50_l._ bank-note, at the same time, he said, he wanted cash for another. Mr. R. not being in the way, the grateful shopman stepped out, and got change for it. The next day Price having watched Mr. R’s going out, prevailed on the lad to take five other 50_l._ notes to his master’s banker, and there get them changed for smaller ones. Price’s notes soon got to the bank, and of course were stopped. They were traced to Mr. R’s. His lad was interrogated, and as Mr. R. positively refused to pay the 250_l._ to his bankers, they brought an action against him, which was tried in the court of common pleas, before Lord Loughborough, and the bankers obtained a verdict. The most extraordinary circumstances pending the suit were, that Mr. R. communicated the story to Price, who offered him all the assistance in his power, and became a principal agent in the defence. He was, of all others, the most active in procuring witnesses for Mr. R., and actually attended the trial, without the least suspicion, on the part of any individual concerned, that he was the perpetrator of the mischief.

It is an extraordinary and almost incredible fact, that during a period of six years, five of which had elapsed after the remarkable advertisement issued at the instance of the bank in December 1780, Price committed depredations of this nature on the public with impunity. The deceptions by which he circulated his forged notes through so long a period, were as varied as the nature of each new circumstance required. At last he turned another species of forgery, equally artful, and, for a time, equally successful. He went to the coffee-houses near the Royal Exchange in a new disguise, and there was accustomed to get a boy to take a sum of 10_l._ to the bank, with directions to receive from the teller the customary ticket to the cashier who pays; but the lad had his especial orders not to go to the cashier for the money, as the teller is accustomed to direct, but as soon as the boy was out of the teller’s sight he was to turn another way, and bring the ticket to Price at the coffee-house. There Price used to alter the teller’s tickets from 10_l._ to 100_l._ by adding an 0, or by placing a 1 before any other sum where the addition was easy, so as to make 50 into 150, &c., and then send the tickets by other hands to the cashiers, who paid the increased sums unsuspectedly.

This scheme was his last. One of the notes he had received at the bank, on a forged ticket, he had passed at Mr. Aldous’s, a pawn-broker in Berwick-street, where he was known by the name of Powel, and went two or three times a week to pledge things of value. An officer was placed at Mr. Aldous’s till his next call, which was the next day but one, when he was secured and carried to Bow-street. His behaviour there was exceedingly insolent. Mr. Bond, who, when Price kept a lottery-office in King-street, Covent-garden, was clerk at Bow-street, had visited him on account of some money due to Sir John Fielding’s maid servant, gained by insuring with Price, which he had refused to pay her; but when informed by Mr. Bond who her master was, he waited on Sir John, and satisfied her claim. He now taxed Mr. Bond, who had been made a magistrate, with prejudice against him on account of the insurance affair, and complained that he should not have justice done him. He also urged against Mr. Abraham Newland, esq., principal cashier of the bank, that he could expect nothing from him but every possible injury, on account of some former antipathy that gentleman had conceived towards him; and he imputed desire of revenge to every individual whose duty it was to render him amenable to justice.

When under examination, the chief magistrate, Sir Sampson Wright, suddenly called out “Sam;” the young man immediately answered, and at the same moment appeared before his old master, who started as at a ghost; but, recollecting himself, made a polite bow to his former servant, with a view either to awaken his sympathy, or to hint at what he might expect if he disclaimed him. Samuel, however, could only swear to his voice, for he had not the least idea of his person or features. Price was committed to Tothillfields-bridewell, where he turned his thoughts to the destruction of the implements. Well knowing that nothing could be extracted from Mrs. Price, or any of his family, to affect him, he had declared, when under examination, that he lived with them at a cheesemonger’s in the neighbourhood of Tottenham-court-road; and he was equally secure that nothing could be found there to afford the least suspicion of his being the forger described under the character of _Patch_. His next step was to obtain an interview with Mrs. Price and his eldest son, a youth about fifteen years of age. To his wife’s great surprise, he communicated to her the secret of his lodgings, and the circumstances respecting her aunt. He wrote a letter to Mrs. Pounteney, informing her of his situation, and desiring her instantly to destroy every atom of the apparatus, clothes, &c.; he tore up the inner sole of his son’s shoe, and putting the letter under, it passed safe.

When Mrs. Pounteney received the letter, she burnt every article of clothes in which Price had disguised himself, and sent for a carpenter, to whom he had never been visible, to take down the wood frame, presses, and other instruments with which Price had made his paper, and printed off his notes. While the maid was gone for the carpenter, her mistress put the copper-plates into the fire, and, rendering them pliable, reduced them to small pieces. These, with a large bundle of small wires, used in the manufacture of the paper and water-marks, she desired Price’s son to take to the adjacent fields, and there distribute them beneath the dust heaps; and the pieces lay there till, by a stratagem, they were discovered and brought to Bow-street. The carpenter took down the apparatus, and being paid and despatched, every thing was brought down and reduced to ashes.

Throughout Price’s examinations, his assurance was the most remarkable feature in his conduct; but the audacity by which he sought to baffle his accusers was so reckless, as to disclose a circumstance which largely added to the grounds for believing him to be the criminal who had so long eluded justice. From the extreme art he had adopted to effectually disguise his person, while committing his enormous frauds, there was no connected proof of his identity. Long before his apprehension, he had hazarded experiments to discover whether his disguises were effectual. He would go to the coffee-houses about the ’Change, where he was thoroughly well known as Mr. Price, and in his real character inquire for Mr. Norton, write a letter, and leave it at the bar. In ten minutes he would return as Mr. Norton, receive the letter, and drink his coffee. While in Tothillfields-bridewell, a boy who had more than once taken cash for him to the tellers at the bank, together with the boy’s mother, who had also seen him, were conveyed to the prison to view him. The boy could not at all identify him: the mother was more positive, but still the proof was deemed scarcely sufficient to convict him. He had pledged things of value several times, under the name of Powel, with Mr. Aldous. Mrs. Pounteney had done the same in the character of Mrs. Powel. They had talked of each other, and each of them had at different times pledged the same article; yet Price on his examination denied the least knowledge of her; impudently threatened to bring actions for false imprisonment; and ridiculing the officers for not finding a ten pound note in his fob, under his watch, when he was searched, he heedlessly produced it--this identical note was one of the notes delivered by the cashier upon a teller’s ticket which Price had forged!

Price had been brought up three times for the purpose of being viewed, and his sagacity perceived the impossibility of his escaping the hand of justice. He told the keeper he had been “_betrayed_,” but this was not the fact. Meditating to avoid a public execution, he informed his son that the people of the prison came into his room sooner than he wished; and that he had something secret to write, which they might get at by suddenly coming upon him, which he wished to prevent. On this pretence he gave his son money to purchase two gimblets and a sixpenny cord, pointing out to him how he would fasten the gimblets in the post, and tie the cord across the door, which opened inwards. The poor youth obtained the implements, and Price having fastened the gimblets under two hat screws, was discovered hanging in his room, without coat or shoes, on the 25th of January, 1786.

Under his waistcoat were found three papers. One was a petition to the king, praying protection for his wife and eight children; all of whom, he said, had never offended; and stating, that he had written a pamphlet with a view to prevent a war between the crowns of England and Denmark, and to rescue the character of queen Matilda from the aspersions of the queen dowager’s party. The second was a letter of thanks to Mr. Fenwick, the keeper of the prison, for his indulgence and favours. The third was a letter to his wife, wherein he begged her forgiveness for the injuries he had done her, and intreated her attention to their offspring. In these papers, written with his dying hand, the guilty man solemnly denied every thing laid to his charge!

Immediately upon Price’s self-destruction, his unhappy wife, who had been innocent of his iniquities, was urged to discover the woman with whom he had been connected. She was assured, that though the verdict of a coroner’s inquest must be formally complied with, yet, if she rendered this act of justice to the country, his remains might afterwards receive christian burial. Her son was present and added his intreaties that she would tell, or suffer him to tell, who and where the woman was; the feelings of the widow and the mother prevailed, and she communicated the residence of her depraved aunt, who, on being taken into custody, disclosed several of the circumstances attending the destruction and concealment of the presses and implements. What remained of them were destroyed by the police, and she was delivered out of custody to the punishment of her own thoughts. It was afterwards ascertained, on a second search, that she had not discovered all the machinery. The frame with which Price had made his paper was produced to her, and she was asked what it was: “It is an instrument,” she said, “I use for mangling.” An answer which may be taken as evidence, that notwithstanding the example of Price might have taught her the folly of wickedness, and though she herself had escaped by the sufferance of extreme mercy, her mind was still disposed to evil.

Price was buried in the cross-roads, but, in about a week, his body was privately removed by night.

These particulars of Price are more numerous, and the account of him is more diffuse, than might be expected in connection with the lottery; but as he was too remarkable to have been omitted among its incidents, so his criminal career was too flagitious and notorious to be lightly passed over when he was mentioned at all.

Price’s lottery-office, in King-street, Covent-garden, was the house now (in 1826) occupied by Mr. Setchell, the bookseller. On part of the wall where Mr. Setchell’s shutters are placed, there are remains of Price’s lottery-bills still visible.

LOTTERY SUICIDE AND HEARTBREAKING.

The “Gentleman’s Magazine” of 1787 inserts what is called “a copy of a paper left by the unhappy young gentleman who lately shot himself with two pistols in Queen-street, Westminster,” wherein he execrates “the head that planned, and the heart that executed, the baneful, destructive plan of a _Lottery_.”

The same year, in a debate in the house of commons on a bill then passing to prevent insurance, Mr. Francis said his own family furnished a striking instance of the dreadful effects of a passion for this ruinous practice. He had given, at different times, to a female servant sums of money to the amount of two hundred pounds, to discharge tradesmen’s bills; and, to his great surprise, he found afterwards that, regardless of his character, or her own, she had risked the entire sum in insuring in the lottery, and had lost it. He would have been glad had the loss of money been the only one, for he would have taken it upon himself; but the poor woman lost her life within a week after this discovery had been made, dying broken-hearted and distracted.

SHARING A PRIZE.

In the Lottery of 1788 a guinea share of a ticket drawn a 20,000_l._ prize had been duly registered by Shergold and Co. who sold it, and acquainted the holder by letter that it entitled him to 1500_l._ This lucky man, who lived in the country, attended his club the same evening, and imparted the good news he had received. His joy, however, was considerably damped by a person present, who assured him that he never would be paid--that his prize was not worth a groat, and that he himself knew one who at the beginning of the lottery had a half guinea share a prize of 20,000_l._ and was entitled to 700_l._, but was glad to compromise it for 50_l._ After reciting a variety of circumstances to the same effect, and cunningly working up alarm to the highest pitch, he at length told the owner of the prize, that he knew some of the proprietors in Shergold’s house, and he believed he might be able to get some money where another could get none; he would therefore venture to give 100_l._ for the prize. This proposal being rejected, he advanced to 200_l_. from thence to 300_l._ and at last to 600_l._, which was accepted. He accordingly paid the money to the unfortunate _fortunate_ adventurer, got possession of the prize, and immediately set off for London, and received the 1500_l._ without difficulty. Several eminent lawyers, on considering the misrepresentations used in this transaction, were of opinion, that it was what is termed a catching bargain, and advised the owner, who was cozened out of 900_l._, to apply to equity for relief.[480] He seems to have been afraid of the remedy; for, though he took counsel’s opinion, it does not appear that he followed it into chancery.

* * * * *

At the Haymarket theatre, in 1791, a comedy, called the “School for Arrogance,” was produced with a prologue spoken in the character of a news-hawker, with the Lottery as one of the topics of intelligence.

_After sounding, and calling “Great News!” without; he enters with a postman’s horn, newspapers, cap and livery._

Great news! here’s money lent on bond, rare news! By honest, tender-hearted, christian jews! Here are promotions, dividends, rewards, A list of bankrupts, and of new made lords. Here the debates at length are, for the week; And here the deaf and dumb are taught to speak. Here Hazard, Goodluck, Shergold, and a band Of gen’rous gentlemen, whose hearts expand With honour, rectitude, and public spirit, Equal in high desert, with equal merit, Divide their tickets into shares and quarters; And here’s a servant-maid found hanging in her garters! Here! here’s the fifty thousand, sold at ev’ry shop! And here’s the “Newgate Calendar”--and drop. Rare news! strange news! extraordinary news! Who would not give three halfpence to peruse?

* * * * *

Shergolds seem to have persisted in a course of attempts to evade the law, by a peculiar mode of dividing and insuring tickets; but in Michaelmas term, 1791, the question was argued in the court of King’s-bench on a special verdict, whether the sellers of their receipts were liable to be apprehended and committed as vagrants under the Lottery act, and the court determined, that they were vagrants within the true intent of the act.

INSURING.

In February, 1793, the commissioners of the Lottery, in order to abate insuring, determined that no persons should be suffered to take down numbers, except the clerks of licensed offices known to the commissioners: no slips were to be sent out; but the numbers were to be taken down by one clerk in one book; Steel’s list of lottery numbers was to be abolished, and a recompence made for it; and the magistrates resolved to apprehend all suspicious persons who should be seen taking early numbers.[481]

Yet, in 1796, we find “a class of sharpers, who take Lottery Insurances,” and that this gambling, among the higher and middling ranks, was carried on to an extent exceeding all credibility, producing consequences to many private families, of great worth and respectability, of the most distressing nature.--Mr. Colquhoun represents them as “a class, in general, of very depraved or distressed characters, who keep unlicensed insurance offices, during the drawing of the English and Irish Lotteries;” many of whom, during the intervals of such lotteries, had recently invented and set up private lotteries, or wheels, called _little goes_, containing blanks and prizes, which were drawn for the purpose of establishing a ground for insurance, and producing incalculable mischiefs, inasmuch as the rage and mania were so rooted, from habit and a spirit of gaming, that no domestic pressure, and no consideration, connected either with the frauds that were practised, or the number of chances against them, would operate as a check upon the minds of the infatuated. The criminal agents felt no want of customers. The houses and offices were not only extremely numerous all over the metropolis, but in general high rented, exhibiting the appearance of considerable expense, and barricadoed in such a manner with iron doors and other contrivances as, in many instances, to defy the arm of the law. A considerable portion of their emoluments was traced to have been derived from menial servants in general; but

## particularly the male and female domestics in the houses of men of

fashion and fortune, who were said, almost without a single exception, to be in the constant habit of insuring in the English and Irish Lotteries.

Such persons, with a spirit of gambling rendered more ardent than prevails in common life, from the example of their superiors, and from their idle and dissipated habits, entered keenly into the Lottery business; and when ill luck attended them were often led, step by step, to that point where they lost sight of moral principle, and were impelled, by desire of regaining what they had lost, to sell or pawn the property of their masters, whenever it could be pilfered so as to elude detection; and this species of peculation sometimes terminated in more atrocious crimes.

The insurance offices in the metropolis exceeded four hundred in number. To many of them persons were attached, called _Morocco Men_, who went from house to house among their customers, or attended in the back parlours of public-houses, where they were met by them to make insurances.

It was calculated, that at these offices (exclusive of what was done at the licensed offices) insurances were made to the extent of eight hundred thousand pounds, in premiums during the Irish Lottery, and above one million during the English; upon which it was calculated that they made from fifteen to twenty-five per cent. profit. This confederacy, during the English Lottery of the year 1796, supported about 2000 agents and clerks, and nearly 7500 Morocco men, including a considerable number of _ruffians and bludgeon men_, paid by a general association of the principal proprietors of the establishments, who regularly met in committee, in a well-known public-house in Oxford-market, twice or thrice a week, during the drawing of the lottery, for the purpose of concerting measures to defeat the exertions of the magistrates, by forcibly resisting or bribing the officers of justice.

* * * * *

The Lottery was declared to be inseparable from illegal insurances, by the parliamentary reports of 1807; and they further state, that “the Lottery is so radically vicious, that under no system of regulations which can be devised will it be possible for parliament to adopt it as an efficient source of revenue, and at the same time divest it of all the evils and calamities of which it has hitherto been so baneful a source.” Among these evils and calamities, the committees of parliament enumerate that “idleness, dissipation, and poverty, were increased,--the most sacred and confidential trusts were betrayed--domestic comfort was destroyed--madness was often created--suicide itself was produced--and crimes subjecting the perpetrators of them to death were committed.”

LITTLE GOES.

These were _little_ Lotteries on the same plan as the great State Lotteries, and drawn in the same manner. There were generally five or six “little goes” in the year, and they were actually set up and conducted by two or three of the licensed lottery-office keepers. The State Lottery was the parent of these “little goes.” Persons who had not patience to wait till another State Lottery gambled during the vacations in a “little go.” A “little go” was never heard of during the State Lotteries.[482]

THE GREAT GO.

Sir Nathaniel Conant, who in 1816 was chief magistrate of the police establishment at Bow-street, stated in that year to a committee of the house of commons, that the Lottery was one of the predisposing causes by which the people of the metropolis were vitiated; that it led to theft, to supply losses and disappointments, occasioned by speculating on its chances; and that illegal insurances continued to be effected:--“there are,” he says, “people in the back ground who having got 40, or 50,000_l._ by that, employ people of the lowest order, and give them a commission for what they bring; there is _a wheel within a wheel_.” Another magistrate, giving evidence before the same committee, said, “it is a scandal to the government thus to excite people to practice the vice of gaming, for the purpose of drawing a revenue from their ruin: it is an anomalous proceeding by law to declare gambling infamous, to hunt out petty gamblers in their recesses, and cast them into prison, and by law also to set up the giant gambling of the State Lottery, and encourage persons to resort to it by the most captivating devices which ingenuity, uncontrolled by moral rectitude, can invent.”[483]

CONCLUSION.

Incredible efforts were made in the summer of 1826 to keep the “last lottery” on its legs. The price of tickets was arbitrarily raised, to induce a belief that they were in great demand at the very moment when their sale was notoriously at a stand; and the lagging attention of the public of the metropolis was endeavoured to be quickened, by all sorts of stratagems, to the 18th of July, as the very last chance that would occur in England of gaining “SIX 30,000_l._ besides other Capitals,” which it was positively affirmed were “all to be drawn” on that fatal day. Besides the dispersion of innumerable bills, and the aspersions on government relative to the approaching extinction of the Lottery, the

## parties interested in its preservation caused London and its environs to

be paraded by the following

_Procession._

1. Three men in liveries, scarlet and gold.

2. Six men bearing boards at their backs and on their breasts, with inscriptions in blue and gold, “All Lotteries end Tuesday next, six 30,000_l._”

3. Band of trumpets, clarionets, horns, &c.

4. A large purple silk banner carried by six men, inscribed in large gold letters “All Lotteries end for ever on Tuesday next, six 30,000_l._”

5. A painted carriage, representing the Lottery wheel, drawn by two dappled grey horses, tandem fashion; the fore horse rode by a postillion in scarlet and gold, with a black velvet cap, and a boy seated in a dickey behind the machine, turning the handle and setting the wheel in motion.

6. Six men with other Lottery labels.

7. A square Lottery carriage, surmounted by a gilt imperial crown; the carriage covered by labels, with “All Lotteries end on Tuesday next;” drawn by two horses, tandem, and a postillion.

8. Six men with labels.

9. Twelve men in blue and gold, with boards or poles with “Lotteries end for ever on Tuesday next.”

10. A large purple silk flag, with “all Lotteries end on Tuesday next.”

This procession with its music drew the heads of the servant maids from the windows in every suburb of the metropolis, and was followed by troops of boys, till they tired on its frequency. It sometimes stopped, and a man with a bell cried “O yes!” and “God save the king!” and, between the two, proclaimed, in set words, the “death of the Lottery on Tuesday next!” The event was likewise announced as certain in all the newspapers, and by cart-loads of bills showered down areas, and thrust under knockers; when, behold, “the Lords of the Treasury were pleased to order” the final drawing to be postponed to Thursday the 18th of October; but all the good people so informed were wisely uninformed, that this “order” was obtained by the lottery-office folks, to give them a long day to get rid of their unsold tickets.

After this, the streets were cavalcaded by men, whose bodies were concealed between long boards on each side of their horses (as represented in the engraving on page 1407) to announce the _next_ “last of the Lottery on the 18th of October” aforesaid; and men on foot walked with labels on their breasts and backs, with the same never-dying intelligence, according to the further figure in the engraving of the lottery wheel (on page 1439,) which cut, it may be here observed, represents one of the government wheels, and the sledge it was drawn upon from Somerset-house to Coopers’-hall, at the commencement of the drawing of every Lottery; on which occasion there were four horses to each wheel, and about a dozen horse-guards to protect the instruments of _Miss_-Fortune.

* * * * *

But the most pageant-like machine was an octagon frame work, covered by printed Lottery placards (as exhibited in the engraving on page 1405) with a single horse, and a driver, and a guard-like seat at the back. When drawn along the streets, as it was at a most funereal pace, it overtopped the sills of the first-floor windows. Its slow motion, and the route it chiefly took, evidenced the _low_ hopes of the proprietors. St. Giles’s and the purlieus of that neighbourhood seem to have been selected as the favoured spots from whence favours were mostly to be expected. An opportunity offered to sketch it, while it was pelted with mud and stones, and torn and disfigured by the unappreciating offspring of the sons of fortune whose regards it courted. The artist’s letter describes the scene: “As I was walking up Holborn on Monday the 9th instant, I saw a strange vehicle moving slowly on, and when I came up to it, found a machine, perhaps from twenty to thirty feet high, of an octagon shape, covered all over with Lottery papers of various colours. It had a broad brass band round the bottom, and moved on a pivot; it had a very _imposing_ effect. The driver and the horse seemed as dull as though they were attending a solemn funeral, whilst the different shopkeepers came to the doors and laughed; some of the people passing and repassing read the bills that were pasted on it, as if they had never read one before, others stationed themselves to look at it as long as it was in sight. It entered Monmouth-street, that den of filth and rags, where so great a number of young urchins gathered together in a few minutes as to be astonishing. There being an empty chair behind, one of them seated himself in it, and rode backwards; another said, “let’s have a stone through it,” and a third cried “let’s sludge it.” This was no sooner proposed than they threw stones, oyster shells, and dirt, and burst several of the sheets; this attack brought the driver from his seat, and he was obliged to walk by the side of his machine up this foul street, which his show canvassed, halting now and then to threaten the boys, who still followed and threw. I made a sketch, and left the scene. It was not an every-day occurrence, and I accompany it with these remarks.”

This was the fag-end of the last struggle of the speculators on public credulity for popularity to their “last, dying Lottery.”

* * * * *

At last, on Wednesday the 18th of October, 1826, the State Lottery expired, and its decease was announced in the newspapers of the next day by the following article:--

STATE LOTTERY.

Yesterday afternoon, at about half past six o’clock, that old servant of the state, the Lottery, breathed its last, having for a long period of years, ever since the days of queen Anne, contributed largely towards the public revenue of the country. This event took place at Coopers’-hall, Basinghall-street; and such was the anxiety on the part of the public to witness the last drawing of the Lottery, that great numbers of persons were attracted to the spot, independently of those who had an interest in the proceedings. The gallery of Coopers’-hall was crowded to excess long before the period fixed for the drawing, (five o’clock,) and the utmost anxiety was felt by those who had shares in the Lottery for the arrival of the appointed hour. The annihilation of Lotteries, it will be recollected, was determined on in the session of parliament before last; and thus a source of revenue bringing into the treasury the sums of 250,000_l._ and 300,000_l._ per annum will be dried up. This determination on the part of the legislature is hailed by far the greatest portion of the public with joy, as it will put an end to a system which many believe to have fostered and encouraged the late speculations, the effects of which have been and are still severely felt. A deficiency in the public revenue to the extent of 250,000_l._ annually, will, however, be the consequence of the annihilation of Lotteries, and it must remain for those who have strenuously supported the putting a stop to Lotteries to provide for the deficiency.

Although that which ended yesterday was the last, if we are informed correctly, the lottery-office keepers have been left with a great number of tickets remaining on their hands--a pretty strong proof that the public in general have now no relish for these schemes.

The concourse of persons in Basinghall-street was very great; indeed the street was almost impassable, and everybody seemed desirous of ascertaining the fortunate numbers. In the gallery the greatest interest was excited, as the various prizes were drawn from the wheel; and as soon as a number-ticket was drawn from the number-wheel every one looked with anxiety to his share, in order to ascertain if Fortune smiled on him. Only one instance occurred where a prize was drawn and a number held by any individual present. The fortunate person was a little man, who, no sooner had learned that his number was a grand prize, then he buttoned up his coat and coolly walked off without uttering a word. As the drawing proceeded, disappointment began to succeed the hopes indulged by those who were present. On their entrance to the hall every face wore a cheerful appearance; but on the termination of the drawing a strong contrast was exhibited, and the features of each were strongly marked with dissatisfaction.

The drawing commenced shortly after five o’clock, and ended at twenty minutes past six.

The doors of the various Lottery-offices were also surrounded by persons awaiting the issue of the drawing.

LOTTERY PUFFS.

It is not possible to go into the _Literature of the Lottery_ without occupying more room than can be spared, but young readers and posterity may be amused and surprised by some figures, from among many hundreds of wood-cuts on the bills of schemes, and invitations to buy.

“T. BISH, 4 Cornhill, and 9 Charing-cross, London, and by all his agents in the country,” put forth the following.

[Illustration]

~Kitchen Maid.~

Mistress Molly, the Cook, At the Scheme only look, In wealth we may both of us roll, If we _brush_ for a Prize In the world we may rise, And our _skuttles_ have plenty of _cole._

~Cook Maid.~

If what you say is true, I am all in a _stew_, Lest we miss what we so much desire; Should we lose this good plan, For _a sup in the pan_, All the _fat_ will be soon _in the fire_!

Except the verses which were placed in the bill beneath the preceding cut, it contained nothing but an announcement of the day when the Lottery was to draw, and the number of capital prizes, subjoined by this information, “Tickets and shares are selling by T. BISH;” who seems to have imagined he could propitiate the “kitchen maid” and “cook maid” in his behalf, as a lottery-office keeper, by exhibiting a tea-kettle and fire implements to personify the one, and certain culinary utensils to personify the other.

“Delightful _cut_ to rear the tender mind”

from the _basement_ to the _capital_ story.

[Illustration]

RUN, Neighbours, run, the LOTTERY’S expiring, When FORTUNE’S merry wheel, it will never turn more; She now supplies all _Numbers_, you’re desiring, ALL PRIZES, NO BLANKS, and TWENTY THOUSANDS FOUR.

Haste, Neighbours, haste, the Chance will never come again, When, without pain, for little _Cash_--you’ll all be rich; Prizes a plenty of--and such a certain source of gain, That young and old, and all the world, it must bewitch. Then run, neighbours, run, &c.

This versified address and the engraving are from another bill. The verses may be presumed as sung by the footman, to excite his fellows of the party-coloured cloth to speculate in the never-enough-to-be-sufficiently-magnified-number of chances in favour of their gaining “Four of £20,000, and--Thirty other Capitals! No Blanks!--ALL IN ONE DAY!” Yet if the words, adapted from a popular duet, were regarded as an easy vehicle to effect that benevolent purpose, they could only be so to those who, with the contractors, forgot, or perhaps, with them, did not know, that the original tells of

“a day of jubilee _cajolery_.”

Surely this must have been a “word of fear” to all except the contractors themselves, who alone would be the gainers by what the body of adventurers hazarded in the “grand scheme” of “_cajolery_.”

* * * * *

One of the bills of a former Lottery begins as follows:--

BISH

_The Last Man._

In reminding his best friends, the public, that the State Lottery will be drawn this day, 3d May, Bish acquaints them that it is the _very last but one_ that will ever take place in this kingdom, and he is THE LAST CONTRACTOR whose name will appear _singly_ before the public, as the very last will be a coalition of all the usual contractors. Bish, being “_the last man_” who appears _singly_, has been particularly anxious to make an excellent scheme, and flatters himself the one he has the honour to submit must meet universal approbation.

* * * * *

At the back of this bill are the following verses, derived from the “_cajolery_” duet:--

TO-DAY! OR NOT AT ALL

RUN, NEIGHBOURS, RUN!

Run, neighbours, run! To-day it is the Lott’ry draws, You still may be in time if your purse be low; Rhino we all know will stop, of poverty, the flaws, Possess’d of that you’ll find no one to serve you slow: The ministers in parliament of Lotteries have toll’d the knell, And have declar’d from Coopers’-hall dame Fortune soon they will expel. The blue-coat boys no more will shout that they have drawn a capital! Nor run, as tho’ their necks they’d break, to _Lucky Bish_ the news to tell. Run, neighbours, run! &c. Run, neighbours, run! this is you know the third of May, ’Tis the day dame Fortune doth her levee hold; In the scheme, as you may see, are rang’d along in proud array, Of one and twenty thousands six, in notes or gold! A _sov’reign_ cure e’en one of these would be for a consumption, sir, If such disease your pocket has, so if you’ve any gumption, sir, You’ll lose no time, but haste away, and buy a share or ticket, sir, For who can tell but this may be the very hour to nick it, sir? Run, neighbours, run! &c. Run, neighbours, run! the times they say are not the best, And cash ’tis own’d is falling short with high and low; Bankers retire now, while Notaries have little rest, And what may happen next no one pretends to know. Dame Fortune (on whom thousands drew) is going now to shut up shop, So if you’d cash a draft on her, make haste for soon her bank will stop; This very day her wheel goes round, when thousands with her gifts she’ll cheer, For those who can her smiles obtain may gaily laugh throughout the year. Run, neighbours, run! &c.

* * * * *

“BISH,” as the _contractor_ is pleased to call himself, who, after he was “the last man,” dilated into a member of parliament, employed the greatest number of Lottery-laureates of any office keeper of his time; and he and the schemes wherein he engaged were lauded, in prose as well as verse, by his “ready writers.” One of their productions says:--

JOHN BULL’s

_Wonder_

At monsieur Nong-tong-paw’s ubiquity could not be greater than the astonishment of a French gentleman, who popped into BISH’s office the other day to inquire after the capitals.--“You vill be so good to tell me de nombre of de capital you tiré--you draw yesterday?”--“Why, sir, there were....”--“Restez un peu, stay a littel moment.--You will tell me de capital more big dan two hundred pounds.”--“Why, sir, there were four drawn above 200_l._: there was No. 7849 30,000_l._”--“Ah! ma foi! dat is good dat is de grande chose. Vel, and by whom was it sel?”--“Bish sold it, sir.” “Bish, ha, ha! von lucky dog! vel, allons!”--“There was No. 602, 1000_l._, sir.”--“Ah, indeed! vel, who was sel dat?”--“Bish, sir.”--“Eh, ma foi! Bish encore? Vel.”--“There was No. 2032, 300_l._”--“And who was sel?”--“Bish, sir.”--“Eh, mon dieu! ’tis very grand fortune. Now den de last, and who vas sel dat?”--“Why, sir, the last was No. 6275, 300_l._, also sold by Bish.”--“Eh, de diable! ’tis von chose impossible, Bish sell all de four?”--“Yes, sir, and in a former lottery he sold all the three thirty thousands.”--“Den he is von golden philosopher. I vill buy, I vill--let me see. Yes, I vill buy your shop.”--His ambition was at last, however, contented with three tickets; so that he has three chances of gaining the two thirty thousands yet in the wheel; and we have no doubt Bish will have the good luck of selling them.

* * * * *

“BISH” is the subject of versified praise, in another bill.

HOW TO BE HAPPY.

Let misers hug their worship’d hoards, And lock their chests with care; Whilst we enjoy what life affords, With spirits light as air. For our days shall haily gaily be, Prizes in store before us, We’ll spend our ev’nings merrily. And BISH we’ll toast in chorus.

Let lovers droop for sparkling eyes, And heave the tender sigh: Whilst we embrace the glittering prize, And meagre care defy. For our days shall haily gaily be, Plenty in store before us; Our cash we’ll jingle merrily, And BISH we’ll toast in chorus.

Let glory call the sons of war To dare the crimson’d field; Sweet Fortune’s charms are brighter far, Her golden arms we’ll wield. Then our days will haily gaily be, Riches in store before us; We’ll dance through life most merrily, And BISH we’ll toast in chorus.

* * * * *

“BISH” on another occasion steps in with:--

PERMIT ME TO ASK

Have you seen the scheme of the present Lottery?

Do you know that it contains MORE PRIZES than BLANKS?

Have you heard how very _cheap_ the tickets are?

Are you aware, that Lotteries are about to be discontinued, the chancellor of the exchequer having said that the Lottery bill, introduced last session of parliament, should be _the last_?

I need not direct you to BISH’S, as being the luckiest offices in the kingdom, &c.

* * * * *

“BISH” adventured in the “City Lottery,” a scheme devised for getting rid of the houses in Picket-street, Temple-bar, and Skinner-street, Snow-hill; and on that occasion he favoured the world with the following:--

FREEHOLDS AND FORTUNES.

BY PETER PUN.

Tune.--“_Drops of Brandy._”

Dame Fortune is full of her tricks, And blind, as her portraits reveal, sir; Then the best way the goddess to fix, Is by putting a spoke in her wheel, sir: Her favours the Lott’ry unfolds, Then the summons to BISH don’t scorn sir; For, as _her_ cornucopia _he_ holds, He’s the lad for exalting your horn, sir. Rum ti iddity, &c.

With poverty who would be known, And live upon orts in a garret, sir, Who could get a good _house_ of his own, And fatten on roast beef and claret, sir! In the _city_ scheme this you’ll obtain, At BISH’S, where all folks _pell-mell_ come, By a ticket a _free_-hold you’ll gain, And it cannot be more _free_ than _welcome_. Rum ti iddity, &c.

This house, when you once realize it, Upholders will look sharp as lynxes, For an order to _Egyptianize_ it, With catacomb fal lals and sphynxes; Chairs and tables, a _mummy_-like crew, With crocodile grooms of the stole, sir, Sarcophagus _coal_-skuttles too, And at BISH’S you’ll fill them with _cole_, sir. Rum ti iddity, &c.

For when you’re thus furnish’d in state, And a pretty establishment got, sir, Ten to one but it pops in your pate, You’ll want sticks to be boiling the pot, sir; Then to BISH’S away for supplies, For _mopusses_ they are so plenty, You may choose a ten thousand pound prize, And if you don’t like it a twenty. Rum ti iddity, &c.

Then BISH for my money, I say, The like of him never was known, sir; As Brulgruddery says in the play, “That man’s the philosopher’s stone, sir.” Then what shall we do for this man, Who makes all your fortunes so handy? Buy his tickets as fast as you can, And drink him in _drops of brandy_. Rum ti iddity, &c.

* * * * *

“BISH” seems to have deemed “the Philosopher’s stone,” which never existed but in silly imaginations, to be a proper device for drawing customers. It is repeated in

PADDY’S PURSUIT,

A NEW SONG.

From the county of Cork in dear Ireland I came, To England’s _swate_ Island a fortune to gain; Where I heard that the _strates_ were all paved with gold, And the hedges grew Guineas! so Paddy was told! I jump’d on dry land to my neck up in water, Which to some spalpeens gave subject for laughter; But, says I, with a grin, as I dragg’d myself out, “I’m not come to England to be food for a trout.” Fal de ral, de ral lal, O whack! Then to London I came, that _monstracious_ city, Where the lads dress so gay, and the ladies look _pratty_; But, Och! blood-and-ouns! only mark my surprise, When only great stones in the _strates_ met my eyes! No Guineas at all on the bushes there grew; Not a word that they told me, I found, sirs, was true: “Och! why wa’n’t I drown’d, and made food for the fish!” Thus I growled, ’till I lighted on one _Master Bish_. Fal de ral, &c. _Master Bish_ had found out the Philosopher’s stone, And a Thousand yellow Guineas he gave me for One! Thus Fortune to Pat was _monstraciously_ kind, Tho’ no gold on the bushes or _strates_ I could find! Then honeys attend, and pursue my advice; Och! to 9, Charing-cross, be off in a trice; Buy a Lottery Chance, for the Drawing Day’s near, And perhaps, like friend Paddy, a Fortune you’ll clear. Fal de ral, &c.

* * * * *

“BISH” we find again attempting to attract, with the following:--

THE

PHILOSOPHER’S STONE.

------------------------------ That stone, Philosophers in vain so long have sought,

Says Milton, would not prove more valuable to its possessor than an absolute knowledge of _certain_ numbers which lie hidden in the Wheel of Fortune till Fate declares to the enraptured ears of the adventurer, who has founded his hopes of success on them, their union with _certain_ large sums of money, viz. Twenty, Ten, or Five Thousand Pounds; for there are many such sums yet in the wheel, yet to be determined, yet to be gained by hazarding a mere trifle.

He, who life’s sea successfully would sail, Must often throw a sprat to catch a whale. Apply this proverb then; think, ere too late, What fortune, honour, and what wealth await The very trifling sum[484] of one pound eight.

* * * * *

“BISH,” of course, imagined, or wished, the public to be amazingly surprised at his popularity, and therefore indulged them with this song:

WHAT’S THE MATTER?

_By Quintin Query, Esq._

Tune.--“O Dear, what can the Matter be?”

“_O dear, what can the matter be?_” To tell, who can be at a loss? The people are running by dozens to BISH’S, To make out their dreams, and fulfil all their wishes, And try to come in for the loaves and the fishes, At 4, Cornhill, and 9, Charing-cross. “_O dear, what can the matter be?_” I’ll tell you, good friend, if you wish; The people are trying dame Fortune to cozen, And the old women’s tongues are eternally buzzing, About _lucky numbers_, 19 to the dozen, And all they can talk of is BISH. “_O dear, what can the matter be?_” I dare say you’re dying to know; The horns blow about, be it rainy or sunny, The walls they are cover’d with bills all so funny, To shew you the way how to finger the money, And you all know that “_makes the mare go_.” “_O dear, what can the matter be?_” The bellman he rings such a peal? To tell those whose fortunes are rusted with rickets, To call at _good luck’s_ (that is, _Bish’s_) two wickets, And a transfer obtain for 500 Whole Tickets; How conceited they’d make a man feel! “_O dear, what can the matter be?_” For joy you’ll be dancing a jig; For _good_ luck most folks are delighted to choose a day, And a lucky day surely must be a good news day, Then the day of all days is the very _next Tuesday_; Then, Misfortune’s _black Monday_ a fig!

* * * * *

“BISH,” on another occasion, treated the “gentle public,” like so many children, with another optical delusion.

FORTUNE’S GALANTY SHOW.

Tune.--“GALANTY SHOW.”

O pretty show, O raree show, O finey galanty show, O pretty galanty show!

_Chaunt._

Come, all my merry customers, of high, middling, and low degree, Look in at one of these little glasses, and you shall see what you shall see; My fine galanty show you great wonders shall view in, You shall see the high road to Fortune, and that’s better than the road to Ruin. O pretty show, O raree show, O finey galanty show, O pretty galanty show!

There you see the New Lott’ry Scheme, such as never was plann’d before! _Fewer_ Tickets, and _fewer Blanks_, and yet the _Prizes_ are _more_; And besides the usual 5’s, 10’s, and 20 Thousands (_Peep thro’ one of these wickets_,) You shall see such a Prize as was never yet known, neither more nor less than 1000 whole Tickets! O pretty show, &c. And there you shall see, (_Look a little to the right_) Mr. BISH’s Shop on _Cornhill_: (_Now a little to the left_) And there’s his other Shop at _Charing- cross_, where buy Shares if you will; You’ll get a part of the 1000 whole Tickets, I’ll be bound, And that’s very much like getting a part of more than a _Hundred Thousand Pounds_! O pretty show, &c. Then look straight forward, and there you see _Coopers’ Hall_, (_Isn’t it a fine building?_) there the Tickets they draw; And there you see the pretty little Blue-coat Boys, and nicer little fellows you never saw; There you’ll see ’em pulling the Numbers and Prizes out of the very Grand Wheels And when one has a Ticket in the Lottery, and sees such a sight, how _narvous_ one feels! O pretty show, &c. And there--(_Rub the glass a little cleaner_) there’s a sight I’d not have you miss fora pound, The little Boy draws out a _Number_ (_Let me see what Number you have got_) aye, that’s it, I’ll be bound; There don’t the Clerk (_On the left hand_) look exactly as if he was calling it, don’t you _see_ how he _cries_? And the other little Boy draws, and the other Clerk looks as if he bawl’d out a £20,000 Prize. O pretty show, &c. There you see (’tis no Dream of Castles in the Air, called _Utopia_) There you see Fortune pouring the _Guineas_ out of--what the deuce is it? a great long hard name--Oh! her _Cornucopia_! That’s a fine _Golden Horn_, that holds all the Prizes, I declare, And to get its Contents would be a pretty _Horn Fair_! O pretty show, &c.

* * * * *

“BISH” was pleased to devise the scheme of a Lottery to be drawn on St. Swithin’s day, wherein wine was added to the prizes, and therefore, and because its novelty was deemed alluring, we find one of his bills beginning with an apostrophising and prophetic couplet:--

Hail, famed ST. SWITHIN! who, with pow’r benign, Instead of rain pour showers of gold and wine!

Another in the same Lottery, beneath a wood-cut of a bunch of grapes, breaks out:--

On the 15th of JULY what a _golden_ supply Of _wine_ given _gratis_ by BISH, If you can get but a _share_, you’ll have plenty to spare, And can treat all your friends as you wish.

“BISH,” on the same occasion, throws the “leer of invitation,” with

TRY IN TIME.

Och! Judy, my jewel, come here when I call; We may now get _wine gratis_, for _nothing at all_; And _gold_ like _paratees_ pil’d up in a heap, Which is offer’d us too, honey, almost as cheap.

But there’s no time to lose if we’re meaning to try, For ’tis _all in one day_, on the _15th July_. And since the grand scheme is beyond all compare, He’s a spalpeen who won’t buy a fortunate share.

“BISH,” in another bill, oddly enough, put an old, one-legged smoker, with a _patch_ over one eye, a carbuncled nose, and his only foot flannelled up for the gout, the effects of drinking, in an arm chair, with the following lines below:--

“LAID UP IN PORT.”

Od’s blood! what a time for a seaman to skulk, Like a lazy land-lubber ashore; If I’m laid up at all, I’ll be laid up in port, And surrounded by prizes galore. Tommy Bish shall fill my glass, And the puppies, as they pass, Sha’n’t run down the old commodore, The rich old commodore, the cosey old commodore, The boozing old commodore he; While I’m friends with mighty BISH, He will crown my ev’ry wish, Tho’ I’ll never more be fit for sea.

Then also, “Bish” favoured his “friends” with the opportunity of singing,

BACCHUS AND PLUTUS, OR THE UNION.

Tune.--“Derry Down.”

A ROW was kick’d up in the regions above, For PLUTUS and BACCHUS for precedence strove; And in words such as these did their anger express, Till JOVE swore he’d kick them both out of the mess. Derry down.

First BACCHUS advanc’d, tho’ he scarcely could stand, Determin’d, he swore, to have the _whip hand_; And thus he began.--“Why, you sordid old elf, All your thoughts are employ’d in the scraping of pelf.

“Can gold, I would ask, e’er enliven the soul Like the juice of the grape, or a full flowing bowl? Can the glittering bauble such pleasure impart, Or make the blood circle so warm round the heart?

“That gold is an evil, there’s many will say, As my vot’ries oft find when the reck’ning’s to pay; Had gold ne’er existed, the true jolly fellow For ever might tipple, and always get mellow.

“I swear by old Styx!--that this truth it will _stand_:” But the wine in his noddle usurp’d the command,-- A _knock-’em-down argument_ BACCHUS soon found, For quickly he measur’d his length on the ground.

“As BACCHUS is _down_,” then says PLUTUS, “I’ll _rise_;” And this speech he address’d to the knobs of the skies:-- “That gold is a blessing, I’m sure I can prove: The soother of cares, and cementer of love!

“You know the old proverb, of _poverty_, sure, ’Tis something about--‘_when she enters the door, That love, through the window, soon toddles away_;’ But if there were gold, I’m sure that he’d stay.

“I’ll own that my bounties are sometimes misus’d: But pray why should I, sirs, for that be abus’d?” Here JOVE stopp’d him short, and with positive air, Insisted that they should their quarrel forbear.

“Your claims I admit, sir, and BACCHUS’ too; But a plan to unite you, I now have in view; You know TOMMY BISH?”--“To be sure!” exclaim all, “’Tis on him, that dame Fortune her bounty lets fall!”

“Well,--a Lottery he’s plann’d, with an union rare, Where _money_ and _wine_ each come in for a share; There are _three thirty thousands_ to gratify _you_; And the _twelve pipes of wine_, sirs, for BACCHUS will do.”

Says BACCHUS to PLUTUS--“Then give us your hand, I’ll tipple his wine, till no more I can stand; And as JOVE has inform’d us there’s _money_ enough, Why you, Mister PLUTUS, can finger the _stuff_.

“Besides, I have heard, or my memory’s fail’d, How greatly last Lott’ry his luck has prevail’d; The _three twenty thousands_, he sold (the rum fish!) Then let us be off, and buy tickets of BISH!” Derry down.

“BISH,” who in the former bill had subjoined, in plain prose, that “lotteries must end for ever,” likewise issued the following--

DUTIES ON WINES.

The minister in reducing the duty, so that wines may be sold at one shilling per bottle cheaper, has done much to increase the _spirits_ of the people; at the same time he has adopted another measure that will in a few months DESTROY THE FREE TRADE of every person in the kingdom to obtain for a small sum a great fortune in a few weeks, by having determined to abolish Lotteries, which must soon end for ever; therefore, the present is one of the last opportunities to buy, &c.

* * * * *

“BISH,” according to the old plan, “ever ready to serve his friends,” issued

THE AMBULATOR’S GUIDE TO THE LAND OF PLENTY.

BY PURCHASING A TICKET, _In the present Lottery_,

You may _reap_ a golden _harvest_ in _Cornhill_, and pick up the _bullion_ in _Silver-street_; have an interest in _Bank-buildings_; possess a _Mansion-house_ in _Golden-square_, and an estate like a _Little Britain_; pour red wine down _Gutter-lane_; never be in _Hunger_ford-market; but all your life continue a _May-fair_.

BY PURCHASING A HALF,

You need never be confined within _London-wall_, but become the proprietor of many a _Long-acre_; represent a _Borough_, or an _Aldermanbury_; and have a snug share in _Threadneedle-street_.

BY PURCHASING A QUARTER,

Your affairs need never be in _Crooked-lane_, nor your legs in _Fetter-lane_; you may avoid _Paper-buildings_; steer clear of the _King’s-bench_, and defy the _Marshalsea_; if your heart is in _Love-lane_, you may soon get into _Sweetings-alley_, obtain your lover’s consent for _Matrimony-place_, and always live in a _High-street_.

BY PURCHASING AN EIGHTH,

You may ensure plenty of _provision_ for _Swallow-street_; finger the _Cole_ in _Coleman-street_; and may never be troubled with _Chancery-lane_; you may cast _anchor_ in _Cable-street_; set up business in a _Fore-street_, or a _Noble-street_; and need never be confined within a _Narrow-wall_.

BY PURCHASING A SIXTEENTH,

You may live _frugal_ in _Cheapside_; get _merry_ in _Liquorpond-street_; soak your _hide_ in _Leather-lane_; be a wet _sole_ in _Shoe-lane_; turn _maltster_ in _Beer-lane_, or _hammer_ away in _Smithfield_.

In short, life must indeed be a _Long-lane_, if it’s without a _turning_. Therefore if you are wise, without _Mincing_ the matter, be _Fleet_ and go _Pall-mall_ to _Cornhill_ or _Charing-cross_, and enroll your name in the _Temple_ of Fortune, BISH’s.

LOTTERY FOR WOMEN IN INDIA.

_Advertisement._

“BE IT KNOWN, that SIX FAIR PRETTY YOUNG LADIES, with two sweet and engaging young children, lately IMPORTED FROM EUROPE, having roses of health blooming on their cheeks, and joy sparkling in their eyes, possessing amiable manners, and highly accomplished, whom the most indifferent cannot behold without expressions of rapture, are to be RAFFLED FOR next door to the British gallery. SCHEME: _twelve tickets_, at twelve rupees each; the highest of the three throws, doubtless, takes the most fascinating, &c.”[485]

* * * * *

The four engravings on this page, with the lines beneath them, are from other Lottery bills.

[Illustration]

“Throw _Physic_ to the Dogs,” for me The best _composing draught’s_ a Fee; For _sinking Chest_, _low pulse_, or cold, There’s no _Specific_ equals Gold.

[Illustration]

“My Dancing Days are over!”

[Illustration]

Though the lotteries soon will be over, I’m told, That now is the time to get pailsful of gold; And if there is any real truth in a dream, I myself shall come in for a share of the cream. We hail, ere the Sun, the first breath of the morn, And ’tis said “early birds get the best of the corn,” Of the _Four Twenty Thousands_ perhaps fortune may Have in store one for me, as they’re drawn in _One Day_!

[Illustration]

For the gay fruits of nature what wish can you feel, When compar’d with the _fruits_ of the lottery wheel; My basket of fruit I’d exchange with great glee, If one _golden pippin_ they’d only give me.

“BISH, contractor for another Lottery,” during the proceedings in parliament respecting the queen, availed himself of a celebrated answer by one of the witnesses at the bar of the house of lords, and issued the following:--

NON MI RICORDO!

OR,

_A few Questions on a new Subject_.

_QUESTION._

Good Signor, if your memory serves, A question I would ask or two; Then pray may I the favour beg, That you will answer, if I do?

_ANSWER._

_Non mi ricordo_, I can’t say, Whether my mem’ry serves or no; But let me hear them first, I pray; What I remember you shall know.

_QUESTION._

Since Lotteries in this realm began, And many good ones there have been, Do you suppose the oldest man, So good a Scheme at this has seen?

_ANSWER._

_Non mi ricordo_, surely no; Comparisons are idle tales, For such a Lottery Scheme as this, I must confess my memory fails.

_QUESTION._

Now what peculiar features, pray, Distinguish this from all the rest? And why do all the people say, “Unquestionably this is best?”

_ANSWER._

_Non mi ricordo_, ’tis in vain For me its merits now to say; To tell them all ’twould take, ’tis plain, From now until the Drawing Day.

_QUESTION._

Its merits I will gladly own, But folks will questions ask, and pray If your opinion is requir’d, Just tell me, sir, what you would say?

_ANSWER._

_Non mi ricordo_: read the Scheme, One word will answer all your wish ’Tis BISH’s plan, ’tis BISH’s theme, It must be good, ’tis plann’d by BISH.

* * * * *

“BISH,” in the annexed, _puffs_ at Queen Anne’s prize of “5000 pounds,” as “so small.” This may be imagined to have been asserted under poetical licence; for, in fact, 5000_l._ in those days was almost equal to the largest prize in modern Lotteries.

THE

_Bonne Bouche_ of Lotteries.

Tune.--“MODERATION AND ALTERATION.”

In the reign of Queen Anne, when first Lott’ries were invented, With very few Prizes Advent’rers were contented; The largest of which, (so small were Fortune’s bounds,) “_Paid in faire Plate_,” was but 5000 Pounds. Moderation! Moderation! O, what a wonderful Moderation!

Soon 5000_l._ was deem’d but a small Bait, And 10,000 then was the Great Prize of State: _Twenty_ follow’d soon after, then _Thirty_--bold push! And at last 40,000 was made the _Bonne Bouche_! Alteration! Alteration! &c.

Now the Lott’ry Contractors a New Plan pursue, All former outdoings resolv’d to outdo; And have struck out a Plan to increase Public Gain, By which, _One Hundred Thousand_ Pounds you may obtain. Temptation! Temptation! &c.

If two Numbers are drawn in a specifi’d way, 1000 _Whole Tickets_ the Holders repay; And a 1000 Whole Tickets a Chance may reveal, Of all the Great Prizes contain’d in the Wheel. Admiration! Admiration! &c. O, what a subject for Admiration!

Now if you could get them, and ’twouldn’t be strange, For the rest of your life, how your fortune would change! A Coach, a Town-House, and a Country-House, too! Leading Man in the County!--O, wou’dn’t that do? Fascination! Fascination! &c.

Then of Loans, and such fat things, such slices you’d gain! Then a Member of Parliament’s Seat you’d obtain! Next _Knighthood_--then _Baronet_--and in a short space, A Peerage--“_My Lord!_” and at last, “_Please your Grace!_” Exaltation! Exaltation! &c.

Such things are quite flattering, and surely such are, But a Pleasure far greater remains to declare; Consider, what _Power_ Wealth and Honour procure, To relieve the Oppress’d, and to succour the Poor. Exultation! Exultation! &c.

Then with Patriot Ardour your Country to serve, For Riches are Curses, from[486] these if you swerve; And all this may be gain’d, if your Fortune you try, And of BISH, Fortune’s Favorite, a Ticket you buy. Expectation! Expectation! &c.

* * * * *

“BISH,” whose bills may be taken as a specimen of such kind of Lottery advertisements by whomever issued, will be observed to have constantly addressed them to the lowest minds and the meanest capacities. One more may further exemplify the remark:--

THE AGE OF WONDERS.

Tune.--“_Bang up._”

This is a _Wonder working_ age, by all it is agreed on, And _Wonders_ rise up ev’ry day, for public gaze to feed on; To sketch a few ’tis my intent, while now I’m in the mind, sir, And crown them all with _one_ you’ll own, will leave them far behind, sir. Then push along; for _something new_, the public taste will dash on: For _Wonders_ now are all the _rage_, and _novelty’s_ the fashion. The _juggling Indians_ show such feats, a lady’s taste ’twould shock it, They _swallow swords_, and _swallow_ too the _money from our pocket_, A gentle fair, by fear unmov’d, with courage she so fraught is, On _red-hot iron_ skips a _dance_, and _bathes in aqua-fortis_. Then push along; for _something new_, the public taste will dash on, For _Wonders_ now are all the _rage_, and _novelty’s_ the fashion. The greatest _Wonder_ yet to tell, which all the world surprizes, Is BISH’s _famous Lottery_, and BISH’s _wondrous_ prizes, Three _fifty thousands_ grace the scheme, which yet remain undrawn, sir, A _wonder_ which was never known since any man was born, sir. Then push along, to BISH’s go! of fortune he’s the man, sir, A vote of thanks, _nem. con._ we’ll pass for such a noble plan, sir.[487]

* * * * *

“BISH” when, what he called, “The Last Lottery of All!” had arrived, very cavalierly turned round on the government; and, on the eve of becoming a candidate for a seat in the house of commons, paid his compliments to his future colleagues in the following address:--

TO THE PUBLIC.

At the present moment, when so many articles, necessary to the comforts of the poorer classes, are more or less liable to taxation, it may surely be a question, whether the abolition of Lotteries, by which the state was a gainer of nearly half a million per annum, be, or be not, a wise measure!

’Tis true, that, as they were formerly conducted, the system was fraught with some evil. Insurances were allowed upon the fate of numbers through protracted drawings, and as the insurances could be effected for very small sums, those who could ill afford loss, imbibed a spirit for gambling, which the legislature very wisely most effectually prevented, by adopting, in the year 1809, the present improved mode of _deciding the whole Lottery in one day_.

As it is at present conducted, the Lottery is a voluntary tax, contributed to only by those who can afford it, and collected without trouble or expense; one, by which many branches of the revenue are considerably aided, and by means of which hundreds of persons find employment. The wisdom of those who at this time resign the income produced by it, and add to the number of the unemployed, may, as I have observed in a former address, surely be questioned.

Mr. Pitt, whose ability, in matters of financial arrangement, few will question, and whose morality was proverbial, would not, I am bold to say, have yielded to an outcry against a tax, the continuing of which would have enabled him to let the labourer drink his humble beverage at a reduced price, or the industrious artisan to pursue his occupation by a cheaper light. But we live in other times--in the age of improvement!--To stake patrimonial estates at hazard or écarte in the purlieus of St. James’s is _merely amusement_, but to purchase a ticket in the Lottery, by means of which a man may _gain_ an estate at a trifling risk, is--immoral! nay, within a few hours of the time I write, were not many of our nobility and senators, some of whom, I dare say, voted against Lotteries, assembled betting thousand upon a _horse race_?

In saying so much, it may be thought that I am somewhat presumptuous, or that I take a partial view of the case. It is, however, my honest opinion, abstracted from personal considerations, that the measure of abolishing Lotteries is an unwise one, and as such I give it to that public, of whom I have been for many years the highly favoured servant, and for whose patronage, though Lotteries cease, my gratitude will ever continue.

As one of the last contractors, I have assisted in arranging a scheme, &c.! &c.!! &c.!!!

* * * * *

After this, perhaps, the reader may exclaim “I am satisfied!” and therefore, as we have the assurance of Mr. Bish that there will “never be another Lottery” to be lamented, the time has arrived for subjoining the following

~Epitaph.~

In Memory of THE STATE LOTTERY, the last of a long line whose origin in England commenced in the year 1569,[488] which, after a series of tedious complaints, _Expired_ on the 18th day of October, 1826. During a period of 257 years, the family flourished under the powerful protection of the British Parliament; the minister of the day continuing to give them his support for the improvement of the revenue. As they increased, it was found that their continuance corrupted the morals, and encouraged a spirit of Speculation and Gambling among the lower classes of the people; thousands of whom fell victims to their insinuating and tempting allurements. Many philanthropic individuals in the Senate, at various times for a series of years, pointed out their baneful influence without effect, His Majesty’s Ministers still affording them their countenance and protection. The British Parliament being at length convinced of their mischievous tendency, HIS MAJESTY GEORGE IV., on the 9th July, 1823,[489] pronounced sentence of condemnation on the whole race; from which time they were almost NEGLECTED BY THE BRITISH PUBLIC. Very great efforts were made by the

## Partisans and friends of the family to

excite the public feeling in favour of the last of the race, in vain: It continued to linger out the few remaining moments of its existence without attention or sympathy, and finally terminated its career unregretted by any virtuous mind.

W. P.

~Interesting Addenda.~

A few remarkable facts, which were omitted in the proper order of narration, are now inserted.

ANCIENT LOTTERY.

About 1612 king James I., “in special favour for the plantation of English colonies in Virginia, granted a Lottery to be held at the west end of St. Paul’s; whereof one Thomas Sharplys, a taylor of London, had the chief prize, which was four thousand crowns in fair plate.”[490]

A DOUBLE MISTAKE.

Old Baron d’Aguilar, the Islington miser, was requested by a relation to purchase a particular ticket, No. 14,068, in the Lottery to be drawn in the year 1802, (but which was sold some few days before). The baron died on the 16th of March following, and the number was the first-drawn ticket on the 24th, and, as such, entitled to twenty thousand pounds. The baron’s representatives, under these circumstances, therefore published an advertisement, offering a reward of 1000_l._ to any person who might have found the said ticket, and would deliver it up. Payment was stopped. A wholesale linen-draper, in Cornhill, who had ordered his broker to buy him ten tickets, which he deposited in his chest, on copying the numbers, for the purpose of examining them, made a mistake of one figure, and called it 14,168 instead of 14,068, which was the 20,000_l._ prize. The lottery being finished, he sent ten tickets to be examined and marked. To his utter astonishment, he then found the error of the number copied on his paper. On his demanding payment at the lottery office, a caveat was entered by old d’Aguilar’s executors; but an explanation taking place, the 20,000_l._ was immediately paid him.

CHRISTOPHER BARTHOLOMEW.

This person, who inherited a good fortune from his parents, was prosperous in his business, and had every prospect of success and eminence in life, fell a victim to an unconquerable itch for gambling in the Lottery. At one time, the White-conduit-house, with its tea-gardens and other premises, as also the Angel-inn, now the best tavern in Islington, were his freeholds: and he rented land to the amount of 2000_l._ a year, in the neighbourhood of that place, and Holloway. He was remarkable for having the greatest quantity of haystacks of any grower in the neighbourhood of London. He kept his carriage and servants in livery, and was believed to have been worth 50,000_l._ He was not only the proprietor, but the landlord of White-conduit-house, to which, by his taste in laying out its grounds, and the manner of conducting his business, he attracted great custom. On one occasion, having been unusually successful in the Lottery, he gave a public breakfast at his tea-gardens, “to commemorate the smiles of Fortune,” as he so expressed himself upon the tickets of admission at this _fête champêtre_.

At times he was very fortunate in the Lottery, and this tended to increase the mania which hurried him to his ruin. He was known to have spent upwards of 2000 guineas in a day for insurance, to raise which, stack after stack of his immense crops of hay were cut down and hurried to market, as the readiest way to obtain the supplies for these extraordinary outgoings; and at last he was obliged to part with his freehold, from accumulated difficulties and embarrassments, and he passed the remaining thirteen years of his life in great poverty, subsisting by the charity of those who knew him in “better days,” and by the paltry emolument he derived from serving as a juryman in the sheriff’s court for the county. His propensity to the Lottery, even under these degrading difficulties, never forsook him. Meeting one day, in the year 1807, with an old acquaintance, he told him he had a strong presentiment, that if he could purchase a particular number in the ensuing Lottery it would prove successful. His friend, after remonstrating with him on the impropriety of persevering in a practice that had been already attended with such evil consequences, was at last persuaded to advance the money to purchase a sixteenth, and go halves with him in the adventure. It was drawn a prize of 20,000_l._, and from the proceeds from this extraordinary turn of fortune, he was prevailed upon to purchase an annuity of 60_l._ _per annum_. Totally addicted, however, to the pernicious habit of insurance, he disposed of his annuity, and lost every shilling of the money; yet such was the meanness of his mind and circumstances, that he frequently applied to persons who had been served by him in his prosperity, for an old coat, or some other article of cast apparel; and not many days before he died, he begged a few shillings to purchase necessaries.

Bartholomew in intellect and manners was superior to the generality of men, and at one time possessed the esteem of all who knew him. His fate may be a warning to all ranks, particularly to those who are in trade, not to engage in hazardous pursuits. He died in a two pair of stairs room, in Angel-court, Windmill-street, in the Haymarket, in March, 1809, aged 68.[491]

* * * * *

A correspondent refers to Rees’s Cyclopædia as containing a good account of Lotteries, with table of chances relative to their schemes; and he adds, that Dr. Kelly, the well-known calculator, assured him he had ascertained that the chances of obtaining certain prizes were even more against the adventurer than would appear by those tables.

* * * * *

When the tickets were publicly drawn in Guildhall, and the drawing was protracted for several weeks, it was a curious sight for an indifferent spectator to go and behold the visages of the anxious crowd; to mark the hopes and the fears that seemed to agitate them, as their numbers or numbers near to theirs were announced. It is a fact, that poor medical practitioners used constantly to attend in the hall, to be ready to let blood, in cases where the sudden proclaiming of the fate of tickets in the hearing of the holders of them, was found to have an overpowering effect upon their spirits. The late Mr. Dalmahoy, of Ludgate-hill, was accustomed to affirm, that he owed his first establishment in a business which afterwards proved so prosperous, to the gratitude of a person, to whose assistance, when a young man, he had stept in, upon one of those critical emergencies.[492]

ORIGIN OF LOTTERIES.

The historian of “Inventions” says, that if, as some had done, he were to “reckon among the first traces of Lotteries every division of property made by lot, it might be said that Joshua partitioned the promised land into Lottery prizes before it was conquered.” In his opinion, the peculiarity of Lotteries consists in their numbers being distributed gratuitously, or, as in public Lotteries, for a certain price; it being left to chance to determine what numbers were to obtain the prizes, the value of which had been previously settled. He speaks of the “conditions and changes invented by ingenuity to entice people to purchase shares, and to conceal and increase the gain of the undertakers;” and, of the “delusion they occasion to credulous and ignorant people, by exciting hopes that have little probability in their favour.” He deems that the hint of modern Lottery was derived from the Romans. The rich persons at Rome, and particularly the emperors, endeavoured to attach the people by distributing among them presents consisting of eatables and other expensive articles, which were named _congiaria_. Tokens, or tickets, called _tesseræ_ (in Greek συμζολα,) were generally given out, and the possessors, on presenting them at the store or magazine of the donor, received those things which they announced. In many cases, these tickets were distributed to every person who applied for them, and then these donations resembled our distribution of bread, but not our Lotteries, in which chance must determine the number of those who were to participate in the number of things distributed. In the course of time, the Roman populace was called together, and the articles distributed thrown to them from a stage. Such things were called _missilia_, and belonged to those who had the good fortune to catch them; but as oil, wine, corn, and such like articles, could not be distributed in this manner, and as other articles were injured by the too great eagerness of the people, tokens or tickets were thrown in their stead. These were square pieces of wood or metal, and sometimes balls of wood, inscribed with the names of the articles. Those who had obtained these _tesseræ_ were allowed to transfer or sell them.[493]

* * * * *

Under “Lottery,” an antiquary refers to the _pittacia_ of Petronius. The Romans issued gratis, to their visitors in the Saturnalia, tickets which were all prizes, and marked with inscriptions called _apophoreta_. The Lotteries of Augustus were mere bagatelles for sport; Nero’s were very costly; those of Heliogabalus ridiculous; as, a ticket for six slaves, another for six flies, &c. these were handed round in vases.[494]

* * * * *

Imitations, on a reduced scale, of the Roman _congiaria_ have amused the continental princes and princesses of modern times. They distribute small presents to their courtiers, by causing trinkets or toys to be marked with numbers; the numbers being written on separate tickets, which are rolled up and put into a small basket or basin.[495]

* * * * *

In Italy, during the middle ages, the merchants or shop-keepers, in order to sell their wares more speedily and advantageously, converted their shops into offices of luck, where each person, for a small sum, was allowed to draw a number from the jar of fortune, which entitled the holder to the article written upon it; but as these shop-keepers gained excessive profits, and cheated the credulous people, by setting on their wares an extravagant price, which was concealed by the blanks, these practices were prohibited, or permitted only under strict inspection, and on paying a certain sum to the poor, or the sovereign.

From hence was derived the modern Lottery of the continent, when articles of merchandise were no longer employed as prizes, but certain sums of money instead, the amount of which was determined by the amount of money received, after the expenses and gain of the conductors were deducted. In these Lotteries, the tickets were publicly drawn by the charity boys, blindfolded. As they could not be conducted without defrauding the adventurers, it was at first believed, through old-fashioned conscientiousness, that it was unlawful to take advantage of the folly and credulity of the people, except for pious or charitable purposes. The gains were sometimes applied to the portioning of poor young women, the redemption of captives, or the formation of funds for the indigent, and other benificent objects. It was vainly imagined, that these public games of hazard would banish others still more dangerous; nor was it foreseen, that the exposure of tickets for sale, and their division into shares, would maintain and diffuse a spirit of gambling. This, however, was the result, and the profit from Lotteries became so great, that princes and ministers were induced to employ them as operations of finance: the people were forbidden to purchase tickets in foreign Lotteries, and, in order that the tickets of the state might be disposed of sooner, and with more certainty, many rulers were so shameless as to pay part of the salaries of their servants in tickets, and to compel guild companies and societies to expend in Lotteries what money they had saved. In 1764, this abuse was mentioned by the states of Wirtemburg among the public grievances, and in 1770 the duke promised that it should be abolished.

* * * * *

So early as 1521, the council of Osnaburg, in Germany, established a Lottery with wearing articles of merchandise for the prizes. In 1615, the magistrates of Hamburgh sanctioned a Lottery for building a house of correction in that city. An engraving is mentioned with the following title, “Representation of the _Loto Publico_, which was drawn in the large hall of the council-house at Nuremburg, anno 1715.” This is supposed to have been the first Lottery in that city. The first Lottery at Berlin was drawn in July, 1740; it contained 20,000 tickets at five dollars each; there were 4028 prizes; and the capital one was a house worth 24,000 dollars.

* * * * *

In 1549, a Lottery was drawn at Amsterdam for the building a church steeple; and another at Delft in 1595. In the hospital for old men, at Amsterdam, there is a beautiful painting by Daniel Vinckenbooms, which represents the drawing of a Lottery in the night time. He was born about 1578, and died in 1629.

* * * * *

In France, whither the Lottery was introduced from Italy, it was set on foot by merchants, and the only prizes were articles of merchandise: but, in 1539, Francis I. endeavoured to turn them to his own advantage. He permitted them under the inspection of certain members of the government, with a view, as was pretended, of banishing deceptive and pernicious games of chance; but on condition that he should receive for every ticket a _teston de dix sols six deniers_. It appears, however, from a royal order of recommendation, in February, 1541, that this Lottery was not then completed, and it is not known whether it ever was.

* * * * *

In 1572 and 1588, Louis de Gonzague duc de Nivernois established a Lottery at Paris, for the purpose of giving marriage portions to poor virtuous young women on his estates. The prize tickets were inscribed _Dieu vous a élue_, or, _Dieu vous console_; the former insured to the young woman who drew it 500 francs on her wedding-day; the latter, inscribed on the blanks, suggested the hope of better fortune the year following. No Lottery was ever drawn with so much ceremony and parade. Pope Sextus V. promised those who promoted it the remission of their sins: and, before the drawing, which began every year on Palm Sunday, mass was said.

* * * * *

Ladies of quality were induced by this example to establish similar Lotteries for the building or repairing of churches or convents, and other religious or benevolent purposes. Three ladies set on foot a Lottery with tickets at 40 sous each, for redeeming persons who had fallen into slavery among the Turks. Some other ladies instituted a Lottery in behalf of their confessor, who had been made a bishop, that they might buy him a carriage and horses, with other requisites, to support his episcopal dignity.

French history records the institution of many Lotteries as the means employed to make valuable presents to ladies, and other persons of distinction. It is supposed the largest of the kind was one designed by cardinal Mazarine, to increase his splendour and popularity among the courtiers. The tickets were distributed as presents.[496]

* * * * *

Louis XIV., on the days which were not fast days, went to dine at Marly with madame de Maintenon and other ladies. After dinner, the minister who wished to converse with him arrived, and when his business was finished, if they did not walk, he conversed, listened to music, played at cards, or helped to draw _Lotteries_, the tickets of which cost nothing, but were all prizes. They were composed of trinkets, jewels, and silks; but there were never any snuff-boxes, because he could not endure snuff, or suffer those who used it to approach him.[497]

* * * * *

In the seventeenth century these games of chance grew into Lotteries, in the proper sense of the word. During a scarcity of money which prevailed in 1644, Lawrence Tonti came from Naples to Paris, and proposed that kind of life-rents, or annuities, which are named after him _Tontines_; though they were used in Italy long before his time. After tedious disputes, his proposal was rejected; for which, in 1556, he substituted, with the royal approbation, a large Lottery in order to raise funds for building a stone bridge and an aqueduct. This Lottery was never completed, and consequently never drawn; and a wooden bridge was constructed, instead of that which had been burnt. The first Lottery on the plan of Tonti was set on foot at Paris in 1660, when the conclusion of peace, and the marriage of Louis XIV., were celebrated. It was drawn publicly, under the inspection of the police. The price of each ticket was a Louis d’or, which at that time was only eleven livres; and the highest prize was a hundred thousand livres. This was gained by the king himself, but he would not receive it, and left it to the next Lottery, in which he had no ticket. In 1661, all private Lotteries were prohibited under severe penalties, and from that time there were no other Lotteries than the _Loteries royales_.[498]

* * * * *

The ill-famed Italian or Genoese Lottery in Germany was, as its name shows, an invention of the Genoese, and arose from the mode in which the members of the senate were elected; for when that republic existed in a state of freedom, the names of the eligible candidates were thrown into a vessel called _seminario_, or, in modern times, into a wheel of fortune; and during the drawings of them it was customary for people to lay bets in regard to those who might be successful. That is to say, one chose the name of two or three _nobili_, for these only could be elected, and ventured upon them, according to pleasure, a piece of money; while, on the other hand, the opposite party, or the undertaker of the bank, who had the means of forming a pretty accurate conjecture in regard to names that would be drawn, doubled the stakes several times. Afterwards the state itself undertook the bank for these bets, which was attended with so much advantage; and the drawing of the names was performed with great ceremony. The _venerabile_ was exposed, and high mass was celebrated, at which all the candidates were obliged to be present.

* * * * *

A member of the senate, named Benedetto Gentile, is said to have first introduced this Lottery, in the year 1620; and it is added, that the name of Gentile having never been drawn, the people took it into their heads that he, and his names, had been carried away by the devil. But at length, the wheel being taken to pieces in order to be mended, the name, which by some accident had never been drawn was found concealed in it.

This mode of Lottery is presumed to have been peculiar to the Genoese, who, for their own benefit established in many continental towns commissioners, to dispose of tickets, and to pay the prizes to those who had been fortunate.

* * * * *

These pernicious Lotteries continued till the end of the eighteenth century, when they were almost every where abolished and forbidden. To the honour of the Hanoverian government, no _Lotto_ was ever introduced into it, though many foreigners offered large sums for permission to cheat the people in this manner. Those who wish to see the prohibitions issued against the _Lotto_, after making a great part of the people lazy, indigent, and thievish, may find them in Schlozer’s Staats-Anzeigen,

Si son exécrable mémoire Parvient à la postérité, C’est que le crime, aussi bien que la gloire, Conduit à l’immortalité.[499]

THE LAST LOTTERY IN ENGLAND.

Elia says, in the “New Monthly Magazine,”--“The true mental epicure always purchased his ticket early, and postponed inquiry into its fate to the last possible moment, during the whole of which intervening period he had an imaginary twenty thousand locked up in his desk--and was not this well worth all the money? Who would scruple to give twenty pounds interest for even the ideal enjoyment of as many thousands during two or three months? ‘_Crede quod habes, et habes_,’ and the usufruct of such a capital is surely not dear at such a price. Some years ago, a gentleman in passing along Cheapside saw the figures 1069, of which number he was the sole proprietor, flaming on the window of a Lottery office as a capital prize. Somewhat flurried by this discovery, not less welcome than unexpected, he resolved to walk round St. Paul’s, that he might consider in what way to communicate the happy tidings to his wife and family; out upon repassing the shop, he observed that the number was altered to 10,069; and, upon inquiry, had the mortification to learn that his ticket was blank, and had only been stuck up in the window by a mistake of the clerk. This effectually calmed his agitation; but he always speaks of himself as having once possessed twenty thousand pounds, and maintains that his ten minutes’ walk round St. Paul’s was worth ten times the purchase-money of the ticket. A prize thus obtained has moreover this special advantage;--it is beyond the reach of fate, it cannot be squandered, bankruptcy cannot lay siege to it, friends cannot pull it down, nor enemies blow it up; it bears a charmed life, and none of woman-born can break its integrity, even by the dissipation of a single fraction. Show me the property in these perilous times that is equally compact and impregnable. We can no longer become enriched for a quarter of an hour; we can no longer succeed in such splendid failures; all our chances of making such a miss have vanished with the Last of the Lotteries.

“Life will now become a flat, prosaic routine of matter-of-fact; and sleep itself, erst so prolific of numerical configurations and mysterious stimulants to Lottery adventure, will be disfurnished of its figures and figments. People will cease to harp upon the one lucky number suggested in a dream, and which forms the exception, while they are scrupulously silent upon the ten thousand falsified dreams which constitute the rule. Morpheus will stifle Cocker with a handful of poppies, and our pillows will be no longer haunted by the book of numbers.

“And who, too, shall maintain the art and mystery of puffing in all its pristine glory when the Lottery professors shall have abandoned its cultivation? They were the first, as they will assuredly be the last, who fully developed the resources of that ingenious art; who cajoled and decoyed the most suspicious and wary reader into a perusal of their advertisements, by devices of endless variety and cunning; who baited their lurking schemes with midnight murders, ghost stories, crim-cons, bon-mots, balloons, dreadful catastrophes, and every diversity of joy and sorrow to catch newspaper-gudgeons. Ought not such talents to be encouraged? Verily, the abolitionists have much to answer for!”

* * * * *

Here, at last, ends the notices respecting the Lottery, of which much has been said, because of all depraving institutions it had the largest share in debasing society while it existed: and because, after all, perhaps, the monster is “only scotched, not killed.”

[429] See vol. i. col. 1486.

[430] Morning Herald, Sept. 3, 1817.

[431] Maitland’s London.

[432] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1778.

[433] Stow, in his Annals.

[434] Ibid.

[435] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1798.

[436] Anderson’s History of Commerce.

[437] Malcolm’s Manners.

[438] “Whereas some give out that they could never receive their books after they were drawn in the first lottery, the author declares, and it will be attested, that of seven hundred prizes that were drawn, there were not six remaining Prizes that suffered with his in the fire; for the drawing being on the 10th of May, 1665, the office did then continue open for the delivery of the same (though the contagion much raged) until the latter end of July following; and opened again, to attend the delivery, in April, 1666, whither persons repaired daily for their prizes, and continued open until the fire.”

[439] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[440] Malcolm’s Manners.

[441] Anderson.

[442] Malcolm.

[443] Ibid.

[444] Anderson.

[445] Spectator, No. 191.

[446] Sunday, October 22, 1826.

[447] The Times, November 3, 1826.

[448] Mr. Smeeton in the _Examiner_.

[449] Malcolm.

[450] Smollett.

[451] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[452] Lounger’s Common Place Book.

[453] Smollett.

[454] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[455] Anderson.

[456] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1731.

[457] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[458] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1739.

[459] The Champion, January 10, 1740.

[460] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[461] Ibid.

[462] Maitland. Gentleman’s Magazine.

[463] Universal Magazine.

[464] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[465] Ibid.

[466] Smollett. Gentleman’s Magazine.

[467] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[468] In the Universal Magazine for December.

[469] Universal Magazine.

[470] Memoir of Holland in Universal Magazine.

[471] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[472] Ibid.

[473] Universal Magazine.

[474] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[475] Ibid.

[476] Ibid.

[477] Ibid.

[478] Anderson.

[479] Universal Magazine.

[480] Town and Country Magazine.

[481] Universal Magazine.

[482] Report of Committee of House of Commons on Lotteries, 1808.

[483] Report of Police Committee of House of Commons 1816.

[484] The price of a Sixteenth in the present Lottery.

[485] Communicated by J. J. A. F. from a Calcutta newspaper of Sept. 3, 1818.

[486] Charity and Patriotism.

[487] This and other of the bills quoted are lent by our correspondent, J. J. A. F. from his Lottery Collections.

[488] See _ante_.

[489] The day the royal assent was given to the last Lottery act.

[490] Baker’s Chronicle.

[491] Mr. Nelson’s History of Islington.

[492] A few interesting Anecdotes, &c. 18mo. 1810.

[493] Beckmann.

[494] Fosbroke, Ency. of Antiquities.

[495] Beckmann.

[496] Ibid.

[497] Private Life of Louis XIV.

[498] Beckmann.

[499] Ibid.

~November 16.~

EXTRAORDINARY LUNAR HALO.

On the night of this day in 1823, about half past nine o’clock, Dr. T. Forster observed a very remarkable and brilliant phenomenon about the moon. It was a coloured discoid halo, consisting of six several concentric circles; the nearest to the moon, or the first disk around her, being dull white, then followed circles of orange, violet, crimson, green, and vermillion; the latter, or outermost, subtending in its diameter an angle of above ten degrees. This phenomenon was evidently produced by a refraction in the white mist of a stratus, which prevailed through the night, but it varied in its colours, as well as in its brilliancy, at different times.[500]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·00.

WHIMS AND ODDITIES.

The company of odd-looking personages playing at nine-pins in the hollow of the wild mountain, were not greater objects of wonder to Rip Van Winkle, than forty original designs by Mr. Hood will be to the reader who looks for the first time at this gentleman’s “Whims and Oddities.”[501]

All the world knows, or ought to know, that among persons called literary there are a few peculiarly _littery_; who master an article through confusion of head and materials, and, having achieved the setting of their thoughts and places “to rights,” celebrate the important victory by the triumph of a short repose. At such a minute, after my last toilsome adventure in the “Lottery,” sitting in my little room before the fire, and looking into it with the comfortable knowledge that the large table behind me was “free from all incumbrances,” I yearned for a recreative dip into something new, when Mr. Hood’s volume, in a parcel bearing the superscription of a kind hand, was put into mine. It came in the very nick; and, as I amused myself, I resolved to be thenceforth, and therefrom, as agreeable as possible to my readers.

* * * * *

On the title-page of Mr. Hood’s book is this motto, “O Cicero! Cicero! if to pun be a crime, ’tis a crime I have learned of thee: O Bias! Bias! if to pun be a crime, by thy example I was biassed!--_Scriblerus._”

The first engraving that opened on me was of

[Illustration: A DREAM.]

In this figure, “a medley of human faces, wherein certain features belong in common to different visages,--the eyebrow of one, for instance, forming the mouth of another,”--Mr. Hood has successfully “tried to typify a common characteristic of dreams; namely, the entanglement of divers ideas, to the waking mind distinct or incongruous, but, by the confusion of sleep, inseparably ravelled up, and knotted into Gordian intricacies. For, as the equivocal feature, in the emblem, belongs indifferently to either countenance, but is appropriated by the head that happens to be presently the object of contemplation; so, in a dream, two separate notions will mutually involve some convertible incident, that becomes, by turns, a symptom of both in general, or of either in particular. Thus are begotten the most extravagant associations of thoughts and images,--unnatural connections, like those marriages of forbidden relationships, where mothers become cousins to their own sons or daughters, and quite as bewildering as such genealogical embarrassments.”

As an illustration of this kind of dream, the author relates a dismal one, “which originated in the failure of his first and last attempt as a dramatic writer;” and another, wherein the preliminaries were pleasant, and the conclusion was whimsical. “It occurred,” says Mr. Hood, “when I was on the eve of marriage; a season, when, if lovers sleep sparingly, they dream profusely. A very brief slumber sufficed to carry me in the night-coach to Bognor. It had been concerted, between Honoria and myself, that we should pass the honeymoon at some such place upon the coast. The purpose of my solitary journey was to procure an appropriate dwelling, and which, we had agreed, should be a little pleasant house, with an indispensable look out upon the sea. I chose one, accordingly; a pretty villa, with bow-windows, and a prospect delightfully marine. The ocean murmur sounded incessantly from the beach. A decent, elderly body, in decayed sables, undertook, on her part, to promote the comforts of the occupants by every suitable attention, and, as she assured me, at a very reasonable rate. So far, the nocturnal faculty had served me truly. A day-dream could not have proceeded more orderly; but, alas, just here, when the dwelling was selected, the sea view secured, the rent agreed upon, when every thing was plausible, consistent, and rational, the incoherent fancy crept in and confounded all,--by marrying me to the old woman of the house!”

Because it never happened that Mr. Hood in his dreams fancied himself deprived of any sense, he was greatly puzzled by this question,--

“_How does a_ BLIND _man dream?_”

“I mean” says Mr. H. “a person with the opaque crystal from his birth. He is defective in that very faculty which, of all others, is most

## active in those night-passages, thence emphatically called Visions. He

has had no acquaintance with external images; and has, therefore, none of those transparent pictures that, like the slides of a magic-lantern, pass before the mind’s eye, and are projected by the inward spiritual light upon the utter blank. His imagination must be like an imperfect kaleidoscope, totally unfurnished with those parti-coloured fragments, whereof the complete instrument makes such interminable combinations. It is difficult to conceive such a man’s dream.

“Is it, a still benighted wandering,--a pitch-dark night progress, made known to him by the consciousness of the remaining senses? Is he still pulled through the universal blank, by an invisible power, as it were, at the nether end of the string?--regaled, sometimes, with celestial voluntaries, and unknown mysterious fragrances, answering to our more romantic flights; at other times, with homely voices, and more familiar odours; here, of rank smelling cheeses, there, of pungent pickles or aromatic drugs, hinting his progress through a metropolitan street. Does he over again enjoy the grateful roundness of those substantial droppings from the invisible passenger,--palpable deposits of an abstract benevolence,--or, in his nightmares, suffer anew those painful concussions and corporeal buffetings, from that (to him) obscure evil principle, the Parish Beadle?

“This question I am happily enabled to resolve, through the information of the oldest of those blind Tobits that stand in fresco against Bunhill-wall; the same who made that notable comparison, of scarlet, to the sound of a trumpet. As I understood him, harmony, with the gravel-blind, is prismatic as well as chromatic. To use his own illustration, a wall-eyed man has a _palette_ in his ear as well as in his mouth. Some stone-blinds, indeed, dull dogs without any _ear_ for colour, profess to distinguish the different hues and shades by the touch; but _that_, he said, was a slovenly, uncertain method, and in the chief article, of paintings, not allowed to be exercised.

“On my expressing some natural surprise at the aptitude of his celebrated comparison,--a miraculous close likening, to my mind, of the known to the unknown,--he told me, the instance was nothing, for the least discriminative among them could distinguish the scarlet colour of the mail guards’ liveries, by the sound of their horns: but there were others, so acute their faculty! that they could tell the very features and complexion of their relatives and familiars, by the mere tone of their voices. I was much gratified with this explanation; for I confess, hitherto, I was always extremely puzzled by that narrative in the ‘Tatler,’ of a young gentleman’s behaviour after the operation of couching, and especially at the wonderful promptness with which he distinguished his father from his mother,--his mistress from her maid. But it appears, that the blind are not so blind as they have been esteemed in the vulgar notion. What they cannot get one way they obtain in another: they, in fact, realize what the author of Hudibras has ridiculed as a fiction, for they set up

---------communities of senses, To chop and change intelligences, As Rosicrucian Virtuosis Can _see with ears_--and hear with noses.”

Never having tried opium, and therefore without experience of “such magnificent visions” as are described by its eloquent historian, “I have never,” says Mr. Hood, “been buried for ages under pyramids; and yet, methinks, have suffered agonies as intense as _his_ could be, from the common-place inflictions. For example, a night spent in the counting of interminable numbers,--an inquisitorial penance,--everlasting tedium,--the mind’s treadmill.”

* * * * *

That “the _innocent_--sleep,” is an exceptionable position. What happy man, with a happy wife by his side, and the first, sweet, restless plague and pledge of their happiness by hers, has not been awakened to a sense of his felicity, by a weak, yet shrill and spirit-stirring “la-a, la-a, la-a, la-a, la-a-a, la-a-a--a,” of some secret sorrow, “for ever telling, yet untold.”

Happy the man whose only care A _few_ paternal _achings_ are.

Gentle reader of the Benedictine order! I presume not to anticipate the pleasure thou wilt derive from contemplating thyself engaged in a domestic exercise, suited to the occasion,--pacing thy bed-room at “the heavy middle of the night,” holding the _little_ “innocent”

Fondly lock’d in _duty’s_ arms;

its dear eyes provokingly open to the light of the chamber-lantern; thine own closed by drowsiness, yet kept unsealed by affection; thy lips arranged for the piano of carminative sounds--“quivering to the young-eyed cherubim”--

Oh! slumber my darling Thy sire is a knight--

--thy “darling” ceasing its “sweet voice,” to offer more decisively by its looks, “I would out-night you.” Brother Benedict! there is an engraving of thee, and thine, in the book I speak of, mottoed, “Son of the sleepless!”

Let me extract another _cut_, seemingly a portrait of the _alarming_ “hope of the family,” after thou hast for some few years tried, perchance, “the _Locke_ system; which, after all,” according to Mr. Hood, “is but a _canal_ system for raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels”--

[Illustration: “My son, sir.”]

* * * * *

At about the age of “My son, sir,” boys seek to satisfy their curiosity, and gratify their taste. It is the _spelling_-time of young experience, and they are extremely diligent. Their senses are fresh and undepraved, and covetous of the simplest pleasures.

Every town in England, and every village, with inhabitants and wealth sufficient to consume a hogshead of “brown moist” within a reasonable time, exhibits an empty sugar cask in the open street; it is every little grocer’s pride, and every poor boy’s delight:--

[Illustration: “O! there’s nothing half so sweet in life!”]

“Gentle reader, read the motto! read the motto!” Look at the engraving; “_show_ it to your children, and to your children’s children,” and ask them what they _think_. If you desire an immediate living example to illustrate professor Malthus’s principle, that “population always comes up to the mean of subsistence,” set out a sugar cask, and there will be a swarm of boys about it, from no one knows whither, in ten minutes. The first takes possession of the inside, and is “monarch of all he surveys.” Like the throne, it is an envied, and an unquiet possession. From the emulous, on all sides, he receives vain addresses and remonstrances, and against their threatening hands is obliged to keep a sharp look out; but his greatest enemy, and for whom he keeps a sharp look _over_, is the grocer’s man. A glimpse of that arch-foe “frightens him from his impropriety” in a twinkling; unless, indeed, from the nearness of the adversary he fail to escape, when, for certain, his companions leave him “alone in his glory,” and then he knows for a truth, that “after sweet comes sour.” The boy there, straddling like the “Great Harry,” has had his wicked will of the barrel to satiety, and therefore vacates his place in favour of him of the hat, on whose nether end “time hath written strange defeatures.” It is not so certain, that the fine, fat, little fellow, with his hands on the edge of the tub, and the ends of his toes on the ground, will ascend the side, as that he who stoops in front is enjoying the choicest pickings of the prize. The others are mere common feeders, or gluttons, who go for quantity; _he_ is the epicure of the party--

He seeks but little here below But seeks that little _good_;

and, of foretaste, he takes his place at the bung-hole, where the sugar crystallizes, and there revels in particles of the finest candies. “I pity the poor child,” says Mr. Hood, “that is learned in alpha beta, but ignorant of top and taw”--and I pity every poor child who only knows that a sugar tub is sweet, and is ignorant of the sweetest of its sweets. There are as many different pickings in it as there are _cuts_ in a shoulder of mutton, or Mr. Hood’s book. My authority for this information is an acute, pale-faced, sickly, printer’s boy, an adapt in lickerish things, who declared the fact the morning after he had been to see Mr. Mathews, by affirming, with enthusiasm, “I’ve tried it, I’ve analyzed it, and I know it.”

“Ah! little think the gay, licentious proud,”

who spend their money on bulls-eyes and hard-bake, which are modern inventions, of the delicacies within a grocer’s plain, upright and downright, good, old, natural, brown sugar tub--

“O! there’s nothing half so sweet in life.”

Mr. Hood introduces another “sweet pleasure,” with another equally apt quotation:--

[Illustration: “Tell me, my heart, can this be Love?”]

This figure of “THE POPULAR CUPID,” Mr. Hood copied, “by permission, from a lady’s Valentine;” and he says, “in the romantic mythology it is the image of the divinity of Love.” He inquires, “Is this he, that, in the mind’s eye of the poetess, drifts adown the Ganges--

Pillow’d in a lotus flow’r, Gather’d in a summer hour, Floats _he_ o’er the mountain wave, Which would be a tall ship’s grave?

--Does Belinda believe that such a substantial Sagittarius lies ambushed in her perilous blue eye?--I can believe in his dwelling alone in the heart--seeing that he must occupy it to repletion: in his constancy--because he looks sedentary, and not apt to roam: that he is given to melt--from his great pinguitude: that he burneth with a flame--for so all fat burneth: and hath languishings--like other bodies of his tonnage: that he sighs--from his size. I dispute not his kneeling at ladies’ feet--since it is the posture of elephants--nor his promise, that the homage shall remain eternal. I doubt not of his dying--being of a corpulent habit, and a short neck: of his blindness--with that inflated pig’s cheek. But, for his lodging in Belinda’s blue eye, my whole faith is heretic--for she hath never a _sty_ in it.”

Mr. Hood, doubtless, desires that the world should know his “Whims and Oddities” through his own work; its notice here, therefore, while it affords a winter evening’s half hour entertainment, is not to mar his hopes. But it is impossible to close its merry-making leaves without shadowing forth a little more of the volume.

It ought to be observed, that the prints just presented are from engravings in Mr. Hood’s book, of which there are forty drawn by his own pencil; and, that he attaches a motto to each, so antithetical, as to constitute the volume a pocket portfolio of designs to excite risibility. For example:--

He tells a story of his “Aunt Shakerly,” a lady of enormous bulk, who placed Mr. Hood’s baby cousin in the nursing-chair while she took in the news, and then, in her eagerness to read the accidents and offences, unthinkingly sat, with the gravity of a coroner’s inquest, in the aforesaid chair, and thereby unconsciously suppressed “an article of intelligence”--an occurrence which there is little reason to doubt appeared among the “horribles,” in the favourite department of her paper, the next morning. The engraving that pictures this is mottoed, “THE SPOILED CHILD!”

Mr. Hood institutes “A Complaint against Greatness,” through “an unhappy candidate for the show at Sadler’s repository,” described in the following item of the catalogue--“The reverend Mr. Farmer, a four years’ old Durham ox, fed by himself, upon oil-cake and mangel-wurzel.” The complainant, however, says, “I resemble that worthy agricultural vicar only in my fat living.”

This being the season when these condemned animals come up from the country to the metropolis, it seems a fit time to hear the complainant’s description of his journey. “Wearisome and painful was my pilgrim-like progress to this place, by short and tremulous steppings--like the digit’s march upon a dial. My owner, jealous of my fat, procured a crippled drover, with a withered limb, for my conductor; but even _he_ hurried me beyond my breath. The drawling hearse left me labouring behind; the ponderous fly-waggon passed me like a bird upon the road, so tediously slow is my pace. It just sufficeth, oh, ye thrice happy oysters! that have no locomotive faculty at all, to distinguish that I am not at rest. Wherever the grass grew by the way-side, how it tempted my natural longings--the cool brook flowed at my very foot, but this short, thick neck forbade me to eat or drink; nothing but my redundant dewlap is likely ever to graze on the ground!--If stalls and troughs were not extant, I must perish. Nature has given to the elephant a long, flexible tube, or trunk, so that he can feed his mouth, as it were, by his nose: but is man able to furnish me with such an implement? Or would he not still withhold it, lest I should prefer the green herb, my natural, delicious diet, and reject his rank, unsavoury condiments?--What beast, with free will, but would repair to the sweet meadow for its pasture”--

Verily, it is humane thus to lecture man from the mouth of an animal, whose species is annually deformed for butcherly pride, and the loathing of the table--“to see the prize-steak loaded with that rank, yellow abomination, might wean a man from carnivorous habits for ever.” The supplicant for our compassion adds, in behalf of himself and his dumb-fellow creatures, “It may seem presumption in a brute to question the human wisdom; but truly, I can perceive no beneficial ends worthy to be set off against our sufferings. There must be, methinks, a nearer (and a better) way of augmenting the perquisites of the kitchen-wench and the fire-man.” There is an admirable cut of the over-fed petitioner, breathing “O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt!” The figure of the crippled drover is excellent.

Mr. Hood devises a romantic adventure that befel a herd of these animals of the common class, and a little wooden, white-painted house on four wheels, to which a sedentary citizen and his wife had retired to spend their days, “impaled” by the wayside on Hounslow-heath, where--

Having had some quarters of school breeding, They turn’d themselves, like other folks, to reading; But setting out where others nigh have done, And being ripen’d in the seventh stage, The childhood of old age, Began as other children have begun,-- Not with the pastorals of Mr. Pope, Or Bard of Hope, Or Paley, ethical, or learned Porson,-- But spelt, on sabbaths, in St. Mark, or John, And then relax’d themselves with Whittington, Or Valentine and Orson-- But chiefly fairy tales they loved to con, And being easily melted, in their dotage, Slobber’d,--and kept Reading,--and wept Over the White Cat, in their wooden cottage.

Thus reading on--the longer They read, of course, their childish faith grew stronger In gnomes, and hags, and elves, and giant grim,-- If talking trees and birds reveal’d to him, She saw the flight of fairyland’s fly-waggons, And magic-fishes swim In puddle ponds, and took old crows for dragons,-- Both were quite drunk from the enchanted flaggons; When as it fell upon a summer’s day. As the old man sat a feeding On the old babe-reading, Beside his open street-and-parlour door, A hideous roar Proclaim’d a drove of beasts was coming by the way.

Long-horned, and short, of many a different breed, Tall, tawny brutes, from famous Lincoln-levels, Or Durham feed; With some of those unquiet, black, dwarf devils, From nether side of Tweed, Or Firth of Forth; Looking half wild with joy to leave the North,-- With dusty hides, all mobbing on together,-- When,--whether from a fly’s malicious comment Upon his tender flank, from which he shrank; Or whether Only in some enthusiastic moment,-- However, one brown monster, in a frisk, Giving his tail a perpendicular whisk, Kick’d out a passage thro’ the beastly rabble; And after a pas seul,--or, if you will, a Horn-pipe, before the basket-maker’s villa, Leapt o’er the tiny pale,-- Back’d his beef-steaks against the wooden gable, And thrust his brawny bell-rope of a tail Right o’er the page, Wherein the sage Just then was spelling some romantic fable.

The old man, half a scholar, half a dunce, Could not peruse, who could?--two tales at once; And being huff’d At what he knew was none of Riquet’s tuft; Bang’d-to the door, But most unluckily enclosed a morsel Of the intruding tail, and all the tassel:-- The monster gave a roar, And bolting off with speed, increased by pain, The little house became a coach once more, And, like Macheath, “took to the road” again!

When this happened the old man’s wife was absent,

Getting up some household herbs for supper, Thoughtful of Cinderella, in the tale, And quaintly wondering _how_ magic shifts Could o’er a common pumpkin so prevail, To turn it to a coach;

nor did she turn round, till house and spouse had turned a corner out of sight.

The change was quite amazing; It made her senses stagger for a minute, The riddle’s explication seem’d to harden; But soon her superannuated _nous_ Explained the horrid mystery;--and raising Her hand to heaven, with the cabbage in it, On which she meant to sup,-- “Well! this _is_ fairy work! I’ll bet a farden, Little prince Silverwings has ketch’d me up, And set me down in some one else’s garden!”

Here ends the “fairy tale” of Hounslow-heath.

* * * * *

“She is far from the land!” is a motto to an engraving of a _land_ lady, frightened by voyaging in a Thames wherry, opposite St. Paul’s. Her after alarms at sea are concluded pleasantly:--

“We were off Flamborough-head. A heavy swell, the consequence of some recent storm to the eastward, was rolling right before the wind upon the land:--and, once under the shadow of the bluff promontory, we should lose all the advantage of a saving westerly breeze. Even the seamen looked anxious: but the passengers, (save one,) were in despair. They were, already, bones of contention, in their own misgivings, to the myriads of cormorants and waterfowl inhabiting that stupendous cliff. Miss Oliver alone was sanguine. She was all nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles; her cheeriness increased in proportion with our dreariness. Even the dismal pitching of the vessel could not disturb her unseasonable levity;--it was like a lightening before death--but, at length, the mystery was explained. She had springs of comfort that we knew not of. Not brandy, for that we shared in common; nor supplications, for those we had all applied to; but her ears, being jealously vigilant of whatever passed between the mariners, she had overheard from the captain,--and it had all the sound, to her, of a comfortable promise,--that ‘if the wind held, we should certainly _go on shore_.’”

* * * * *

The popular ballad of “Sally Brown and Ben the Carpenter,” which first appeared in the “London Magazine,” is inserted in this volume. “I have never been vainer of any verses,” says Mr. Hood, “than of my part in the following ballad. The lamented Emery, drest as Tom Tug, sang it at his last mortal benefit at Covent-garden; and, ever since, it has been a great favourite with the watermen of the Thames, who time their oars to it, as the wherrymen of Venice time theirs to the lines of Tasso. With the watermen, it went naturally to Vauxhall: and, over land, to Sadler’s-wells. The guards, not the mail coach but the life guards, picked it out from a fluttering hundred of others, all going to one air, against the dead wall at Knightsbridge. Cheap printers of Shoe-lane and Cow-cross, (all pirates!) disputed about the copyright, and published their own editions; and, in the mean time, the authors, to have made bread of their song, (it was poor old Homer’s hard ancient case!) must have sung it about the streets. Such is the lot of literature! the profits of ‘Sally Brown’ were divided by the ballad-mongers: it has cost, but has never brought me, a halfpenny.”

* * * * *

A “Recipe for Civilisation,” in Hudibrastic lines, is waggishly ascribed to the “pen of Dr. Kitchiner--as if, in the ingredients of versification, he had been assisted by his _Butler_.” It is accompanied by a whimsical whole length of “the Cook’s Oracle,” adjusting musical notes on the bars of a gridiron, a ludicrous allusion to the good-humoured Doctor’s diversified attainments in science and popularity.

* * * * *

From an odd poem, attributed to an odd personage, “The Last Man,” two verses are selected, as an example of feelings which the punning on the title-page seemed to have proscribed:--

I’ve buried my babies one by one, And dug the deep hole for Joan, And cover’d the faces of kith and kin, And felt the old church-yard stone Go cold to my heart, full many a time, But I never felt so lone.

For the lion and Adam were company, And the tiger him beguiled; But the simple kine are foes to my life, And the household brutes are wild. If the veriest cur would lick my hand I could love it like a child!

* * * * *

Mr. Hood’s pen essays “WALTON REDIVIVUS: _A New River Eclogue_.”

“[Piscator is fishing--near the sir Hugh Middleton’s Head, without either basket or can. Viator cometh up to him, with an angling-rod and a bottle.]”

It is prefaced by a citation “_From a Letter of C. Lamb_,” in these words:--“My old New River has presented no extraordinary novelties lately. But there Hope sits, day after day, speculating on traditionary gudgeons. I think she hath taken the fisheries. I now know the reasons why our forefathers were denominated East and West Angles. Yet is there no lack of spawn, for I wash my hands in fishets that come through the pump, every morning, thick as motelings--little things that perish untimely, and never taste the brook.”

To face this “Eclogue” there is a motto, “My banks they are furnished,” beneath a whole length figure, _so_ like “poor Jemmy Whittle!”--only not looking so good natured.

* * * * *

“Love me, love my dog,” is a fearful _cut_--Mr. Hood’s step-mother, and her precious “Bijou”--with a story, and a tail-piece--“O list unto my tale of woe,”--unnaturally natural.

* * * * *

One of the best pieces in the volume is “The Irish Schoolmaster,” who, from a clay cabin, “the College of Kilreen,” hangs out a board, “with painted letters red as blood,” announcing “CHILDREN TAKEN IN TO BATE.”

Six babes he sways,--some little and some big, Divided into classes six;--alsoe, He keeps a parlour boarder of a pig, That in the college fareth to and fro, And picketh up the urchins’ crumbs below And eke the learned rudiments they scan, And thus his A, B, C doth wisely know,-- Hereafter to be shown in caravan, And raise the wonderment of many a learned man.

Alsoe, he schools some tame familiar fowls, Whereof, above his head, some two or three Sit darkly squatting, like Minerva’s owls, But on the branches of no living tree, And overlook the learned family; While, sometimes, Partlet, from her gloomy perch, Drops feather on the nose of Dominie, Meanwhile, with serious eye, he makes research In leaves of that sour tree of knowledge--now a birch.

* * * * *

Now, by the creeping shadows of the moon, The hour is come to lay aside their lore; The cheerful pedagogue perceives it soon, And cries, “Begone!” unto the imps,--and four Snatch their two hats and struggle for the door, Like ardent spirits vented from a cask, All blythe and boisterous,--but leave two more, With Reading made Uneasy for a task, To weep, whilst all their mates in merry sunshine bask,

Like sportive elfins on the verdant sod, With tender moss so sleekly overgrown, That doth not hurt, but kiss, the sole unshod, So soothely kind is Erin to her own! And one, at hare and hound, plays all alone,-- For Phelim’s gone to tend his step-dame’s cow; Ah! Phelim’s step-dame is a canker’d crone! Whilst other twain play at an Irish row, And, with shillelah small, break one another’s brow!

But careful Dominie, with ceaseless thrift, Now changeth ferula for rural hoe; But, first of all, with tender hand doth shift His college gown, because of solar glow, And hangs it on a bush to scare the crow: Meanwhile, he plants in earth the dappled bean, Or trains the young potatoes all a-row, Or plucks the fragrant leek for pottage green, With that crisp curly herb, call’d Kale in Aberdeen.

And so he wisely spends the fruitful hours, Linked each to each by labours, like a bee; Or rules in learning’s hall, or trims her bow’rs;-- Would there were many more such wights as he, To sway each capital academie Of Cam and Isis; for, alack! at each There dwells, I wot, some dronish Dominie, That does no garden work, nor yet doth teach, But wears a floury head, and talks in flow’ry speech!

* * * * *

For the entire of the subjects already extracted from, and for many others not adverted to, even by name, reference should be had to the work itself. There is one design, however, so excellent a specimen of Mr. Hood’s clear conception and decisive execution, that merely in further illustration of his talent it is here introduced.

[Illustration: “Very deaf, indeed.”]

An engraving of Mr. Hood’s admirable “Parish Beadle,” from his “Progress of Cant,” was inserted in an account of that print on p. 130 of the present volume of the _Every-Day Book_. Great as was the merit of that print, in point of wit and humour, and curious as it will always be regarded for its multiform developement of character, and relationship to the manners of the age, yet it is largely exceeded, in these respects, by the volume of “Whims and Oddities.” Possessing the rare talent, of illustrating what he writes by his own drawings, Mr. Hood is to be esteemed in a twofold capacity. He has, withall, the remarkable merit of having acquired his knowledge of art by his own teaching; and, what augurs well, the praise which the “Progress of Cant” deserved and obtained, has wholesomely invigorated him to higher mastery. There is a firmness of execution in the designs to the “Whims and Oddities,” surprisingly superior to the general manner of his meritorious etching just mentioned. The book is altogether the most original that the press of late years has produced; and, luckily, it comes like a seasonable visiter, to raise shouts of laughter “round about the coal-fire” in cold weather.

[500] The varieties and causes of these phenomena are described in Dr. Forster’s “Researches about Atmospheric Phenomena,” 3d edition, p. 98.

[501] “Whims and Oddities, in Prose and Verse; with forty original designs by Thomas Hood, one of the authors of ‘Odes and Addresses to Great People,’ and the designer of the Progress of Cant, London, Relfe, 1826.” 12mo. 10_s._ 6_d._

~November 17.~

HUGH,

_Bishop of Lincoln_.

His name is in the church of England calendar and almanacs on this day, which was ordained his festival by the Romish church, wherein he is honoured as a saint.

* * * * *

St. Hugh was born in Burgundy in 1140, educated in a convent, took the habit of the Chartreuse near Grenoble before he was of age, was ordained priest, and, at the end of ten years, the procuratorship of the monastery was intrusted to him. Henry II. of England, confiding in his prudence and sanctity, induced him to come over and regulate the new monastery of Carthusians, founded by the king at Witham in Somersetshire, which was the first of that order established in England. He was consecrated bishop of Lincoln, 21st September, 1186, exerted his episcopal authority to restore ecclesiastical discipline, especially amongst his clergy, and maintained the claims of the church against the crown itself. In quality of ambassador from king John, he went to France and negotiated a peace; on his return he was seized with a fever, presumed to have been occasioned by his abstemiousness, and died at London, on blessed ashes strewed on the floor, as he directed, in the form of a cross, on the 17th of November, 1200. His body was embalmed, and conveyed with great pomp to Lincoln, where it was met by king John of England and king William of Scotland, with three archbishops, fourteen bishops, above a hundred abbots, and a great number of earls and barons. The two kings put their shoulders under the bier as it was carried into the church.

Alban Butler, from whom these particulars are derived, affirms that three paralytic persons, and some others, recovered their health at St. Hugh’s tomb. He further relates, that, during the saint’s life time, Henry II., being on his way from Normandy to England, in a furious storm, prayed for mercy, through the merits and intercession of St. Hugh, whereon a calm ensued, and the voyage was made in safety.

* * * * *

THE UNTOMBED MARINERS.

_An incident really witnessed in the Bay of Biscay._

The waves roll’d long and high In the fathomless Biscay, And the rising breeze swept sullen by, And the day closed heavily.

Our ship was tight and brave, Well trimm’d and sailing free, And she flew along on the mountain wave, An eagle of the sea.

The red cross fluttering yet, We lower’d the noble sign, For the bell had struck, it was past sunset, And the moon began to shine.

Her light was fitful, flung From a sky of angry gloom, Thick hurrying clouds o’er the waters hung, Their hue was of the tomb.

Yet now and then a gleam Broke through of her silent ray, And lit around with her soften’d beam Some spot of that plumbless bay.

O’er the bulwark’s side we heard The proud ship break the spray, While her shrouds and sheets by the wild winds stirr’d, Made music mournfully.

And we talk’d of battles past, Of shipwreck, rock, and shore, Of ports where peril or chance had cast Our sail the wide world o’er.

The watch look’d by the lee, A shapeless log was seen, A helmless ship it appear’d to be, And it lay the waves between.

Oh ’twas a fearful sight That helpless thing to see, Swimming mastless and lone at high midnight A corps on the black, black sea!

There were souls, perchance, on board, And heaving yet their breath, Men whose cry, amid their despair, was heard Not to meet ocean-death.

Our chief on deck up sprung, We lay too in that hollow deep-- Below, as our voices and trampling rung, The sleepers sprang from sleep.

The boat we loosed and lower’d, There were gallant hearts to go, The dark clouds broke that the moon embower’d, And her lights shone cheering through.

And we watch’d that little boat Pull up the mountain wave, Then sink from view, like a name forgot, Within an ancient grave.

They go--they climb the hull, As the waters wash the deck, They shout, and they hear but the billows dull Strike on that lonely wreck.

The skeletons of men Lay blanch’d and marrowless there, But clothed in their living garb, as when That ’reft ship was their care.

Lash’d to their planks they lay, The ropes still round them tied, Though drifted long leagues in that stormy bay, Since they hoped, despaired, and died.

Tombless in their decay, Mid the watery solitude, Days dawn’d upon them and faded away, Cold moons their death-sleep view’d.

Their names no trace may tell, Nor whither their passage bound, And our seamen leave the desolate hull With death and darkness round.

They tread their deck again, And silent hoist their boat-- They think of the fate of the unknown men Who for years may wildly float.

Those bones, that ocean bier, They well may sadly see, For they feel that the gallant ship they steer, _Their_ sepulchre may be.

There is grief for beauty’s woe, Laurels strew the hero’s hearse-- Are there none will the generous tear bestow For those untomb’d mariners![502]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 42·02.

[502] New Monthly Magazine.

~November 18.~

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 18th of November, 1777, died William Bowyer, an eminent printer of London, where he was born on the 17th of December, 1699. He had been always subject to a bilious colic, and for the last ten years of his life was afflicted with the palsy; yet he retained a remarkable cheerfulness of disposition, and his faculties, though somewhat impaired, enabled him to maintain the conversation of his literary friends, pursue a course of incessant reading, which was his principal amusement, and correct the learned works, especially the Greek books, printed at his press. Within a few weeks before his death, he sunk under his maladies and the progress of decay. His numerous critical writings afford ample evidence of his ability as a scholar; and as a learned printer, he had no rival for more than half a century. Of his regard to religion and morals, both in principle and practice, his whole life bore unquestionable evidence. His probity was inflexible. The promptitude with which he relieved every species of distress, and his modesty in endeavouring to conceal his benefactions, marked the benevolence and delicacy of his disposition. In the decline of life, and in his testamentary arrangements, he seems to have been influenced by a regard to two great objects; one was to repay the benefactions which had been conferred on his father at a time when he peculiarly needed assistance, and the other was to be himself a benefactor to the meritorious in his own profession. By his will, after liberally providing for his only surviving son, and allotting various private bequests, he appropriated several sums to “the benefit of printing,” particularly with a view to the relief of aged printers, compositors or pressmen, and to the encouragement of the journeyman compositor, whom he particularly describes, and who is required to be capable of reading and construing Latin, and, at least, of reading Greek fluently with accents. These latter bequests he committed to the direction and disposal of the master, wardens, and assistants of the Company of Stationers.

Mr. Bowyer was buried, agreeably to his own direction, at Low-Layton, in Essex, and a monument erected, at the expense of his friend, Mr. Nichols, to his father’s memory and his own, with a Latin inscription written by himself. There is a bust of him in Stationers’-hall, with an English inscription annexed, in his own words: and beside it are a portrait of his father, and another of his patron, Mr. Nelson, all presented to the Company by Mr. Nichols, who was his apprentice, partner, and successor; and who has done ample justice to his eminent predecessor’s memory, by an invaluable series of “Anecdotes” of Mr. Bowyer, and many celebrated literary characters of the last and present century, whose persons or writings Mr. Nichols’s professional labours and varied erudition had acquainted him with.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·82.

~November 19.~

CHRONOLOGY.

On this day in 1703 died, in the Bastille at Paris, an unknown prisoner, celebrated throughout Europe under the appellation of the _Man with the Iron Mask_; he had been confined, for state reasons, from the year 1661. There have been various disquisitions and controversies respecting his identity, but a recent work seems to have rendered it probable, that he was an Italian diplomatist who counteracted certain projects of Louis XIV., and was therefore condemned, by that monarch’s despotism, to perpetual imprisonment, in an iron mask, for the concealment of his features.

PLEASANT ILLUSTRATIONS--AND ADDITIONAL NOTICES.

A correspondent is pleased to communicate a series of reminiscences occasioned by accounts in the first volume. They form two interesting articles, viz.

MEMORANDA I.

_On Vol. I. of the Every-Day Book._

“Pages attend on books as well as lords.”

J. R. P.

Sir,--It is obvious, that he who reads the _Every-Day Book_ will think of things connected with the contents stated, and wish to append them as memoranda, for the perusal of those interested in the resuscitations of old customs and matters of fact. With this impression, I have collected my stray knowledge, and condensed it in the following compass. The _pages_ quoted, refer to the _first_ volume. _Ex. g._

122. “Powerful Optical Illusion.” Approaching a lamp in the high road near town, an object crossed my path; it appeared like a _large crab_, and, as I drew nearer, ran up the side of a house in the road-way with great velocity. When I reached the lamp, to my satisfaction, I proved this appearance to have been caused by a full-sized _spider_, which had passed the light, and made upwards to its web. Had I not accounted for this natural circumstance, I should certainly have considered it as a phenomenon worthy of anxiety.

123. “The Spectre.” A young lady in Bedfordshire, on coming of age, was promised by her father a present of any thing she chose to accept at his hand. She said, A skeleton! Her choice was gratified--a skeleton was sent for from London, and placed in a case in a room accessible to her. The room has ever since gone by the name of the “_Stranger’s Room_.” “Have you seen? or will you see, the stranger?” is the question put to all visitors. The daughter of Herodias seems to have scarcely exceeded the eccentric taste of this young lady.

136. “St. Agnes’ Eve.” After fasting the whole of the day, upon going to bed an egg must be filled with salt, and eaten, which occasions a great thirst. The vessel the female dreams of drinking from, according to situation and circumstances, denotes who will be her husband.

This charm for the _ague_, on “St. Agnes’ Eve,” is customary to be said up the chimney, by the eldest female in the family--

“Tremble and go! First day shiver and burn: Tremble and quake! Second day shiver and learn: Tremble and die! Third day never return.”

179. “Bears” are seen on the Stock Exchange in human shape, natural ones are kept by friseurs to supply grease for the hair. The Black Bear in Piccadilly, Taylor’s Bear in Whitechapel, the White Bear, and the Bear and Ragged Staff, as a punster would say, are _bear-able_ enough; but, I reprehend the “Dancing Bears” being led through the streets to perform antics for money. Two have appeared this month. Each with two monkeys, a camel, dromedary, and organ. Travellers have told of their sagacity; we believe them: but, that bears are made to stand upon hot iron, and undergo the severest discipline before they are fit for public exhibition, is a truth which harrows the feeling, and makes me wish the dancing bears unmuzzled, and let loose upon those who have the guidance of their education. The _ursa major_ of the literary hemisphere, Dr. Johnson, might have been a match for them.

207. “St. Blase.” He seems to have neglected the protecting the “Woolcombers.” Since the introduction of machinery, by Arkwright and others, very little cloth is manufactured by hand. The woolcomber’s greasy and oily wooden horse, the hobby of his livelihood, with the long teeth and pair of cards, are rarely seen. When scribblers, carders, billies, and spinning jennies, came into use, the wheel no longer turned at the cottage door, but a revolution among the working classes gave occasion for soldiers to protect the mills--time, however, has ended this strife with wool, and begun another with cotton.

246. “Pancake Day.” It is a _sine qua non_ at “_Tedbury Mop_,” before a maid servant is wholly qualified for the farmer’s kitchen, that she make apple fritters, and toss them without soot, or spoiling the batter.

348. “Sadler’s Wells.” It closed this season (1826) with a real benefit for Mrs. Fitzwilliam, October 2d. The new feature has been the horse-racing, in the open air, represented as at Newmarket. Boards were erected on every side, to conceal the race from the public in general, and ensure novelty to the play-going folks in particular. To give publicity to this amusement, the high-mettled racers, with riders, flags and bugles, in proper costume, paraded the environs daily, and distributed bills descriptive of cups, plate, bets, and other taking articles of jockeyship, which took place at evening. The thing did not take so much money as wished.

364. “St. Patrick’s Day” being my natal day, though not of Erin’s clime, I never fail dedicating a large _plum pudding_ to his _saintship_; round my table the “olive branches” spread, and I make this record to encourage all persons to do the same, in remembrance of _their_ parent’s solicitude, and the prospective harmony of the young.

402. “Good Friday.” The bun so fashionable, called the _Sally Lunn_, originated with a young woman of that name in Bath, about thirty years ago. She first cried them, in a basket with a white cloth over it, morning and evening. Dalmer, a respectable baker and musician, noticed her, bought her business, and made a song, and set it to music in behalf of “Sally Lunn.” This composition became the street favourite, barrows were made to distribute the nice cakes, Dalmer profited thereby, and retired; and, to this day, the _Sally Lunn_ cake, not unlike the hotcross bun in flavour, claims preeminence in all the cities in England.

422. “Lifting” is a custom practised with hurdles among shepherds, in the South Downs, at their marriages. The bride and bridegroom are carried round a flock of sheep; a fleece is put for their seat, and may-horns, made of the rind of the sycamore tree, are played by boys and girls. There is another sort of “lifting,” however; I have seen a tale-bearer in the village tossed in a blanket by the maids, as it is represented in “Don Giovanni in London,” a scene in the King’s Bench.

I am, Sir,

Your’s sincerely,

JEHOIADA.

MEMORANDA II.

_On Vol. I. of the Every-Day Book._

Franklin says, ‘farthings will amount to pounds:-- So _memorandums_ saved, will books produce.

J. R. P.

~Videlicit.~

507. “The Martin.” It is considered a presage of good, for this bird to build its nest in the corner of the bedroom-window; and particularly so, should the first inhabitants return in the season. I know it to be true, that a pair of martins built their nest in the curtains of a bed belonging to Mrs. Overton, of Loverrall, Yorkshire. The nest was suffered to remain unmolested, and access given to it from the air. Six successive seasons the old birds revisited their chosen spot, brought forth their young, and enjoyed their peace, till the death of their most kind benefactress; when a distribution of the furniture taking place, it dislodged the tenants of the wing, which to each of them was not all _Mihi Beati Martini_--“My eye, Betty Martin.”

570. “Milkmaids’ garland.” After I had sailed up the river Wye, and arrived at Chepstow-castle, my attention was arrested by one of the prettiest processions I remember to have enjoyed. It consisted of milkmaids dancing and serenading round an old man, whose few gray hairs were crowned by a wreath of wild flowers; he held a blossomy hawthorn in his right hand, and bore a staff, with cowslips and bluebells, in his left. A cow’s horn hung across his shoulders, which he blew on arriving at a house. The youths and lasses were more than thirty in number. Their arms, and heads and necks, were surrounded by clusters of lilies of the valley, and wild roses. Then came an apple-cheeked dame with a low-crowned, broad-brim hat; she wore spectacles, mittens were drawn up to her elbows, her waist trim, a woollen apron bound it, her petticoat short, blue worsted stockings, a high-heeled pair of shoes with silver buckles, and a broad tongue reposing on each instep. In one hand she held a brass kettle, newly scoured, it was full of cream; in the other, a basket of wood strawberries. To whoever came up to her with a saucer or basin, she gave a portion of her cream and fruit, with the trimmest curtsey I ever saw made by a dainty milkwoman betwixt earth and sky. She was “Aunt Nelly,” and her “Bough Bearer,” called “Uncle Ambrose,” was known for singing a song, “’Twas on one moonshiny night,” which his defective pronunciation lisped “meaun sheeiney.” Ambrose strummed an instrument in his turn, partly harp, and partly hirdy-girdy. Six goats, harnessed in flowers, carried utensils in milking and butter making; and the farmer of the party rode on a bull, also tastily dressed with the produce of the fields and hedges. A cheese and a hatchet were suspended behind him, and he looked proudly as he guided the docile animal to the public-house, into which the milkmaids and their sweethearts went, quickened in their motions by the cat-gut, which made stirring sounds up stairs. The flowery flag was thrust upwardly into the street, facing the iron bridge; and, getting again into the fisherman’s boat, I sailed and loitered down the banks of the river, charmed with what I had seen, felt, and understood. Of the milkmaids, Miss Thomas of Landcote was the darkest, the neatest, and the tallest--she stood _only_ five feet, ten inches high.

692. “Kiss in the ring.” The ‘_kissing crust_’ is that part of the loaf which is slightly burnt, and parted from the next loaf: hungry children who go home from the baker’s, know best what it is, by the sly bits they filch from that part denominated the ‘kissing crust.’

807. “Buy a Broom!” Since Bishop harmonised this popular cry, the Flemish girls cry ‘Buy a _brush_?’ but a greater novelty has arisen in some of them singing glees, quartets, and quintets in the streets. The tune is unconcordant, slow, and grave; these warblers walk in a line down the centre, with their hands crossed before their stomachs. Their simple attitude, together with their sunny cast, and artless glance, render them objects of pity; but the pence fall not so plentily to them as to the real John Bull, straightforward songs of the young weavers that go about with the model of a loom in work, fixed to the top of a rod five feet high.

839. “French pulpit.” The pulpit at Union Chapel, Islington, is made of beautiful grained “Honduras mahogany;” and that of St. Pancras, New-road, of the farfamed “Fairlop oak.”--Wesley and Whitefield were contented to emerge in their first career from the hogsheads of a grocer in Moorfields.

858. “Copenhagen-house.” This year, the Spanish and Italian refugees have resorted to this house in great numbers, and played many famous matches at ball. Nothing can be more retired than the garden formed into bowers for visiters--if the building mania should not recover, age will give the young plantations beauty, pleasure, and effect. Two new roads are made near Copenhagen-house; the one, leading from Kentish-town to Holloway, the other, from the latter to Pentonville. At “the Belvidere” racket is much played, and archery practised at “White Conduit-house.” It is gratifying that the labours of the _Every-Day Book_ are _not in vain_--the “Conduit” spoken of in vol. ii. col. 1203 has undergone repair; it is hoped, it will be enclosed by the proprietors as one of the new relics of venerable antiquity.

1435. “Beadles.” The beadle of Camberwell is a lineal descendant of Earl Withrington, of the same name so celebrated in the battle of Chevy Chase.

JEHOIADA.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·25.

~November 20.~

Edmund. King and Martyr.[503]

OFFENSIVE BARBERS.

On the 20th of November, 1746, fifty-one barbers were convicted before the commissioners of excise, and fined in the penalty of twenty pounds each, for having in their custody hair-powder not made of starch, contrary to act of parliament; and, on the 27th of the same month, forty-nine other barbers were convicted of the like offence, and fined in the same penalty.[504]

ROMAN STATIONS AT PANCRAS AND PENTONVILLE.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--The following observations have been the result of a visit to the site of the undoubted Roman camp at Pentonville, and the conjectural remains at St. Pancras. Respecting the former, I have been able to ascertain, that in the course of the year 1825 a labourer, who was occupied in digging in the prætorium, turned up a considerable quantity of arrow heads; and shortly afterwards, another labourer, digging a few yards to the south of the same spot, for materials to mend a road, uncovered a pavement of red tiles, about sixteen feet square, each tile being about an inch and a half thick, and about six inches square; they were mostly figured, and some had “strange characters upon them:” unfortunately, the discoverer had neither taste nor curiosity, and they were consigned to the bottom of a deep road.[505] Respecting the “Brill” (at Pancras) I have examined the ground, and find that S. G. (p. 1347,) is incorrect in stating the prætorium was perfect, half of it having been converted into bricks some months ago; and the brickmakers inform me, that nothing was found, not even a tile or brass coin. I will extract a little respecting this camp from a work of some authority, viz. The Environs of London.

Mr. Lysons, in that work, treats the idea of a camp having been made near this spot as quite conjectural,[506] and remarks, that Dr. Stukely’s imagination, in the pursuit of a favourite hypothesis, would sometimes enable him to see more than other antiquaries; leaving the language of conjecture, the Dr. points out the disposition of the troops, and the station of each general’s tent, with as much confidence as if he had himself been in the camp. Here was Cæsar’s prætorium; here was stationed Mandubrace, king of London;[507] here were the quarters of M. Crassus, the quæstor; here was Cominus; there the Gaulish princes, &c. &c. It is but justice to Dr. Stukely’s memory to mention, that this account of Cæsar’s camp was not printed in his life-time. As he withheld it from the public, it is probable he was convinced that his imagination had carried him too far, on this subject. Dr. S. remarks, that the vallum thrown up in the civil war was in the fields next the duke of Bedford’s: he adds, that it was levelled after the Restoration, and that scarcely a trace of it was (when he wrote) visible, notwithstanding Cæsar’s camp remained in so perfect a state after an interval of 1800 years. Mr. Lysons does not suppose, that the entrenchment at the _Brill_ was thrown up by the Londoners in 1642, since the name denotes something more ancient;[508] but it certainly appears, by the diurnals published at the time, that entrenchments and ramparts were thrown up in the fields near Pancras-church, during the civil war. He thinks it not improbable, that the moated areas, above-mentioned, near the church, were the sites of the vicarage and rectory-house, which are mentioned in a survey of the parish of Pancras _circa_ 1251.[509] This is certainly the most probable conclusion, and far superior to the wild chimeras of the learned doctor.

I will conclude this slight, and, I am aware, imperfect view of the various opinions, for and against, by observing, that I resided in Somers-town and its neighbourhood for a considerable period; I carefully watched every excavation made for sewers, foundations for houses, chapels, &c., but I never heard of any discoveries having been made. The place lies too low to have even been frequented by the Romans, more especially when the violence of the river of Wells is considered, which must have descended from the hills like a torrent, and have flooded the whole of the neighbourhood of Somers-town, Battle-bridge, &c.

I am, Sir, yours, &c.

T. A.

_Oct. 24, 1826._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 41·12.

[503] See vol. i. col. 1493.

[504] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[505] On visiting this camp, I searched for the “Old Well in the Fosse;” judge my surprise, when I found a modern circular frame of wood sunk in the fosse to collect clear water for the use of bricklayers, &c. this is a specimen of artists “pretty bits.”

[506] _Alias_--coinages of their own fancy.

[507] The idea is ridiculous, that the prætorium of the Roman general should be placed in a swampy, low situation, while such an advantageous position on the high ground, on which St. Pancras-church stands, is given to a native prince; another circumstance is against the doctor’s hypothesis, that this was a Roman camp, viz. a running stream through it.

[508] Dr. Stukely derives it from Bury Hill; but the lowness of the situation refutes such an etymology.

[509] View of London, vol. iii. p. 343-344.

~November 21.~

ÆROSTATION.

Messieurs Montgolfier, two brothers, paper-makers at Annonay in the department of Ardeche, in 1782 discovered the use of rarefied air in floating balloons; and on the 21st of November, 1783, the marquis d’Arlandes and M. Pilatre Rosier made the first _unconfined_ aërial voyage in a machine called a “Montgolfier,” in honour of the inventors, to distinguish it from balloons made with inflammable air.[510]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·27.

[510] Butler’s Chronological Exercises.

~November 22.~

CECILIA.[511]

Towards the latter end of the seventeenth century, an entertainment was instituted, on the 22d of November, in commemoration of her, by many of the first rank in the kingdom; which was continued annually for a considerable time. A splendid entertainment was provided at Stationers’-hall, which was constantly preceded by a performance of vocal and instrumental music, by the most capital performers. This feast is represented by Mr. Motteux, in 1691, as “one of the genteelest in the world; there are no formalities nor gatherings like as at others, and the appearance there is splendid.” The words, which were always an encomium on their patroness, were set by Purcell, Blow, and others of the greatest eminence; and it became the fashion for writers of all ranks to celebrate saint Cecilia. Besides the odes to her by Dryden, and Pope, Addison, and Yalden, employed their talents on this subject. We have also odes to saint Cecilia by Shadwell, D’Urfey, and some still more indifferent poets. It appears by Mr. Motteux, that there were in 1691 “admirable concerts in Charles-street and York-buildings.”

On the anniversary of St. Cecilia, in 1697, a sermon was preached at St. Bride’s church by Dr. Brady, which he published under the title of “Church Music Vindicated.” The last account discovered by Mr. Nichols, of any entertainment to her memory at Stationers’-hall, is in Mr. Hughes’s ode in 1703. The festivity appears to have been also celebrated at Oxford, and to have been continued there longer. There are two odes to St. Cecilia; one, in 1707, composed by Mr. Purcell, the other, in 1708, by Dr. Blow, “both performed at St. Mary-hall, in Oxon, by Mr. Saunders and Mr. Court, assisted by the best voices and bands.” Mr. Addison’s ode was performed there in 1699; and he has “a song,” without date, on the same occasion.[512]

CECILIAN SOCIETY.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

The “Cecilian Society,” established in 1785 by a few individuals, has continued, to the present day, to meet once a week for rehearsal, and once a fortnight for the public performance of vocal and instrumental music, chiefly sacred, by Handel, occasionally relieved by popular modern composition.

This society has been the school of eminent composers and performers: such as Barthelomon, Everett, Purkis, Banner, Busby, Griffin, Russel, Miss Bolton, Jacobs, Miss Gray, and many others; among whom are the brothers, the Mr. Nightingales, so highly esteemed in the musical world for their professional talent, and irreproachable demeanour.

The venerable president, Mr. Z. Vincent, is one of the old school of harmonists, and a man of letters. His heart and soul are identified in Handel’s oratorios, and his judgment continues unimpaired. A Mr. Edwards is another instance of attachment to the society, he having been a member upwards of twenty years. The great “unity” that has prevailed, and still prevails, in this society, is an example worthy of a niche in the _Every-Day Book_. Their present performances are held at the “Albion Hall,” Moorfields, and well attended by the issue of “tickets.” In honour of this day, a grand miscellaneous concert is annually performed; many celebrated professionals attend, and the lovers of harmony never fail of having a high treat.

ASTRONOMICAL.

On the 22nd of November the sun enters Sagittarius.

According to an old magical MS. of the fourteenth century, an aspect of “Sagittary” seems to have dominion over dogs. “_When you wish to enter where there are dogs; that they may not hinder you_, make a tin image of a dog, whose head is erected towards his tail, under the first face of _Sagittary_, and say over it, ‘I bind all dogs by this image, that they do not raise their heads or bark;’ and _enter where you please_.”[513]

[Illustration: ~“Ben”--“the Old General”--of Nottingham.~]

Commander of some forces there, And intimate with Mr. Mayor.

*

Benjamin Mayo is believed to be the proper name of the “General,” his other appellations he derived from having been the ringleader of the boys, from his youth to the present time, on all occasions for which they assemble together in the town of Nottingham.

In order “to secure the boundaries of the town, a certain number of respectable characters, annually appointed, form what is called the _Middleton_, _Mickleton_, or _Leet Jury_, and circumambulate them twice a year, with the coroner at their head; it is also the duty of this jury to break down all obstructions in old roads, to fine those persons who may have made such encroachments as do not immediately obstruct a public road, and to present all nuisances at the quarter sessions.”[514] At the Easter and Michaelmas quarter sessions, the day for these duties is always appointed to be the Monday se’nnight following; and hence it is called _Middleton Monday_. The name of “Middleton is said to be retained from lord Middleton,” who is steward of the Peveril Court, which has now no jurisdiction in Nottingham, it being a town-county. The origin of these matters, however, is of little consequence in an account of the “General;” they are only referred to as preparatory to the observation, that he is a conspicuous personage in the ceremonial of the day.

On “Middleton Monday” all the school-boys in the town expect a holyday; it is the _juvenile Saturnalia_; and though the “General” is great on all occasions, he is especially so on “Middleton Monday;” for compared with him, the mayor, the coroner, and other municipal authorities, are subordinate officers in the estimation of the youthful tribes.

Previous to the jury commencing their survey, away trots “General,” with several hundreds of boys at his heels, to secure the sacred and inviolable right of a holyday. Two or three urchins, with shining, morning faces, lead the way to their own schoolmaster’s, who, in violation of the “orders of the day,” is seated amidst the few children whose parents have refused to grant a holyday, and therefore dare not “play _travant_.” Some “devoted Decius” in miniature, ventures in, on the forlorn hope of procuring liberty for the rest. Down drop books, pens, pencils, to the increasing cry of “Out, out, out.” The commander-in-chief arrives, amidst the cheers of his enthusiastic and devoted troops, takes up his position opposite to the door, and commands the onset. The advanced guard assail the portal with redoubled blows of their pocket-handkerchiefs, and old rope-ends, knotted into _tommies_, and the main body throw the missile mud. Ere long, a random stone breaks some window; this is speedily followed by a second and third crash; out sallies the master to seize the culprit, his sentinels are overpowered, the invaders rush in, the besieged are unmercifully belaboured till the capitulation is completed, but no sooner do they join the “liberating army,” than a shout of triumph is raised, and the place is abandoned. The aide-de-camps having reported to “the General,” what other fortresses hold out, the nearest is attacked in the same way. It often happens, however, that a parley is demanded, and “the General” shamelessly receives a bribe to desist. Alas! that one so devoted to the cause of liberty should be so easily corrupted--twopence will induce the commander-in-chief to withdraw, with his faithful followers, of fickle principle, and leave the anxious garrison to the uncontrolled power of its wily governor.

Upwards of twenty years ago, opposition to “the General” was rare, but about that period schoolmasters began to learn their strength. One individual successfully resisted during a three hours’ siege; the house for years bore marks of the mud with which it was pelted; but ever after he was triumphant, though frequently at the expense of an oaken staff, or an ash sapling, broken in repulsing the invaders. After repeated assaults, “the General” deemed this “hold” impregnable, and desisted from his attacks.

So many of the disciples of learning being emancipated, or prisoners, as “the General” can liberate or capture, he sets forward with the “surveying council,” escorted by his army, to commence the perambulation of the town. If a projecting scraper endanger the shins of the burgesses, it is recorded, and the Middleton jury pass on; but the juvenile admirers of summary and instantaneous justice are for the immediate removal of the offender. Perhaps the good old dame of the house “likes not these new regulations,” and takes up a strong position in its defence, armed with a mop and bucket of water. After a momentous pause, a hardy champion rushes forward to seize the offensive iron, and wrench it from its seat; he retires, overwhelmed and half drowned; hero after hero presses on, and is defeated; till some modern Ajax grapples with the mop, and making a diversion in favour of the assailants, the luckless scraper is borne off in triumph.

View “the General” at eleven o’clock, with his forces drawn up in front of the Castle lodge, demanding admittance into the Castle yard--a summons always evaded by the distribution of a quantity of cakes and gingerbread. On “the General’s” word of command the precious sweets are thrown, one by one, over the gate, and the confusion of a universal scramble ensues. After the whole is distributed, the popularity of “the General” rapidly wanes; hundreds are reduced to scores, and scores to ones--at noon he is

Deserted in his utmost need By those his former bounty fed.

In memory, however, of his departed greatness, he never deigns to work for the rest of the day.

Before the approach of “Middleton Monday,” fifty times a day the important question is put to the General, “When will be _Middleton Monday_?” Once he said, “I don’t know yet, the mayor ha’n’t ax’d me what day’ll suit me.” On the following Saturday he answered, “The mayor sent his respects to know if I’d let it be Middleton Monday next week; and I sent my respects, and I’d come.”

Ben Mayo has ever been “null, void, and of no effect,” except in his character of “General.” He is a harmless idiot, who, during most of his life, has been an inmate of St. Peter’s workhouse. He is now nearly fifty years of age. If erect, he would be under the middle size; his stature not being more than four feet nine inches. He is very round-shouldered. His eyes are dark grey, and rather lively; the lower part of his face is no way remarkable, but his forehead is very high, and singularly prominent in the middle; his head, which is thinly covered with hair cut very short, always projected before him in his shuffling gait, which is rather a run than a walk. His vestment generally consists of the “hodden grey” uniform of the parish; his shirt collar, like that of some other public characters, is usually unbuttoned, and displays his copper-coloured bosom. Grey stockings and quarter boots complete his equipment, for he never wears a hat. Though coarse, his dress is generally clean and tidy.

“The General” is constant in his attendance at church, where his behaviour is serious; and he would on no account be seen about in the streets on the Sabbath, for, being one of the public characters of the town, it would be setting a bad example. In politics, he is a staunch supporter of the powers that be; on such occasions as the king’s birth-day, and the coronation, Ben is sure to be seen with a bunch of blue riband to his coat, while at an election, to display his loyalty, he is dusted with power-blue from the crown of his head to the skirts. He has, however, no objection to aid “the Jacobin corporation,” as far as in him lies; and, according to his own account, he is particularly intimate with the mayor for the time being, whom he allows to be the first man in the town--himself being second. He is remarkably fond of peace and with his wand in hand will “charge” it, where there is no fear of its being broken.

Like other military men, “General” is a favourite with the ladies, inasmuch as he is known equally to high and low, and makes promises to all indiscriminately (who please him) that he will marry them “next Sunday morning;” at the same time, he cautions the favoured fair not to be later than half past seven, “for fear somebody else should get him.”

The “General’s” usual occupation is to sell the cheap commodities of the walking stationers, such as dreadful shipwrecks, horrid murders, calendars of the prisoners, last dying speeches and behaviours, or lists of the race horses. Sometimes, when the titles of these occur closely, he makes curious “varieties of literature.” Not long since, he was calling “A right and true calendar of all the running horses confined in his majesty’s _gole_, owners’ names, horses’ names, and colours of the riders, tried, cast, ’quit, and condemned before my lord judge this ’sizes, and how they came in every heat of the three days, with the sentences of the prisoners.”

About four years ago, at Lenton fair and wakes, which are always at Whitsuntide, and numerously attended from Nottingham, being only a mile distant, some wag set “General” to proclaim the Lenton fair. On this occasion he mounted an enormous cocked hat of straw, and had his wand in his hand. He jumbled together pigs, gingerbread, baa-lambs, cows, dolls, horses, ale, fiddling, sheep, &c. in a confused mass; whilst the latter part of the proclamation, though perfectly true, was very far from being “quite correct.”

Of the many anecdotes current of “General,” one or two authentic ones will display the union of shrewdness and simplicity common to persons of his order of intelligence. On a certain occasion, when public attention was directed towards the commander-in-chief, one evening in the twilight Ben began, “Here’s the grand and noble speech as the duke of York made yesterday.” A person, who had heard nothing of such a speech, immediately purchased one, and on approaching a window found himself possessed of a piece of blank paper. “General,” said he, “here’s nothing on it.” “No, sir, the duke of York said _nowt_.” Being set, at the workhouse, to turn a wheel, he did so properly enough for about half an hour, but becoming tired, he immediately began to turn backwards, nor could he be persuaded to the contrary. A blockhead once tried to make him quarrel with an idiot lad, as they were employed in sweeping the street together; “Oh,” said he, “he is a poor soft lad, and beneath _my_ notice.” There is another instance of his dislike of work: having been set to weed part of the garden, he performed the task by pulling up all the flowers and herbs, and leaving the weeds growing. He once found a sixpence, and ran up the street shouting, “Who’s lost sixpence, who’s lost sixpence?” “It’s mine, General,” said one. “But had your’s a hole in it?” “Yes,” said he--“But this hasn’t,” rejoined General, and away he ran. His mode of running is remarkable, inasmuch as one leg is considerably shorter than the other, which gives his body an up-and-down motion. One peculiarity is, that when he has any fresh papers to sell he will never stop to take money till quite out of breath, and arrived at the extremity of the town.

* * * * *

DAVID LOVE, of whom there is an account in the present volume of the _Every-Day Book_, p. 226, is still in Nottingham. In May he visited Hull, but while carolling his wild lays in a place where he was not known, he was apprehended as a vagrant, and consigned to the tread-mill for a fortnight.

“Oft from apparent ills our blessings flow.”

David, on his return to Nottingham, favoured us with “three _varra couras_ poems of David Love’s composing, all about the _trad_ wheel, where he _warked_ for a fortnight--only a penny.” His numerous admirers purchased considerably.

Besides the “General” and the “bard” now living, Nottingham has been the residence of several equally noted personages deceased; such as Tommy Rippon, Piping Charley, the ventriloquist, &c.; and we have yet amongst us Jacky Peet, and other memorable characters, whose fame, it is feared, may not find an honest chronicler.

_Nottingham, Oct. 23, 1826._

~G.~

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·65.

[511] See vol. i. col. 1495.

[512] Nichols’s Sel. Coll. of Poems.

[513] Fosbroke’s British Monachism.

[514] Blackner’s History of Nottingham.

~November 23.~

ST. CLEMENT.[515]

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--In your last year’s volume I see you have taken great notice of St. Clement, and the customs observed on his day; but I do not see any mention of a custom which was common in _Worcestershire_, where I was born. I am entirely ignorant of its origin; yet in my youth I have often been at its celebration. The custom was as follows:--

On the afternoon of St. Clement’s day, a number of boys collected together in a body, and went from house to house; and at the door of each house, one, or sometimes more, would recite, or chaunt, the following lines--

Catherine and Clement, be here, be here; Some of your apples, and some of your beer Some for Peter, and some for Paul, And some for him that made us all. Clement was a good old man, For his sake give us some; Not of the worst, but some of the best, And God will send _your soul to rest_.

Some would say,

And God will send _you a good night’s rest_

Sometimes grown men would go in like manner, and, to such, the people of the house would give ale or cider; but to the boys they gave apples, or, if they had none to spare, a few halfpence. Having collected a good store of apples, which they seldom failed to do, the boys repaired to some one of their houses, where they roasted and ate the apples; and frequently the old would join the young, and large vessels of ale or cider would be brought in, and some of the roasted apples thrown hot into it, and the evening would then be spent with much mirth and innocent amusement; such as, I sorrow to think, have departed never to return.

Such, sir, was one of the usages “in my youthful days,” in that part of the country of which I have spoken. I have had but little intercourse with it of late years, but I fear these _improved_ times have left but little spirit or opportunity for the observance of such ways, or the enjoyment of such felicity. Much has been said of improvement, and the happy state of the present over times past; but, on striking the balance, it may be found that the poor have lost much of their solid comfort, for the little improvement they have obtained.

You, Mr. Editor, have exposed with a masterly hand the superstitions and monkery of the olden time, for which you have my best thanks, in common, I believe, with those of nine out of every ten in the nation; but should a Mr. HONE arise two hundred years hence, I think he would have something to say upon these _our_ times. I fear, however, I am going beyond my object, which is not to find fault, but to acquaint you with a practice which, if worthy a place in your pleasant, instructive, and highly useful work, I shall be glad to see there memorialed.

I am, &c.

SELITS.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·02.

[515] See vol. i. col. 1497.

~November 24.~

SPECTRES AND APPARITIONS.

In a popular “calendar” there are some observations on this day, which, as the time for telling “Ghost stories” is come in, seem appropriate. They are to the effect, that there is an essential difference between “Ocular Spectres” and “Spectral Illusions.”

_Ocular Spectres_ move with the motion of the eye, whatever may be the forms of the spectrum on the retina; hence, they are spectra in the eye.

_Spectral Illusions_, or _Ghosts_, seem to move with their own proper motion, like real persons, and the objects in dreams; hence they are not in the eye itself or retina, but may arise in the brain.

We know nothing of the particular laws whereby these forms are regulated, as they occur without the conscious precurrence of the usual chains of thought, and often represent forms, and combinations of forms, almost entirely new to us. Some persons only see these spectres once or twice in their lives, and that only during diseases: others are continually harassed by them, and often mistake some one consistent spectre, which frequently comes and converses with them, for their guardian angel. In proportion, however, as the phantom gains on the credulity of the patient who beholds it, the latter approximates towards insanity. According to the disturbance of the brain of the individuals, the spectres are either horrifying or delightful, and partake of the character of the patient’s mind, as it is influenced variously by desire, fear, hope, and so on. We have known instances where the antiphlogistic measures resorted to with success, have been viewed by the patient, when recovered, as positive evils, having forcibly torn from him some perpetual and pleasing illusion.

The late Mr. John Wheeler, prebendary of Westminster, used to relate a remarkable story of the Abbé Pilori at Florence, who incurred a tremendous spectral disorder in consequence of a surfeit of mushrooms he one day ate. These fungi, not digesting, disturbed his brain, and he saw the frightful and appalling forms of scorpions continually before his eyes for a length of time.

This brings to our minds yet another observation with regard to spectra. Persons who are somewhat delirious from fever are apt to give to half-distinguished forms, in a darkish chamber, the most frightful imaginary shapes. This is a disorder distinct from that of seeing phantoms. A. Y. R. a child, being ill of fever, saw some bulbous roots laying on a table in the room, and conceived them immediately to be scorpions; nor could any thing convince her of the contrary, and they consequently were removed out of the room to relieve her terrors.

A familiar instance of deception is exemplified in the false voices which some persons imagine they hear calling them, faintly in common, but so as to deceive for a moment. When this false perception of sound concurs with images of spectral illusion, a formidable imitation of reality is maintained.[516]

* * * * *

A poetical friend, whose signature will be recollected as having been attached to “SEA SONNETS,” obligingly communicates a seasonable effusion of the like order of composition, prefaced by the following passage from Dr. Buchan:--

“If the power of volition be suspended, persons may dream while they are awake. Such is the case when, in an evening, looking into the fire, we let slip the reins of the imagination, and, yielding implicitly to external objects, a succession of splendid or terrific imagery is produced by the embers in the grate.”

* * * * *

FIRE-SIDE SONNET.

_For the Every-Day Book._

For very want of thought and occupation Upon my fire, as broad and high it blaz’d, In idle and unweeting mood I gaz’d, And, in that mass of bright and glowing things Fancy, which in such moments readiest springs, Soon found materials for imagination: Within the fire, all listless as I maz’d, There saw I trees and towers, and hills and plains, Faces with warm smiles glowing, flocks and swains. And antic shapes of laughable creation: And thus the poet’s soul of fire contains A store of all things bright and glorious! rais’d By fancy, that daft artizan, to shape Into fair scenes and forms, that nature’s best may ape.

W. T. M.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·80.

[516] Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.

~November 25.~

ST. CATHERINE.

For an account of this Saint, see vol. i. col. 1504.

BUBBLES.

In the “Morning Advertiser” of this day, 1807, which year was almost as much distinguished by joint-stock impositions as the present, there are two advertisements, which, from their station in the advertising columns of that paper, have a more remarkable, than if they had been displayed in its columns of entertainment, viz:

FINAL MEETING of the PUBLIC BLACKING SUBSCRIPTION COMPANY, held at the Boot in Leather-lane,

ANTHONY VARNISH, Esq. in the Chair, Sir John Blackwell, Knight, being indisposed.

The Chairman reported that Mr. Timothy Lightfoot, the Treasurer, had brushed off with the old fund, and that the deputation who had waited on Mr. Fawcett, the Proprietor of the Brilliant Fluid Blacking, at No. 76, Houndsditch, could not prevail on him to dispose of his right thereto in favour of this Company, although they had made him the most liberal offers.

Resolved, That this Meeting being fully sensible that any attempt to establish a rival Blacking would totally fail of success, from the high estimation in which the above popular article is held, and the mishap of the Treasurer having damped the ardour of the undertaking, that this design be altogether abandoned.

Resolved, That the character of the Promoters of this Company ought not to be blackened in public esteem, as there is no direct proof of their having shared the spoils with the Treasurer.

Signed, by Order of the Meeting,

JACOB BRUSHWELL, Sec.

THE LONDON COMPANY for GENUINE MATCHES.--It having been suggested to Mr. Parr, Proprietor of the Equitable Office, Holborn-hill, that a complaint prevails among Servants, owing to the adulteration of Brimstone, and the badness of Wood, in consequence of which, they cannot get their Fires lighted in proper time, which obliges many of their Masters to go to business without their breakfast.

Such imposition having proved very injurious to a number of servants, by being discharged for neglect of duty, has induced Mr. Parr, in conjunction with six eminent Timber Merchants, to purchase those extensive Premises in Gunpowder-alley, near Shoe-lane, formerly occupied by the Saltpetre Company, for the sole purpose of a Genuine Match Manufactory.

The Public may be assured that this laudable undertaking is countenanced by some of the first characters in the United Kingdoms.

The Managers pledge themselves to employ the best work-people, both men, women, and children, that can be procured, which will amount to 1500 persons and upwards, as they conclude, by the large orders already received, that a less number will procrastinate the business.

Each Subscriber to have the privilege of recommending two, who are to bring certificates from the Minister of the Parish where they reside, of their being sober, honest, and industrious persons.

The Managers further engage to make oath before the Lord Mayor every three months, that the matches are made of the most prime new yellow Deal, and also that the Brimstone is without the least adulteration.

Not less than 12 penny bunches can be had.

Any order amounting to 1_l._ will be sent free of expense, to any part of the town, not exceeding two miles from the Manufactory.

The Capital first intended to be raised is Two Millions, in 50_l._ Shares, 2_l._ per Share to be paid at the time of subscribing, 3_l._ that day month, 4_l._ in six weeks, 5_l._ in two months, and so on regularly until the whole is subscribed.

Holders of five shares to be on Committees, and holders of ten will qualify them for Directors.

Although this plan has not been set on foot more than a week, it is presumed the call for Shares has been equal to a month’s demand for Shares in any of the late Institutions.

Schemes at large may be had, and Subscriptions received by Mr. Tinder, Secretary, at the Counting-house, from ten till two; also at his Residence, near the Turpentine Manufactory, St. John-street-road, from four to six; likewise by Messrs. Sawyer, Memel, and Tieup, Solicitors, Knave’s-acre, Westminster.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 41·27.

~November 26.~

THE SEASON.

Autumnal appearances are increasing, and occasional gales of wind and interchanges of nipping frost hasten the approaching winter. The following passage seems to allude to the wintry garb of nature:--“The earth mourneth and languisheth; Lebanon is ashamed and withereth away; Sharon is like a wilderness; and Bashan and Carmel shake off their fruits.”--Isaiah, xxiii. 9.

Soon shall we be compelled to exclaim with the poet, in reference to this, generally speaking, gloomy season,

That time of year thou mayest in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang On those wild boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined quires, where late the sweet birds sang.

November, however, has its bright as well as its dark side. “It is now,” observes a pleasing writer, “that the labourer is about to enjoy a temporary mitigation of the season’s toil. His little store of winter provision having been hardly earned and safely lodged, his countenance brightens, and his heart warms, with the anticipation of winter comforts. As the day shortens and the hours of darkness increase, the domestic affections are awakened anew by a closer and more lengthened converse; the father is now once more in the midst of his family; the child is now once more on the knee of its parent; and she, in whose comfort his heart is principally interested, is again permitted, by the privileges of the season, to increase and to participate his happiness. It is now that the husbandman is repaid for his former risk and anxiety--that, having waited patiently for the coming harvest, he builds up his sheaves, loads his waggons, and replenishes his barns.” It is now that men of study and literary pursuit are admonished of the best season suited for the pursuits of literature; and the snug fireside in an armed chair, during a long winter’s evening, with an entertaining book, is a pleasure by no means to be despised. There is something, too, very pleasing in the festivals which are now approaching, and which preserve the recollection of olden time.[517]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 41·52.

[517] Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.

~November 27.~

A NATIONAL DEATH DAY.

The chapter of an old, black-letter book of wonderful things concludes with the following amusing paragraph:--

“Here may we also speak of the people, Lucumoria, dwelling among the hilles, beyond the river Olbis. These men die every year the 27 of November, which day at Rutheas was dedicated to Saint Gregorie; and in the next spring following, most commonly at the four and twentieth day of April, they rise again like frogs.”[518]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·00.

[518] Batman’s Doome.

~November 28.~

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·65.

~November 29.~

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·90.

~November 30.~

ST. ANDREW.

Respecting this Saint, the patron of Scotland, there is a notice in vol. i. 1537.

THE MODEL LOTTERY.

_For the Every-Day Book._

A Model Lottery is drawn on the 30th of November, at Mr. Oldershaw’s office, Lower-street, Islington. Several capital prizes are made, the principal of which is Fonthill Abbey, valued at 5_l._ There are others less valuable, Islington church, Cannonbury Tower, the Queen’s Head, Sir William Curtis’s villa, at Southgate,--the house in which Garrick was born,--many Italian buildings, and a variety to the number of 500. Each adventurer, by paying three shillings, draws a share which is equal, in the worst chance, to the deposit. The scheme is contrived by an ingenious artist and his wife, whose names are Golding. Previously to the drawing-day, three days are allowed for friendly inspection. It is laudable to see this Model Lottery patronised by the most respectable ladies and gentlemen in the vicinity where it takes place. This is the second year of its existence.

P.S. For Bradenstock, p. 1371, read Bradenstoke; and for Brinkworth, p. 1373, read Bremhill. Dr. Allsop, of Calne, was the gentleman who cut out the “White Horse at Cheverill,” at which place and time a revel was most merrily kept.

J. R. P.

CORRECTIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS,

_For the Every-Day Book_.

Your correspondent in his account of “Clack Fall Fair,” p. 1371, has fallen into a few mistakes.

Bradenstoke was not an _abbey_, but a _priory_.

He might have inquired some further particulars of the Golden Image, said to have been found. In whose possession it now is? It is believed the circumstance, if true, is not generally known in the neighbourhood. _Query_, the name of the Carpenter?

The idea of a subterraneous passage from Bradenstoke Priory to Malmsbury Abbey, a distance of eight or ten miles, intersected by a deep valley, through which the Avon meanders, is absurd, and can only be conceived as one of the wild traditions derived from monkish times.

Can your correspondent furnish further particulars of the horrible story of the boy murdered by his schoolmaster, when and whom?

His account of “Joe Ody’s” exploits may be very correct. He is well remembered by the elder peasantry.

It is presumed, your correspondent meant to say, that the song was attributed to _Bowles_ of _Bremhill_, not _Brinkworth_. The Rev. W. L. Bowles is rector, or vicar, of Bremhill, about five or six miles from Clack Brinkworth, about the same distance in the opposite direction.

Your correspondent might have noticed the mound called _Clack Mount_. Perhaps he will favour you with further recollections of the localities of Clack, and its vicinity.

The remains of a _may-pole_ are visible at Clack; but the pole itself is believed not to be remembered by any person now living, or, if remembered, by very old persons only.

A READER.

[Illustration: DECEMBER.]

While I have a home, and can do as I will, December may rage over ocean and hill, And batter my door--as he does once a year-- I laugh at his storming, and give him good cheer. Derry down, &c.

I’ve a trencher and cup, and something to ask A friend to sit down to--and then a good flask: The best of all methods, to make Winter smile, Is living as I do--in old English style. Derry down, &c.

Now--whoever regards a comfortable fire, in an old-fashioned cottage, as a pleasant sight, will be pleased by this sketch, as a cheerful illustration of the dreary season; nor may it be deemed too intrusive, perhaps, to mention, that the artist who drew and engraved it, is Mr. SAMUEL WILLIAMS.

In this, the last, month of the year “the beautiful Spring is almost forgotten in the anticipation of that which is to come. The bright Summer is no more thought of, than is the glow of the morning sunshine at night-fall. The rich Autumn only just lingers on the memory, as the last red rays of its evenings do when they have but just quitted the eye. And Winter is once more closing its cloud-canopy over all things, and breathing forth that sleep-compelling breath which is to wrap all in a temporary oblivion, no less essential to their healthful existence than is the active vitality which it for a while supersedes.” Yet among the general appearances of nature there are still many lively spots and cheering aspects. “The furze flings out its bright yellow flowers upon the otherwise bare common, like little gleams of sunshine; and the moles ply their mischievous night-work in the dry meadows; and the green plover ‘whistles o’er the lea;’ and the snipes haunt the marshy grounds; and the wagtails twinkle about near the spring-heads; and the larks get together in companies, and talk to each other, instead of singing to themselves; and the thrush occasionally puts forth a plaintive note, as if half afraid of the sound of his own voice; and the hedge-sparrow and titmouse try to sing; and the robin does sing still, even more delightfully than he has done during all the rest of the year, because it now seems as if he sang for us rather than for himself--or rather to us, for it is still for his supper that he sings, and therefore for himself.”[519]

* * * * *

The “Poetical Calendar” offers a little poem with some lines descriptive of the month, which are pleasant to read within doors, while “rude Boreas” is blustering without:--

DECEMBER.

Last of the months, severest of them all, Woe to the regions where thy terrors fall! For lo! the fiery horses of the sun Thro’ the twelve signs their rapid course have run, Time, like a serpent, bites his forked tail, And Winter on a goat bestrides the gale; Rough blows the north wind near Arcturus’ star, And sweeps, unrein’d, across the polar bar, On the world’s confines where the sea bears prowl, And Greenland whales, like moving islands, roll: There, on a sledge, the rein-deer drives the swain To meet his mistress on the frost-bound plain. Have mercy, Winter!--for we own thy power, Thy flooding deluge, and thy drenching shower; Yes--we acknowledge what thy prowess can, But oh! have pity on the toil of man! And, tho’ the floods thy adamantine chain Submissive wear--yet spare the treasur’d grain: The peasants to thy mercy now resign The infant seed--their hope, and future mine. Not always Phœbus bends his vengeful bow, Oft in mid winter placid breezes blow; Oft tinctur’d with the bluest transmarine The fretted canopy of heaven is seen; Girded with argent lamps, the full-orb’d moon In mild December emulates the noon; Tho’ short the respite, if the sapphire blue Stain the bright lustre with an inky hue; Then a black wreck of clouds is seen to fly, In broken shatters, thro’ the frighted sky: But if fleet Eurus scour the vaulted plain, Then all the stars propitious shine again.

[519] Mirror of the Months.

~December 1.~

OBESITY.

Mr. Edward Bright, of Maldon, in the county of Essex, who died at twenty-nine years of age, was an eminent shopkeeper of that town, and supposed to be, at that time, the largest man living, or that had ever lived in this island. He weighed six hundred, one quarter, and twenty-one pounds; and stood about five feet nine inches high; his body was of an astonishing bulk, and his legs were as large as a middling man’s body. Though of so great a weight and bulk, he was surprisingly

## active.

After Bright’s death, a wager was proposed between Mr. Codd and Mr. Hants, of Maldon, that five men at the age of twenty-one, then resident there, could not be buttoned within his waistcoat without breaking a stitch or straining a button. On the 1st of December, 1750, the wager was decided at the house of the widow Day, the Black Bull in Maldon, when five men and two more were buttoned within the waistcoat of the great personage deceased. There is a half-sheet print, published at the time, representing the buttoning up of the seven persons, with an inscription beneath, to the above effect.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 41·10.

~December 2.~

WINTER.

Winter may be now considered as having set in; and we have often violent winds about this time, which sweep off the few remaining leaves from the trees, and, with the exception of a few oaks and beeches, leave the woods and forests nothing but a naked assemblage of bare boughs. December, thus robbing the woods of their leafy honours, is alluded to by Horace, in his Epod. xi.:--

Hic tertius December, ex quo destiti Inachiâ furere, Sylvis honorem decutit.

Picture to yourself, gentle reader, one of these blustering nights, when a tremendous gale from south-west, with rattling rain, threatens almost the demolition of every thing in its way: but add to the scene the inside of a snug and secure cottage in the country,--the day closed, the fire made up and blazing, the curtains drawn over a barricadoing of window-shutters which defy the penetration of Æolus and all his excarcerated host; the table set for tea, and the hissing urn or the kettle scarce heard among the fierce whistling, howling, and roaring, produced alternately or together, by almost every species of sound that wind can produce, in the chimneys and door crannies of the house. There is a feeling of comfort, and a sensibility to the blessings of a good roof over one’s head, and a warm and comfortable hearth, while all is tempest without, that produces a peculiar but real source of pleasure. A cheerful but quiet party adds, in no small degree, to this pleasure. Two or three intelligent friends sitting up over a good fire to a late hour, and interchanging their thoughts on a thousand subjects of mystery,--the stories of ghosts--and the tales of olden times,--may perhaps beguile the hours of such a stormy night like this, with more satisfaction than they could a midsummer evening under the shade of trees in a garden of roses and lilies. And then, when we retire to bed in a room with thick, woollen curtains closely drawn, and a fire in the room, how sweet a lullaby is the piping of the gale down the flues, and the peppering of the rain on the tiles and windows; while we are now and then rocked in the house as if in a cradle![520]

_For the Every-Day Book._

DECEMBER MUSINGS.

SONNET STANZAS.

Ανεμων πνεοντων την ηχω προσκυνει.

PYTHAGORAS

_Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem-- Aut, gelidas hybernus aquas cum fuderit auster, Securem somnos, imbre juvante, sequi!_

TIBULLUS.

I love to hear the high winds pipe aloud, When ’gainst the leafy nations up in arms; Now screaming in their rage, now shouting, proud-- Then moaning, as in pain at war’s alarms: Then softly sobbing to unquiet rest, Then wildly, harshly, breaking forth again As if in scorn at having been represt, With marching sweep careering o’er the plain And, oh! I love to hear the gusty shower Against my humble casement, pattering fast, While shakes the portal of my quiet bower; For then I envy not the noble’s tower, Nor, while my cot thus braves the storm and blast, Wish I the tumult of the heavens past. Yet wherefore joy I in the loud uproar Does still life cloy? has peace no charms for me? Pleases calm nook and ancient home no more, But do I long for wild variety? Ah! no;--the noise of elements at jar, That bids the slumbers of the worldling close, Lone nature’s child does not thy visions mar, It does but soothe thee to more sure repose! I sigh not for variety nor power, My cot, like castled hall, can brave the storm; Therefore I joy to list the sweepy shower, And piping winds, at home, secure and warm: While soft to heaven my orisons are sent, In grateful thanks for its best boon, CONTENT!

W. T. M.[521]

THE SEASON.

The gloominess of the weather, and its frequently fatal influence on the mind, suggest the expediency of inserting the following:--

DISSUASIONS FROM DESPONDENCY.

1. If you are distressed in mind, _live_; serenity and joy may yet dawn upon your soul.

2. If you have been contented and cheerful, _live_; and generally diffuse that happiness to others.

3. If misfortunes have befallen you by your own misconduct, _live_; and be wiser for the future.

4. If things have befallen you by the faults of others, _live_; you have nothing wherewith to reproach yourself.

5. If you are indigent and helpless, _live_; the face of things may agreeably change.

6. If your are rich and prosperous, _live_; and enjoy what you possess.

7. If another hath injured you, _live_; his own crime will be his punishment.

8. If you have injured another, _live_; and recompence it by your good offices.

9. If your character be attacked unjustly, _live_; time will remove the aspersion.

10. If the reproaches are well founded, _live_; and deserve them not for the future.

11. If you are already eminent and applauded, _live_; and preserve the honours you have acquired.

12. If your success is not equal to your merit, _live_; in the consciousness of having deserved it.

13. If your success hath exceeded your merit, _live_; and arrogate not too much to yourself.

14. If you have been negligent and useless to society, _live_; and make amends by your future conduct.

15. If you have been active and industrious, _live_; and communicate your improvements to others.

16. If you have spiteful enemies, _live_; and disappoint their malevolence.

17. If you have kind and faithful friends, _live_; to protect them.

18. If hitherto you have been impious and wicked, _live_; and repent of your sins.

19. If you have been wise and virtuous, _live_; for the future benefit of mankind.--And lastly,

20. If you hope for immortality, _live_; and prepare to enjoy it.

These “DISSUASIONS” are ascribed to the pen of a popular and amiable poet.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·17.

[520] Perennial Calendar, Dec. 2.

[521] These stanzas are very little more than an amplification of the well known lines of Lucretius,

_Suave mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis, E terrâ magnum alterius spectare laborem._

Cicero has expressed the same sentiment in his “De Natura;” see also lord Bacon and Rochefoucau amongst the moderns.

W. T. M

~December 3.~

1826. Advent Sunday.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 3rd of December, 1729, died at Paris, John Hardouin, a learned Jesuit, especially celebrated for his condemnation of the writings of almost all the Greek and Latin authors as forgeries in the middle ages. He supposed that all history, philosophy, science, and even divinity, before the middle of the XIVth century, had been forged in the abbies of Germany, France, and Italy, by a set of monks, who availed themselves of the taking of Constantinople by the French in 1203, its recovery by the Greeks 1261, and the expedition of St. Louis to the Holy Land, to make the world believe that the writings of the Greeks and Romans were then first discovered, and brought into the west: whereas they had been compiling them in their cells, and burying them in their libraries, for their successors to draw forth to light. Though he was ably refuted by Le Clerc and other distinguished writers, and recanted his opinions, in consequence of the superiors of his church proscribing his works, yet he repeated these absurd notions in subsequent publications.[522]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·62.

[522] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~December 4.~

THE WALKING POST.

In December, 1808, was living William Brockbank, whose daily pedestrian achievements occasioned public notice of him to the following effect. He was the Walking Post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of sixteen miles, which he performed every day, Sundays excepted; returned the same evening, and personally delivered the letters, newspapers, &c. in that populous and commercial country, to all near the road, which made his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards. What is more extraordinary, he

“This daily coarse of duty _walk’d_”

in less than twelve hours a day, and never varied a quarter of an hour from his usual time of arriving at Glossop.

Brockbank was a native of Millom, in Cumberland, and had daily walked the distance between Whitehaven and Ulverstone, frequently under the necessity of wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he constantly went, which is at least three miles round. Including the different calls he had to make at a short distance from the road, his daily task was not less than forty-seven miles.[523]

THE WEATHER.

Now is the time when, in some parts of England, a person of great note formerly, in every populous place, was accustomed to make frequent nocturnal rambles, and proclaim all tidings which it seemed fitting to him that people should be awakened out of their sleep to harken to. For the use of this personage, “the Bell-man,” there is a book, now almost obsolete as regards its use, with this title explanatory of its purpose,--“The Bell-man’s Treasury, containing above a Hundred several Verses fitted for all Humours and Fancies, and suited to all times and seasons.” London, 1707, 8vo. From the riches of this “treasury,” whence the predecessors of the present parish Bell-man took so much, a little may be extracted for the reader’s information. First then, if the noisy rogue were thereunto moved by a good and valuable consideration, we find, according to the aforesaid work, and the present season, that we ought to be informed, by sound of bell, and public proclamation,

_Upon a Windy Night._

Now ships are tost upon the angry main, And Boreas boasts his uncontrolled reign: The strongest winds their breath and vigour prove, And through the air th’ increasing murmurs shove. Think, you that sleep secure between the sheets, What skies your _Bell-man_ tempts, what dangers meets.

Then, again, according to the book of forms, he is instructed to agitate us with the following

_Upon a Star-light Night._

Were I a conjurer, such nights as these I’d choose to calculate nativities; For every star to that degree prevails, One might e’en count, and then turn up their tails. This night will _Flamstead_, and the _Moorfields’_ fry Such knowledge gain, they’ll seldom tell a lye.

As an amplification of the common cry of watchmen, may be produced the ancient Bell-man’s.

_Upon a Night of all Weathers._

This night, so different is the changing _weather_, Boisterous or calm, I cannot tell you whether ’Tis either fair or foul; but, altogether, Just as to cry a star-light night I study, Immediately the air grows dark and cloudy: In short, the temper of the skies, if _any_, Is _all_, and nature makes a _miscellany_.

MEN IN THE MOON.

A few years ago, professor Gruithausen, of Munich, wrote an essay to show that there are many plain indications of inhabitants in the moon. In answer to certain questions, the “Munich Gazette” communicates some remarkable results, derived from a great number of observations--

1. In what latitude in the moon are there indications of vegetation?

2. How far are there indications of animated beings?

3. Where are the greatest and plainest traces of art on the surface of the moon?

With respect to the first question, it appears from the observations of Schroter and Gruithausen, that the vegetation on the moon’s surface extends to fifty-five south latitude, and sixty-five north latitude. Many hundred observations show, in the different colours and monthly changes, three kinds of phenomena which cannot possibly be explained, except by the process of vegetation.

To the second question it is answered, that the indications from which the existence of living beings is inferred, are found from fifty north latitude, to thirty-seven, and perhaps forty-seven, south latitude.

The answer to the third question, points out the places on the moon’s surface in which are appearances of artificial causes altering the surface. The author examines the appearances that induce him to infer that there are artificial roads in various directions; and he describes a colossal edifice, resembling our cities, on the most fertile part near the moon’s equator, standing accurately according to the four cardinal points. The main cities are in angles of forty-five degrees and ninety degrees. A building resembling what is called a star-redoubt, the professor presumes to be dedicated to religious purposes, and as they can see no stars in the daytime (their atmosphere being so pure) he thinks that they worship the stars, and consider the earth as a natural clock. His essay is accompanied by plates.

* * * * *

The sombre sadness of the evening shades Steal slowly o’er the wild sequester’d glen, And seem to make its loneliness more lonely-- In ages past, nature was here convuls’d, And, with a sudden and terrific crash, Asunder rent the adamantine hills-- Now, as exhausted with the pond’rous work, She lies extended in a deathful trance-- The mountains form her couch magnificent; Heaven’s glittering arch her canopy; The snows made paler by the rising moon, Her gorgeous winding sheet; and the dark rocks That cast deep shadows on the expanse below, The sable ’scutcheon of the mighty dead-- The roar of waters, and the north wind’s moan Give music meet for her funereal dirge.

Yon giant crag, the offspring of her throes, Has rear’d his towering bulk a thousand years, Grown hoary in the war of elements, And still defies the thunder, and the storm But in his summer pride, his stately form Is mantled o’er with purple, green, and gold, And his huge head is garlanded with flowers.

PENNY LOTTERIES AT BROUGH, WESTMORELAND.

About this time, when gardens look in a dormant state, there are frequently Penny Lotteries in the north of England; and very often a whole garden is purchased for one penny. There are sometimes twenty tickets or more, as the case may be, all written on them “blank,” save “_the prize_.” These are put into a hat, and a boy stands on a form or chair holding the hat on his head, while those who have bought a ticket ascend the form alternately, “one by one,” and, shutting their eyes, take a ticket, which is opened by a boy who is at the bottom for that purpose. The tickets are only a penny each, and sometimes a garden (worth a few shillings) or whatever the sale may be, is bought for so trifling a sum.

W. H. H.

* * * * *

_For the Every-Day Book._

SONNET TO WINTER.

WINTER! though all thy hours are drear and chill, Yet hast thou one that welcome is to me Ah! ’tis when daylight fades, and noise ’gins still, And we afar can faintly darkness see;[524] When, as it seems too soon to shut out day And thought, with the intrusive taper’s ray, We trim the fire, the half-read book resign, And in our easy chairs at ease recline, Gaze on the deepening sky, in thoughtful fit Clinging to light, as loath to part with it Then, half asleep, life seems to us a dream,-- And magic, all the antic shapes, that gleam Upon the walls, by the fire’s flickerings made; And, oft we start, surpris’d but not dismay’d. Ah! when life fades, and death’s dark hour draws near, May we as timely muse, and be as void of fear!

W. T. M.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·90.

[523] Sporting Magazine.

[524] Darkness visible.--_Milton._

~December 5.~

ST. NICHOLAS’ EVE.

The versifier of ancient customs, Naogeorgus, relates through the English of his translator, Barnaby Googe, a curious practice on the vigil of this festival:--

Saint Nicholas money usde to give to maydens secretlie, Who, that he still may use his woonted liberalitie, The mothers all their children on the Eeve doe cause to fast, And when they every one at night in senselesse sleepe are cast, Both Apples, Nuttes, and Peares they bring, and other things beside, As caps, and shooes, and petticotes, which secretly they hide, And in the morning found, they say, that this saint Nicholas brought: Thus tender mindes to worship saints and wicked things are taught.

A festival or ceremony called Zopata, from a Spanish word signifying a shoe, prevails in Italy in the courts of certain princes on St. Nicholas’ day. Persons hide presents in the shoes and slippers of those they do honour to, in such manner as may surprise them on the morrow when they come to dress. This is said to be done in imitation of the practice of St. Nicholas, who used in the night time to throw purses in at the windows of poor maids, for their marriage portions.[525]

Mr. Brady says, that “St. Nicholas was likewise venerated as the protector of virgins; and that there are, or were until lately, numerous fantastical customs observed in Italy and various parts of France, in reference to that peculiar tutelary patronage. In several convents it was customary, on the eve of St. Nicholas, for the _boarder_ to place each a silk stocking at the door of the apartment of the abbess, with a piece of paper enclosed, recommending themselves to ‘_great St. Nicholas of her chamber_:’ and the next day they were called together to witness the saint’s attention, who never failed to fill the stockings with sweetmeats, and other trifles of that kind, with which these credulous virgins made a general feast.”[526]

PIG-ALLS.

A correspondent remarks, that it is now customary for boys to take their pigs by the hedgeways in the country to feed upon the ‘haws,’ which in the west are called _pegalls_, or _pigalls_. The boys go foremost with long poles, and beat the hedges, while the swine, after hearing where they fall, work most industriously for their provender till dusk, when they are driven home till daylight.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 40·70.

[525] Brand.

[526] Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.

~December 6.~

ST. NICHOLAS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--In your fiftieth number, p. 1566, under the head

“St. Nicholas in Russia,”

you give a very correct account of the festivities which usually enliven the 5th December in _Holland_, but not a word of _Russia_. It appears you have mistaken the situation of Leeuwarden, which is not a Russian, but a Dutch town. Friesland was one of the Seven United Provinces. Perhaps you may think it worth while to correct this error.

N. N.

_December 18, 1825._

* * * * *

“At the Est ende of the Chirche of Bethlem ys a cave in the grounde wher sumtyme stod a Chirche of Seynt Nicholas. In the same cave entred ower blyssid lady with hyr Sone, and hyd hyr for ffer of Kyng Herrod. The gronde ys good for Norces that lake mylk for ther Childern.”[527]

* * * * *

On the 6th of December 1826 _The Times_ newspaper contained the subjoined article:--

_M. BOCHSA._

The following is an extract from the _French Moniteur_ of Thursday, February 19, 1818:--

COURT OF ASSIZE AT PARIS.

SITTING OF FEB. 17.

CASE OF THE COMPOSER BOCHSA.

The Court condemned, in contumacy, Nicholas Bochsa, composer of music and harp-player, whose disappearance about a year ago, it will be recollected, made so scandalous a noise. He was accused--

1. Of having, on the 26th of last September, committed the crime of private forgery, by counterfeiting, or causing to be counterfeited, a bond for four thousand francs, and by signing it with the forged signatures, Berton, Mehul, Nicolo, and Boyeldieu.

2. Of having, on the 13th of October, 1816, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting a resolution and receipt of the committee of the shareholders of the theatre Feydeau, and by signing them with the forged signature Rezicourt.

3. Of having, on the 20th of January, 1817, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting a resolution of the shareholders of the theatre Feydeau, with the same forged signature.

4. Of having, on the 1st of March, 1817, committed a commercial forgery, by fabricating a bill of exchange for 16,500 francs, and signing it with the forged signatures, Despermont, Perregaux, Lafitte and Company, and Berton.

5. Of having, on the 9th of March, 1817, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting an invoice of musical instruments, and a bond for 14,000 francs, and signing them with the forged signature of Pozzo di Borgo.

6. Of having, on the 11th of March, 1817, committed the crime of private forgery, by fabricating three bonds for different sums, and signing them with the forged signatures, Count Chabrol, and Finquerlin.

7. Of having, on the 11th of March, 1817, committed a private forgery, by fabricating two bonds, one for 10,000 francs, the other for 5,000 francs, upon the funds of the English legation, and by signing them with the forged signatures, Stuart, Amaury, and Wells.

8. Of having knowingly made use of all these forged documents.

Besides these forgeries, Bochsa appears to have fabricated many others,

## particularly bonds bearing the forged signatures of M. le Comte De

Cazes, and of Lord Wellington.

The Court pronounced him guilty of all these private and commercial forgeries, and condemned him to twelve years of forced labour, to be branded with the letters T. F., to be fined 4,000 francs, &c.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 41·10.

THE BOY BISHOP.

In addition to the particulars respecting the institution of a child to “the office and work of a bishop,” in the Romish church, on St. Nicholas’s day, the following is extracted from the English annals.--“The Boy bishop, or St. Nicholas, was commonly one of the choristers, and therefore in the old offices was called _Episcopus Choristarum, Bishop of the Choristers_, and was chosen by the rest to this honour. But afterward there were many St. Nicholases: and every parish, almost, had its St. Nicholas. And from this St. Nicolas’s day to Innocents’ day at night, this boy bore the name of a bishop, and the state and habit too, wearing the mitre and the pastoral staff, and the rest of the pontifical attire; nay, and reading the holy offices. While he went his procession, he was much feasted and treated by the people, as it seems, much valuing his blessing; which made the people so fond of keeping this holyday.”[528]

It appears from the register of the capitulary acts of York cathedral, that the Boy Bishop there was to be handsome and elegantly shaped.[529]

[Illustration: ~Henry Jenkins--Older than Old Parr.~]

He lived longer than men who were stronger, And was too old to live any longer.

On the 6th of December, 1670, died Henry Jenkins, aged one hundred and sixty-nine years.

Jenkins was born at Bolton-upon-Swale in 1500, and followed the employment of fishing for one hundred and forty years. When about eleven or twelve years old, he was sent to Northallerton, with a horse-load of arrows for the battle of Flodden-field, with which a bigger boy (all the men being employed at harvest) went forward to the army under the earl of Surrey; king Henry VIII. being at Tournay. When he was more than a hundred years old, he used to swim across the river with the greatest ease, and without catching cold. Being summoned to a tithe cause at York, in 1667, between the vicar of Catterick and William and Peter Mawbank, he deposed, that the tithes of wool, lamb, &c. were the vicar’s, and had been paid, to his knowledge, one hundred and twenty years and more. And in another cause, between Mr. Hawes and Mr. Wastel of Ellerton, he gave evidence to one hundred and twenty years. Being born before parish registers were kept, which did not come into use till the thirtieth of Henry VIII., one of the judges asked him what memorable battle or event had happened in his memory; to which he answered, “that when the battle of Flodden-field was fought, where the Scots were beat, with the death of their king, he was turned of twelve years of age.” Being asked how he lived, he said, “by thatching and salmon fishing;” that when he was served with a subpœna, he was thatching a house, and would dub a hook with any man in Yorkshire; that he had been butler to lord Conyers, of Hornby-castle, and that Marmaduke Brodelay, lord abbot of Fountains, did frequently visit his lord, and drink a hearty glass with him; that his lord often sent him to inquire how the abbot did, who always sent for him to his lodgings, and, after ceremonies, as he called it, passed, ordered him, besides wassel, a quarter of a yard of roast-beef for his dinner, (for that monasteries did deliver their guests meat by measure,) and a great black jack of strong drink. Being further asked, if he remembered the dissolution of religious houses, he said, “Very well; and that he was between thirty and forty years of age when the order came to dissolve those in Yorkshire; that great lamentation was made, and the country all in a tumult, when the monks were turned out.”

In the same parish with Jenkins, there were four or five persons reputed a century old, who all said he was an elderly man ever since they knew him. Jenkins had sworn in Chancery and other courts to above a hundred and forty years’ memory. In the king’s remembrancer’s office, in the exchequer, is a record of a deposition taken, 1665, at Kettering, in Yorkshire, in a cause “Clark and Smirkson,” wherein Henry Jenkins, of Ellerton-upon-Swale, labourer, aged 157 years, was produced and sworn as a witness. His diet was coarse and sour; towards the latter end of his days he begged up and down.

Born when the Roman catholic religion was established, Jenkins saw the supremacy of the pope overturned; the dissolution of monasteries, popery re-established, and at last the protestant religion securely fixed on a rock of adamant. In his time the invincible armada was destroyed; the republic of Holland was formed; three queens were beheaded, Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Mary queen of Scots; a king of Spain was seated upon the throne of England; a king of Scotland was crowned king of England at Westminster, and his son and successor was beheaded before his own palace; lastly, the great fire in London happened in 1666, at the latter end of his wonderfully long life.

Jenkins could neither read nor write. He died at Ellerton-upon-Swale, and was buried in Bolton church-yard, near Catterick and Richmond, in Yorkshire, where a small pillar was erected to his memory, and this epitaph, composed by Dr. Thomas Chapman, master of Magdalen-college, Cambridge, from 1746 to 1760, engraven upon a monument in Bolton church.

INSCRIPTION.

Blush not, MARBLE! To rescue from oblivion The Memory of HENRY JENKINS; A person obscure in birth, But of a life truly memorable: For, He was enriched With the goods of Nature If not of Fortune; And happy In the duration, If not variety, Of his enjoyments: And, tho’ the partial world Despised and disregarded His low and humble state, The equal eye of Providence Beheld and blessed it, With a patriarch’s health, and length of days: To teach mistaken man, These blessings Were intail’d on temperance, A life of labour, and a mind at ease. He liv’d to the amazing age of 169, Was interr’d here _December_ 6th, 1670; And had this justice done to his memory 1743.[530]

There is a large half sheet portrait of Henry Jenkins, etched by Worlidge, (after an original painting by Walker,) from whence the present engraving is copied, and there is a mezzotinto of him after the same etching.

[527] From the MS. Diary of sir Richard Torkington, quoted in Mr. Fosbroke’s “British Monachism,”   51, from the “Gentleman’s Magazine” 1812.

[528] Strype’s “Memorials.”

[529] Brand.

[530] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1814. Inscription beneath Worlidge’s print.

~December 7.~

OLD SIGHTS OF LONDON.

In December, 1751, the following “Uncommon Natural Curiosities” were exhibited in London.

1. A _Dwarf_, from Glamorganshire, in his fifteenth year, two feet six inches high, weighing only twelve pounds, yet very proportionable.

2. _John Coan_, a Norfolk dwarf, aged twenty-three; he weighed, with all his clothes, but thirty-four pounds, and his height, with his hat, shoes, and wig on, was but thirty-eight inches; his body was perfectly straight, he was of a good complexion, and sprightly temper, sung tolerably, and mimicked a cock’s crowing very exactly. A child three years eight months old, of an ordinary size, with his clothes on, weighed thirty-six pounds, and his height, without any thing on his head, was thirty-seven inches seven-tenths, which on comparison gives an idea of the smallness of this dwarf.

3. A _Negro_, who by a most extraordinary and singular dilatation and contraction of the deltoid and biceps muscles of the arm, those of the back, &c., clasped his hands full together, threw them over his head and back, and brought them in that position under his feet. This he repeated, backwards or forwards, as often as the spectators desired, with the greatest facility.

4. A _Female Rhinoceros_, or true Unicorn, a beast of upwards of eight thousand pounds weight, in a natural coat of mail or armour, having a large horn on her nose, three hoofs on each foot, and a hide stuck thick with scales pistol proof, and so surprisingly folded as not to hinder its motion.

5. A _Crocodile_, _alive_, taken on the banks of the Nile in Egypt, a creature _never seen before alive in England_.[531]

This is a verbatim account of these sights published at the time; the prices of admission are not mentioned, but they were deemed worthy of notice as remarkable exhibitions at the period. In the present day the whole of them would scarcely make more than a twopenny show; and, at that low rate, without a captivating showman, they would scarcely attract. London streets are now literally “strewed with rarities,” and “uncommon things,” at which our forefathers stared with wonder, are most common.

A PARTICULAR ARTICLE.

“A READER,” at p. 1584, should have had “Lyneham, Wilts,” as the place of his residence, attached to his remarks on an account of “Clack Fall Fair,” at p. 1371, which was supplied by “an old correspondent,” with whose name and address the editor is acquainted, and whose subjoined communication claims regard. He writes in explanation, and adds some very pleasant particulars.

CLACK FALL FAIR.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Dear Sir,--I cannot allow your pages to close without replying to the “Corrections and Illustrations,” p. 1584, made by “A Reader” respecting “Clack and its vicinity.”

_First._ I observe that Bradenstoke priory is usually called the “Abbey,” in the neighbourhood,--not the “Priory.” There is a tree growing upon the tower, and a legend respecting it. I was once taken up to see it blossom, having slept in the room under it with my schoolfellow, John Bridges, whose mother, at that time a widow, kept the farm, and a most excellent woman she was.

_Secondly._ I should have considered the stating, “that a carpenter, while digging, struck his spade against an image of gold, and has it in his possession,” was sufficient, without further inquiry or remark. I repeat the fact for a truth. I _know_ the _man_, and have _seen_ the IMAGE. As an antiquary myself, I assure you, sir, I could fain dig for similar hidden treasures in the hope of like reward. The person who owns the image is not needy, he therefore would not part with his weight of gold for more sovereign current weight.

_Thirdly._ When young, I descended several feet into the “subterraneous passage” referred to by your “Reader.” Though I am willing to admit the possibility of monkish imposition--such a passage has, however, been believed to have existed by the oldest people of Clack. Similarly, it is conjectured, that a passage once ran from Canonbury-tower, Islington, to the palace Kensington. Your “Reader” is rather too sceptical to challenge me to a proof, which I take only in a topographical sense. Of whatever effect tradition may be, much historical truth is notwithstanding embodied in it: furthermore, it is well known, that subterraneous passages led from place to place, when castle building was in vogue.

_Fourthly._ The oldest man living in Seagry, at the time I was shown the stone in Malmsbury abbey, whose name was Carey, was the occasion of my going to that place to see the stone: I paid sixpence to the person who gave me a view of it. He represented it to have been done by “Geoffry Miles”--the boy was a choirister: this is his information, not mine. The impression ever after guarded my conduct in school.

_Fifthly._ As to “Joe Ody,” your “Reader’s” own words prove the truth of what I have said of him, and the “_may be correct_” is not called for. The lord chancellor could not have been more doubtful than your anonymous “Reader,” as to my information and communication. Some of the Ody family are now residing in Camberwell, whither your “Reader” may resort, should he be desirous of learning more of Joe’s merry-andrewism, who was no mean disciple of the rev. Andrew, his patron.

_Sixthly._ Your “Reader’s” hit at “Bowles” is corrected by me at the page in which his reference stands. Would that the “Bowles’ controversy” with Byron and Roscoe, respecting Pope, had been as easily terminated, and with as little acrimony and as much satisfaction!

_Seventhly._ The room I have already occupied in this paper prevents my stating much concerning “Clack Mount;”--this mount is, however, remarkable for two things,--the resort of bonfire makers, November 5, and the club at Whitsuntide. At the time of the _ox-roasting_ many years since, in peaceful-ending times and rejoicing, this “mount” was a scene of delight and festivity. A band of music resorted thither, a line was formed as on club-day, beer was given round, and the collected people of both sexes, young and old, joined in the hilarious jubilee; after which the band, graced by every pretty girl, paraded to the priory, and played there in the best room. Its furniture, I remember, looked clubbed, dark, and glossy; it seemed, to me, a pity to tread on the shining floor, it was so antiquely neat and sacred. Given to kissing, when very young, I shall never forget touching the rosy cheeks of Miss Polly Bridges behind the awful door of the sacristy, at which theft I was caught by her laughing mother;--I beg to apologise to your “Reader,” sir, for this (digression) _confession_, but as my ancestors came from the priory, and _Christmas_ being near, I trust he will _pardon_ me, as Polly’s mother gave me _absolution_. On this ox-roasting occasion, Clack seemed really rising out of the stones. Dancing, music, holyday, and mirth, pervaded every house; and, very unusual, every poor person that brought a plate for the portion of slices of sheep, roasted opposite at baker Hendon’s, pretended to have _more_ children than there were at home; some families imposed on the cook by two and three applications.--Who does not recollect the ox and sheep roasting? I can hardly resist a description of the many scenes I witnessed several days successively in the various villages--of the many happy hearts, and their intimate enjoyments. I could almost follow the example of “Elia” himself, and at once be jocose, classical, and fastidious. But mercy on your readers’ patience denies me the pleasure.

Therefore, _Lastly_, “The Maypole.” It was standing, fifteen feet high, thirty-six years ago. The higher part was cut off at the request of Madam Heath, before whose house, and the Trooper, it stood. I once myself saw the “morris-dance” round it, when cowslips, oxlips, and other flowers were suspended up and down it: nails were driven round the lower part to prevent a further incision. Unfortunately for the writer, the land which lies from “Clack to Barry-end,” a distance less than two miles, once belonged to my forefathers. Maud Heath, who caused a _causeway_ to be made and kept in order to this day, from Callaway’s-bridge to Chippenham, was one of my collaterals.

Thanking you, sir, for your indulgence, and a “Reader” for his giving me an opportunity of illustrating his positions,

I am,

truly yours,

AN OLD CORRESPONDENT.

_Dec. 11, 1826._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·82.

[531] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~December 8.~

CONCEPTION B. V. M.

This day is so marked in the church of England calendar and almanacs. It is the Romish festival of “_The Immaculate Conception of the Holy Virgin_,” whom that church states to have been conceived and born without original sin. A doctrine whereon more has been written, perhaps, than any other point of ecclesiastical controversy. One author, Peter D’Alva, has published forty-eight folios on the mysteries of the Conception.

The immaculate conception and happy nativity of the Virgin are maintained to have taken place at Loretto, about 150 miles from Rome; and further, that at that particular place, “hallowed by her birth,” she was saluted by the angel Gabriel, and that she there nurtured our Saviour until he was twelve years of age. The popular belief readily yielding to that which power dictated, Loretto became one of the richest places in the world, from the numerous pilgrimages and votive presents made to the “_Sancta Casa_,” or “Holy House,” to enclose which, a magnificent church was erected and dedicated to the Virgin, hence generally styled “our Lady of Loretto.”

Peter the Lombard originally started the mystery of the immaculate conception in the year 1060; though Baronius affirms, that it was “discovered by Revelation” in the year 1109, to one, (but his name is not recorded,) “who was a great lover of the Virgin, and daily read her office.” On the day he was to be married, however, he was “so much occupied,” that this usual piece of devotion escaped his attention until he was in “the nuptial office,” when, suddenly recollecting the omission, he sent his bride and all the company home while he performed it. During this pious duty, the Virgin appeared to him with her son in her arms, and reproached him for his neglect, affording, however, the glorious hope of salvation, if he would “quit his wife and consider himself espoused to her,” declaring to him the whole of the circumstances of her nativity, which he reported to the pope, who naturally caused her feast immediately to be instituted.

The canons of Lyons attempted to establish an office for this mystery in the year 1136, but Bernard opposed it. The council at Oxford, in 1222, left people at liberty either to observe the day or not. Sixtus IV., however, in the year 1476, ordered it to be generally held in commemoration, although the alleged circumstances attendant upon this immaculate conception are not, even in the church of Rome, held as an article of faith, but merely reckoned a “pious opinion.” The council of Trent confirmed the ordinances of Sixtus, but without condemning as heretics those who refused to observe it; and Alexander V. issued his bull, even commanding that there should not be any discussion upon such an intricate subject. The Spaniards, however, were so strenuous in their belief of this mystery, that from the year 1652, the knights of the military orders of St. James of the sword, Calatrava, and Alcantara, each made a vow at their admission to “defend” the doctrine.

In the popish countries, the Virgin is still the principal favourite of devotion, and is addressed by her devotees under the following, from among many other titles, ill suiting with the reformed sentiments of this country.

_Empress of Heaven!_

_Queen of Heaven!_

_Empress of Angels!_

_Queen of Angels!_

_Empress of the Earth!_

_Queen of the Earth!_

_Lady of the Universe!_

_Lady of the World!_

_Mistress of the World!_

_Patroness of the Men!_

_Advocate for Sinners!_

_Mediatrix!_

_Gate of Paradise!_

_Mother of Mercies!_

_Goddess! and_

_The only Hope of Sinners!_

Under the two latter, they implore the Virgin for salvation by the power which, as a mother, she is inferred to possess of “commanding her son!” The legends afford tales in support of the opinion, that she not only possesses, but actually exerts such authorities.--“O Mary,” says St. Bonaventure, “be a man never so wicked and miserable a sinner, you have the soft compassion of a mother for him, and never leave him until you have reconciled him to his judge.” One instance of which peculiar protection of sinners is recorded from father Crassett, who with much solemnity states, that “a soldier, hardened by his occupation, had not only renounced Christ, but given himself up wholly to the devil and the most vicious courses, though, as he did not also renounce the Virgin, he in a time of much necessity fervently prayed for her intercession.” This application, he adds, “was instantly attended to, and the man heard the benevolent mother of our Lord desire her son to have mercy upon him; who, not to refuse his parent, answered, he would do it for her sake, notwithstanding he had himself been wholly forgotten and unnoticed.”

The first who was particularly noticed as introducing this worship of the Virgin, is Peter Gnapheus, bishop of Antioch, in the fifth century, who appointed her name to be called upon in the prayers of the church. It is said that Peter Fullo, a monk of Constantinople, introduced the name of the Virgin Mary in the public prayers about the year 480; but it is certain, she was not generally invoked in public until a long time after that period.[532]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·22.

[532] Mr. Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.

~December 9.~

JEWISH MARRIAGE CEREMONY.

On the 9th of December, 1809, the following cause was tried in the court of King’s-bench, Guildhall, London, before lord Ellenborough and a special jury.

_Holme_ and others v. _Noah_.

Mr. Garrow stated this to be an action upon a bill of exchange for a small sum of money for coals, which the plaintiffs, who were coal-merchants, had furnished to the defendant, who was an ingenious lady, employing herself in drawing pictures. The bill, when due, had not been honoured.

Mr. Park, in defence to the action, maintained, that the defendant was a married woman, and said he held an excellent treatise in his hand, called “_Uxor Hebreiaca_,” from whence he cited in behalf of his client, who was a Jewess, whose husband was alive.

Mr. Philips, reader of the Synagogue of the Jews in Leadenhall-street, proved the marriage to have taken place in the year 1781; he was present at it. The proper priest, now dead, officiated in the usual form and solemnity, and these parties were duly united in lawful marriage, according to the Mosaic form. He was one of the attesting witnesses of the entry of the marriage in the book of the priest.

Mr. Levi proved that he knew the husband and wife; was present at the marriage, he being then only thirteen.

Jos. Abidigore, a teacher of the Hebrew language, read in English the entry in the priest’s book of this marriage; the ceremony was executed by the priest. The entry in English was thus:

“Fourth day of the week, in the second month Neron, in the year 5541 after the creation of the world, according to the reckoning here in London. Henry Noel said to Emily--“Become thou a wife unto me, according to the law of Moses, and I will ever after maintain thee according to the rites of the Jews;” and the priest said, “I heard him account her wife, and she shall bring to him the dowry of her virginity according to the law, and she shall remain and cohabit with him.” To which the lady did consent and become unto him his wife, and she offered him presents consisting of silver and gold, and splendid ornaments of gold, and 100 pieces of fine silver; and the bridegroom accepted these presents of the bride, and brought also 100 pieces of the like gold, ornaments, and fine silver; the whole amounting together to 200 pieces of gold and fine silver; and the bridegroom doth take all the responsibility of the care of all for himself, for his bride, and for their children. And their maintenance to be had out of the property which he doth possess, under this solemn union.”

_Lord Ellenborough._--This marriage being proved to be duly had according to the solemnities of the Mosaic law, the plaintiffs must be called.--_Plaintiffs non-suited._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·85.

~December 10.~

A WELSH BAPTISM.

_For the Every-Day Book._

On the 10th of December, 1813, in passing through the small village of Llangemuch, in Carmarthenshire, I observed several of the villagers assembled round the door and windows of one of the cottages, and heard within the loud tones of what proved to be one of their preachers. I entered, and found them employed in the baptism of a child. The font was a pint basin, placed on a small plate; the humble table was covered with a clean napkin. The minister, a brawny, round-shouldered young man, with deep-cut features and overhanging brows, his eyes closed, and his body moving in every direction, roared out in the most discordant and deafening din; his voice then suddenly fell--then rose, and fell again, with most surprising, but most inharmonious modulation. The child he then proceeded to _cross_, “in the name, &c.,” the whole being in the Welsh language: the name of the child (Henry) was the only English sound which caught my ear. Next followed, what appeared to me, an address to the parents. The scene was picturesque. The cottage rude, and but half illumined by the dim light--the vehement contortions of the preacher--the mother and the child, with several young women, whose cheeks were as ruddy as the Welsh cloaks with which they were _adorned_, sitting beside the fire--the father, in his countenance a mixture of rudeness and of puritanism, leaning against the wall in an attitude of the profoundest attention--two or three old women coughing and groaning around the preacher--some labourers standing in a group, in a dark corner, scarcely discernible--and the chubby children, half wishing, but not daring, to continue their sports: these, and the other features of this unstudied scene, would have formed an admirable subject for the pencil of a Wilkie. At length the preacher approached to a conclusion, and wound up his address in a peroration, distinguished by increased energy of manner, by more hideous faces, by accelerated motions of his limbs, and by louder vociferation. He suddenly sat down: the religious part of the ceremony was over, and I was invited to partake of the rustic fare which had been provided for the occasion.

J. D.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·90.

~December 11.~

THE FEMALE CHARACTER.

Ledyard, the traveller, who died at Cairo in 1788, on his way to accomplish the task of traversing the widest part of the continent of Africa from east to west, in the supposed latitude of the Niger, pays a just and handsome tribute to the kind affections of the sex.

“I have always observed,” says Ledyard, “that women, in all countries, are civil and obliging, tender and humane; that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest; and that they do not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action. Not haughty, not arrogant, not supercilious, they are full of courtesy, and fond of society; more liable, in general, to err than man, but, in general, also more virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. To a woman, whether civilized or savage, I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar; if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so: and to add to this virtue, (so worthy the appellation of benevolence,) these

## actions have been performed in so free and so kind a manner, that, if I

was dry, I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry, I ate the coarse morsel with a double relish.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·20

~December 12.~

NATIONAL SONG.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--I perceive in page 539 of the present volume, you have inserted the national song of “God save the King,” in the Welsh language, as translated by the able and learned Dr. W. O. Pughe, perhaps the following version of the same in the _Gaelic_ language, or that spoken by the Highlanders of Scotland, may prove acceptable to many readers.

O Dhia! cum suas, ard Dheors’ ar Righ, Gleidh fad ’a slan an Righ, Dhia tearn án Righ. Cuir buaidh, air a shluagh ’sa chath, Dion iad, fo d’ sgiath ’s mhagh Gu’m fad a riaghlis é gu maith, Dhia sabhal an Righ.

O Dhia! le d’ sgiath dion da shliochd, Gun choirp ’s gun chunart am feasd, Crun ’oirdearg na Righachd. Thoir dha, thar uile namhid, buaidh, Air tir agus, air a chuan, ’S gliocas mòr an fheum uair, Dhia bean’ichdo shluagh an Righ.

Bithidh ait’n diugh thar tir na ’n tònn, Aoibhneas, aighar, ceol’s fònn, Air son deugh shlaint ’an Righ. Deich agus da fhichid bliadhna Le cumhachd, onair agus cial, Lion è caithir alba na buaidh, Buanich O Dhia! sa’ ol an Righ.

Among the translations of Dr. Owen Pughe, his version of “_Non nobis Domine_” is excellent. I subjoin it, that you may make what use of it you please.

O, nid i ni, ein Jor, o nid i ni, Ond deled i dy Enw ogoniant byth, Ond deled i dy Enw ogoniant byth.

GWILYM SAIS.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·05.

~December 13.~

_Lucy._[533]

ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH.

Be virtuous; govern your passions; restrain your appetites; avoid excess and high-seasoned food; eat slowly, and chew your food well. Do not eat to full satiety. Breakfast betimes; it is not wholesome to go out fasting. In winter, a glass or two of wine is an excellent preservative against unwholesome air. Make a hearty meal about noon, and eat plain meats only. Avoid salted meats: those who eat them often have pale complexions, a slow pulse, and are full of corrupted humours. Sup betimes, and sparingly. Let your meat be neither too little nor too much done. Sleep not till two hours after eating. Begin your meals with a little tea, and wash your mouth with a cup of it afterward.

The most important advice which can be given for maintaining the body in due temperament, is to be very moderate in the use of all the pleasures of sense; for all excess weakens the spirits. Walk not too long at once. Stand not for hours in one posture; nor lie longer than necessary. In winter, keep not yourself too hot; nor in summer too cold. Immediately after you awake, rub your breast where the heart lies, with the palm of your hand. Avoid a stream of wind as you would an arrow. Coming out of a warm bath, or after hard labour, do not expose your body to cold. If in the spring, there should be two or three hot days, do not be in haste to put off your winter clothes. It is unwholesome to fan yourself during perspiration. Wash your mouth with water or tea, lukewarm, before you go to rest, and rub the soles of your feet warm. When you lie down, banish all thought.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·57.

[533] See vol. i. 1570.

~December 14.~

IRISH LINEN.

In December, 1738, was shown at the Linen Hall, in Dublin, a piece of linen, accounted the finest ever made; there were 3800 threads in the breadth. The trustees of the linen manufacture set a value of forty guineas on the piece, which contained 23 yards. It was spun by a woman of Down. About two years before, Mr. Robert Kaine, at Lurgan, county of Ardmagh, sold 24 yards of superfine Irish linen, manufactured in that town, for 40_s._ per yard, to the countess of Antrim which occasioned the following lines:--

Would all the great such patterns buy, How swiftly would the shuttles fly, Cambray should cease, and Hamburgh too, To boast their art! since Lurgan! you May, like Arachne, dare to vie, With any spinning deity; Nay, tho’ Asbestos she should weave, Thou, Lurgan, should’st the prize receive.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·20.

~December 15.~

A LITERARY DISASTER.

On a certain day, the date of which is uncertain, in the month of December, 1730, the books and MSS. of Dr. Tanner, bishop of St. Asaph, being on their removal from Norwich to Christchurch college in Oxford, fell into and lay under water twenty hours, and received great damage. Among them were near 300 volumes of MSS. purchased of Mr. Bateman, a bookseller, who bought them of archbishop Sancroft’s nephew. There were in all seven cart loads.[534]

It may be recollected that bishop Tanner was the friend of Mr. Browne Willis, respecting whom an account has been inserted, with an original letter from that distinguished antiquary to the prelate when chancellor of Norwich.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean temperature 38·67.

[534] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~December 16.~

Cambridge Term ends.

O SAPIENTIA.

The meaning of this term in the calendar is in vol. i. 1571.

STORY-TELLING.

Is a diversion of necessity in winter, when we are confined by the weather, and must make entertainment in the house, because we cannot take pleasure in the open air. Though at any time we may like, yet now we _love_ to hear accounts of sayings and doings in former times; and, therefore, it seems that a description of an old house in the country, and an old and true story belonging to it, may be agreeable.

AN ANCIENT HALL.

Littlecotes-house, two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, stands in a low and lonely situation. On three sides it is surrounded by a park that spreads over the adjoining hill; on the fourth, by meadows, which are watered by the river Kennet. Close on one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came no longer to be an object in a country-mansion. Many circumstances in the interior of the house, however, seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accoutrements, that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak-table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood; and an appendage to one end of it, made it answer at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an arm-chair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door, in the front of the house, to a quadrangle within; at the other it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor, and passing the doors of some bed-chambers, enter a narrow gallery, which extends along the back front of the house from one end to the other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In one of the bed-chambers, which you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and threadbare; and in the bottom of one of the bed-curtains you are shown a place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again; a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story:--

It was a dark, rainy night in the month of November, that an old midwife sat musing by her cottage fire-side, when on a sudden she was startled by aloud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horseman, who told her that her assistance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded, but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and, therefore, she must submit to be blindfolded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bed-chamber of the lady. After proceeding in silence for many miles through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house, which, from the length of her walk through the apartment, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which were the lady, on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady gave birth to a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and, catching it from her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire, that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by its struggles rolled itself off upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and, in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own home; he then paid her handsomely, and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night; and she immediately made a deposition of the fact before a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been committed; one was, that the midwife, as she sat by the bed-side, had, with a view to discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sewn it in again; the other was, that as she had descended the staircase, she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecote-house and the domain around it. The house was examined, and identified by the midwife, and Darrell was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law; but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darrell’s hill: a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have overtaken on his way.[535]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·67.

[535] In Dr. Drake’s “Shakspeare and his Times,” from sir Walter Scott’s “Rokeby.”

~December 17.~

COUNTRY MANSIONS.

During the reign of Henry VIII., and even of Mary, they were, if we except their size, little better than cottages, being thatched buildings, covered on the outside with the coarsest clay, and lighted only by lattices. When Harrison wrote, in the age of Elizabeth, though the greater number of manor-houses still remained framed of timber, yet he observes, “such as be latelie builded, are com’onlie either of bricke or hard stone, or both; their roomes large and comelie, and houses of office further distant from their lodgings.” The old timber mansions, too, were then covered with the finest plaster, which, says the historian, “beside the delectable whitenesse of the stuffe itselfe, is laied on so even and smoothlie, as nothing in my judgment can be done with more exactnesse:” and at the same time, the windows, interior decorations, and furniture, were becoming greatly more useful and elegant. “Of old time our countrie houses,” continues Harrison, “instead of glasse did use much lattise, and that made either of wicker or fine rifts of oke in chekerwise. I read also that some of the better sort, in and before the time of the Saxons, did make panels of horne instead of glasse, and fix them in woodden calmes. But as horne in windows is now quite laid downe in everie place, so our lattises are also growne into lesse use, because glasse is come to be so plentifull, and within a verie little so good cheape if not better then the other. The wals of our houses on the inner sides in like sort be either hanged with tapisterie, arras worke, or painted cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots, and such like are stained, or else they are seeled with oke of our owne, or wainescot brought hither out of the east countries, whereby the roomes are not a little commanded, made warme, and much more close than otherwise they would be. As for stooves we have not hitherto used them greatlie, yet doo they now begin to be made in diverse houses of the gentrie. Like in the houses of knights, gentlemen, &c. it is not geson to behold generallie their great provision of Turkie worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and thereto costlie cupbords of plate, worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds, to be deemed by estimation.”

The house of every country-gentleman of property included a neat chapel and a spacious hall; and where the estate and establishment were considerable, the mansion was divided into two parts or sides, one for the state or banqueting-rooms, and the other for the household; but in general, the latter, except in baronial residences, was the only part to be met with, and when complete, had the addition of parlours; thus Bacon, in his Essay on Building, describing the household side of a mansion, says, “I wish it divided at the first into a hall, and a chappell, with a partition between, both of good state and bignesse; and those not to goe all the length, but to have, at the further end, a winter and a summer parler, both faire: and under these roomes a faire and large cellar, sunke under ground: and likewise, some privie kitchens, with butteries and pantries, and the like.” It was the custom also to have windows opening from the parlours and passages into the chapel, hall, and kitchen, with the view of overlooking or controlling what might be going on; a trait of vigilant caution, which may still be discovered in some of our ancient colleges and manor-houses.

The hall of the country squire was the usual scene of eating and hospitality, at the upper end of which was placed the orsille, or high table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of the mansion presided, with an authority, if not a state, which almost equalled that of the potent baron. The table was divided into upper and lower messes, by a huge saltcellar, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above and below the saltcellar; a custom which not only distinguished the relative dignity of the guests, but extended likewise to the nature of the provision, the wine frequently circulating only above the saltcellar, and the dishes below it being of a coarser kind than those near the head of the table.[536]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·50.

[536] Dr. Drake

~December 18.~

Oxford Term ends.

OLD ENGLISH LIVING.

The usual fare of country-gentlemen, relates Harrison, was “foure, five, or six dishes, when they have but small resort,” and accordingly, we find that Justice Shallow, when he invites Falstaffe to dinner, issues the following orders: “Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.” But on feast-days, and particularly on festivals, the profusion and cost of the table were astonishing. Harrison observes, that the country-gentlemen and merchants contemned butcher’s meat on such occasions, and vied with the nobility in the production of rare and delicate viands, of which he gives a long list; and Massinger says,

“Men may talk of country Christmasses, Their thirty-pound butter’d eggs, their pies of carp’s tongues, Their pheasants drench’d with ambergris, the carcasses Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to Make sauce for a single peacock; yet their feasts Were fasts, compared with the city’s.”

_City Madam_, act ii. sc. 1.

It was the custom in the houses of the country-gentlemen to retire after dinner, which generally took place about eleven in the morning, to the garden-bower, or an arbour in the orchard, in order to partake of the banquet or dessert; thus Shallow, addressing Falstaffe after dinner, exclaims, “Nay, you shall see mine orchard: where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and so forth.” From the banquet it was usual to retire to evening prayer, and thence to supper, between five and six o’clock; for, in Shakspeare’s time, there were seldom more than two meals--dinner and supper; “heretofore,” remarked Harrison, “there hath beene much more time spent in eating and drinking than commonlie is in these daies; for whereas of old we had breakfasts in the forenoone, beverages or nuntions after dinner, and thereto reare suppers generallie when it was time to go to rest. Now these od repasts, thanked be God, are verie well left, and ech one in manner (except here and there some yoonge hungrie stomach that cannot fast till dinner time) contenteth himselfe with dinner and supper onelie. The nobilitie, gentlemen, and merchantmen, especiallie at great meetings, doo sit commonlie till two or three of the clocke at afternoone, so that with manie it is an hard matter to rise from the table to go to evening praier, and returne from thence to come time enough to supper.”

The supper, which, on days of festivity, was often protracted to a late hour, and often, too, as substantial as the dinner, was succeeded, especially at Christmas, by gambols of various sorts; and sometimes the squire and his family would mingle in the amusements, or, retiring to the tapestried parlour, would leave the hall to the more boisterous mirth of their household; then would the blind harper, who sold his fit of mirth for a groat, be introduced, either to provoke the dance, or to rouse their wonder by his minstrelsy; his “matter being, for the most part, stories of old time,--as the tale of sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rimes, made purposely for recreation of the common people, at Christmas dinners and brideales.”

The posset, at bed-time, closed the joyous day--a custom to which Shakspeare has occasionally alluded: thus Lady Macbeth says of the “surfeited grooms,” “I have drugg’d their possets;” Mr. Quickly tells Rugby, “Go; and we’ll have a posset for’t soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire;” and Page, cheering Falstaffe, exclaims, “Thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house.” Thomas Heywood, a contemporary of Shakspeare, has particularly noticed this refection as occurring just before bed-time: “Thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a bag-pudding; and my daughter Nell shall pop a posset upon thee when thou goest to bed.”[537]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 39·35.

[537] Dr. Drake.

~December 19.~

AN UPSTART.

Bishop Earle says, “he is a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not the stuff of himself; for he bare the king’s sword before he had arms to wield it; yet, being once laid o’er the shoulder with a knighthood, he finds the herald his friend. His father was a man of good stock, though but a tanner or usurer: he purchased the land, and his son the title. He has doffed off the name of a country fellow, but the look not so easy; and his face still bears a relish of churne-milk. He is guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country, yet his body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house-keeping is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility, and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses. A justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right. He will be drunk with his hunters for company, and stain his gentility with droppings of ale. He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads the assize week as much as the prisoner. In sum, he’s but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the dunghill, and he the cock that crows over it; and commonly his race is quickly run, and his children’s children, though they scape hanging, return to the place from whence they came.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·40.

~December 20.~

Ember Week. See vol. i.

AN OLD ENGLISH SQUIRE.

Mr. Hastings, an old gentleman of ancient times in Dorsetshire, was low of stature, but strong and active, of a ruddy complexion, with flaxen hair. His clothes were always of green cloth, his house was of the old fashion; in the midst of a large park, well stocked with deer, rabbits, and fish-ponds. He had a long, narrow bowling-green in it; and used to play with round sand bowls. Here, too, he had a banqueting-room built, like a stand, in a large tree. He kept all sorts of hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow bones; and full of hawk-perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. The upper end of it was hung with fox-skins, of this and the last year’s killing. Here and there a pole-cat was intermixed; and hunters’ poles in great abundance. The parlour was a large room, completely furnished in the same style. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels. One or two of the great chairs had litters of cats in them, which were not to be disturbed. Of these, three or four always attended him at dinner; and a little white wand lay by his trencher, to defend it if they were too troublesome. In the windows, which were very large, lay his arrows, cross-bows, and other accoutrements. The corners of the room were filled with his best hunting and hawking poles. His oyster table stood at the lower end of the room, which was in constant use twice a day all the year round; for he never failed to eat oysters both at dinner and supper, with which the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him. At the upper end of the room stood a small table with a double desk; one side of which held a church bible, the other the book of martyrs. On different tables in the room lay hawks’ hoods, bells, old hats, with their crowns thrust in, full of pheasant eggs; tables, dice, cards, and store of tobacco pipes. At one end of this room was a door, which opened into a closet, where stood bottles of strong beer and wine; which never came out but in single glasses, which was the rule of the house; for he never exceeded himself, nor permitted others to exceed. Answering to this closet was a door into an old chapel, which had been long disused for devotion; but in the pulpit, as the safest place, was always to be found a cold chine of beef, a venison pasty, a gammon of bacon, or a great apple-pie, with thick crust well baked. His table cost him not much, though it was good to eat at. His sports supplied all but beef and mutton; except on Fridays, when he had the best of fish. He never wanted a London pudding, and he always sang it in with “My part lies therein-a.” He drank a glass or two of wine at meals; put sirup of gillyflowers into his sack; and had always a tun glass of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about with rosemary. He lived to be a hundred; and never lost his eye-sight, nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without help; and rode to the death of the stag, till he was past four-score.[538]

Anciently it was the custom with many country gentlemen to spend their Christmas in London.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·17.

[538] Dr. Drake; from Hutchins’s Dorsetshire.

~December 21.~

ST. THOMAS’S DAY.

Now is a busy day in London, for wardmotes are held in the city by the aldermen of every ward, “for the election of officers for the year ensuing;” and hence, in the social public rooms of the citizens, there is great debate this evening, on the merits of the common-council-men returned without opposition, or on the qualifications of candidates who contest the poll for two days longer. The “Lumber-Troop” muster strong at their head-quarters near Gough-square; the “codgers” enlighten each other and their pipes in Bride-lane; the “Counsellors under the Cauliflower” hold divided council, they know where; and the “free and easy Johns” are to night more free than easy. These societies are under currents that set in strong, and often turn the tide of an election in favour of some “good fellow,” who is good no where but in “sot’s-hole.”

And now the “gentlemen of the inquest,” chosen “at the church” in the morning, dine together as the first important duty of their office; and the re-elected ward-beadles are busy with the fresh chosen constables; and the watchmen are particularly civil to every “drunken gentleman” who happens to look like one of the new authorities. And now the bellman, who revives the history and poetry of his predecessors, will vociferate--

_On_ St. Thomas’s _Day_.

My masters all, this is St. _Thomas_’ Day, And Christmas now can’t be far off, you’ll say, But when you to the Ward-motes do repair, I hope such good men will be chosen there, As _constables_ for the ensuing year As will not grutch the _watchmen_ good strong beer.[539]

Or,

_Upon the Constables first going out._

The world by sin is so degenerate grown, Scarce can we strictly call our own, _our own_; But by the patronage your watch affords, The thief in vain shall ’tempt the tradesman’s hoards: Their nightly ease enjoys each happy pair, Secure as those who first in Eden were: When willing quires of angels, as they slept, O’er their soft slumbers watchful centry kept.[540]

DOLEING DAY.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Maidstone, 20th Dec. 1825._

Sir,--There is a custom prevalent in this neighbourhood, and without doubt at other places, to which I beg to call your attention. The subject to which I allude is the annual solicitation for charity on St. Thomas’s day. It has taken place here from time immemorial; consequently my object in writing is to request you will favour us in your instructive miscellany, with the origin of the custom, if possible. I shall relate a few instances of its prevalency which come within my own knowledge.

At Loose, near Maidstone, Mr. T. Charlton gives the poor of the parish certain quantities of wheat, apportioned to their families, in addition to which, his daughters give the widows a new flannel petticoat each; who, at the same time, go to the other respectable inhabitants of the place to solicit the usual donation, and it is not an uncommon thing for a family to get in this way six or seven shillings.

This custom is also prevalent at Linton, an adjoining parish; and I am informed that lord Cornwallis, who resides there, intends giving to the resident poor something very considerable. At Barming, C. Whittaker, esq. is provided with 100 loaves to distribute to the resident poor on this day, which to my own knowledge is annual on his part; they likewise go to the other respectable inhabitants, who also give their alms in the way they think best.

It may not be amiss to say, that the custom here is known by the name of “Doleing,” and the day is called “Doleing-day.”

If any of your correspondents, or yourself, can throw any light on this very ancient custom, I have no doubt but it will be very acceptable to your readers, and to none more than to

Your obliged friend,

W. W.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·17.

[539] Bellman’s Treasury, 1707.

[540] Ibid.

~December 22.~

CARD PLAYING.

As on this prevalent custom of the season there have been remarks, an anecdote from the Worcester Journal of 1760, before servants’ vails were abolished, and soon after the battle of Minden, may be added.

At a young lady’s rout there appeared a card hung to each of the candlesticks, with these words, “No card money, but you may speak to the drummer.” In a corner of a room stood the figure of a drummer on a box, with a hole in the top to receive money, and the figure held a paper in its hand containing a dialogue between John and Dick, two of the lady’s servants, wherein they mutually agreed, “Their wages being fully sufficient to defray all their reasonable demands, to dispose of the card money as a token of their regard to the Minden heroes; and, with their good young lady’s consent, appointed the drummer to be their receiver.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·37.

~December 23.~

THE CHRISTMAS DAYS.

_For the Every-Day Book._

Symptoms of the returning season of Christmas and its festivities are approaching; for the rustics are standing at the street-corners with boughs of clustering berry-holly with pointed leaves, glossy laurel, and the pink-eyed lauristina:--the cheesemonger perks a dandy sprig of evergreen in the centre of his half butter tub, and hangs the griskins and chines at his doorposts: the show of over-fed beasts is advertised, and graziers and come-up-to-town farmers, loiter here to see the prize-cattle and prizes adjudged to the best feeders: butchers begin to clear all obstructions, and whiten their shambles, and strew sawdust on the pavement, and in the avenues, to the scales and little countinghouse box in which sits the female accountant, “brisk as a bee” and full of the “Ready-reckoner:” fishmongers are no less active in showing the large eels and dainty fish, that are “fresh as a daisy” and cold as death: sprats arrive in abundance, and are cried up and down alleys and streets with wondrous competition: pew-openers now have leave of their churchwardens to buy quantum sufficit of yew, laurel, holly, and other evergreens to tie in bunches to the sconces and interior parts of churches: idle shopkeepers cannot be persuaded yet to clear the filth from their doors, thinking, perhaps, a temporary obstruction is a permanent attraction: watchmen now veer forth early at noon, with lanterns at their breasts, though it would be difficult to read the secrets deposited within: poulterers are early at market, and their shops are piled with poultry in a state of nudity and death: the undertaker is busy, like the tailor, with his work, and the charms of Christmas give temporary bustle to most classes of tradesmen: the green-grocer is decorating his half-glazed windows with his best fruits and most attractive edibles, which are served as luxuries rather than generous enjoyments; and his sly daughter takes care a certain branch of the business shall not be forgotten--I allude to

_The Mistletoe._

Sweet emblem of returning peace, The heart’s full gush, and love’s release; Spirits in human fondness flow And greet the pearly _Mistletoe_.

Many a maiden’s cheek is red By lips and laughter thither led; And flutt’ring bosoms come and go Under the druid _Mistletoe_.

Dear is the memory of a theft When love and youth and joy are left;-- The passion’s blush, the roses glow, Accept the Cupid _Mistletoe_.

Oh! happy, tricksome time of mirth Giv’n to the stars of sky and earth! May all the best of feeling know, The custom of the _Mistletoe_!

Spread out the laurel and the bay, For chimney-piece and window gay: Scour the brass gear--a shining row, And Holly place with _Mistletoe_.

Married and single, proud and free, Yield to the season, trim with glee: Time will not stay,--he cheats us, so-- A kiss?--’tis gone!--the _Mistletoe_.

_Dec. 1826._

*, *, P. * * * * *

A GLOOMY MORNING BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

It is methinks a morning full of fate! It riseth slowly, as her sullen car Had all the weights of sleep and death hung at it! She is not rosy-finger’d, but swoln black! Her face is like a water turn’d to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds As if she threatened night ere noon of day! It does not look as it would have a hail Or health wished in it, as of other morns.

_Jonson._

[Illustration: ~The Wonder of the West.~]

“And where did she come from? and who can she be? Did she fall from the sky? did she rise from the sea?”

Late one evening in the spring of 1817, the rustic inhabitants of Almondsbury, in Gloucestershire, were surprised by the entrance of a young female in strange attire. She wore leather shoes and black worsted stockings, a black stuff gown with a muslin frill at the neck, and a red and black shawl round her shoulders, and a black cotton shawl on her head. Her height was about five feet two inches, and she carried a small bundle on her arm containing a few necessaries. Her clothes were loosely and tastefully put on in an oriental fashion. Her eyes and hair were black, her forehead was low, her nose short, her mouth wide, her teeth white, her lips large and full, her under lip projected a little, her chin was small and round, her hands were clean and seemed unused to labour. She appeared about twenty-five years of age, was fatigued, walked with difficulty, spoke a language no one could comprehend, and signified by signs her desire to sleep in the village. The cottagers were afraid to admit her, and sought the decision of Mr. Worrall, a magistrate for the county, at Knole, whose lady caused her own maid to accompany her to a public-house in the village, with a request that she should have a supper, and a comfortable bed.

In the morning Mrs. Worrall found her, with strong traces of sorrow and distress on her countenance, and took her with her to Knole, but she went reluctantly. It was Good Friday, and at the mansion, observing a cross-bun, she cut off the cross, and placed it in her bosom.

Paper and a pen were handed to her to write her name; she shook her head: and when she appeared to comprehend what was meant, pointed to herself, and cried “Caraboo.” The next day she was taken to Bristol, examined before the mayor, at the Council-house, and committed to St. Peter’s Hospital as a vagrant, whither persons of respectability flocked to visit the incomprehensible inmate. From that place Mrs. Worrall removed her once more to Knole. A gentleman, who had made several voyages to the Indies, extracted from her signs, and gestures, and articulation, that she was the daughter of a person of rank, of Chinese origin, at “Javasu,” and that whilst walking in her garden, attended by three women, she had been gagged, and bound, and carried off, by the people of a pirate-prow, and sold to the captain of a brig, from whence she was transferred to another ship, which anchored at a port for two days, where four other females were taken in, who, after a voyage of five weeks, were landed at another port: sailing for eleven more weeks, and being near land, she jumped overboard, in consequence of ill usage, and swimming ashore, found herself on this coast, and had wandered for six weeks, till she found her way to Almondsbury. She described herself at her father’s to have been carried on men’s shoulders, in a kind of palanquin, and to have worn seven peacocks’ feathers on the right side of her head, with open sandals on her feet, having wooden soles; and she made herself a dress from some calico, given her by Mrs. Worrall, in the style of her own which had been embroidered. The late Mr. Bird, the artist, sketched her, according to this account, as in the engraving.

[Illustration: ~Caraboo.~]

The particulars connected with these recitals, and her general conduct, were romantic in the extreme. At the end of two months she disappeared; and, to the astonishment of the persons whose sympathies she had excited, the lady Caraboo a native of Javasu, in the east, was discovered to have been born at Witheridge in Devonshire, where her father was a cobbler! A very full account of her singular imposition is given in “A Narrative,” published by Mr. Gutch of Bristol, in 1817, from whence this sketch is taken. After her remarkable adventures, she found it convenient to leave this country. A Bath correspondent writes as follows:--

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

In the year 1824, Caraboo having returned from America, took apartments in New Bond-street, where she made a public exhibition of herself--admittance _one shilling_ each person; but it does not appear that any great number went to see her.

Z.

* * * * *

GENTLE CRAFTSMEN,

An opportunity has not occurred, till now, to introduce the following

[Illustration: ~A Lady’s old Shoe, and Clog.~]

It was purposed to have been accompanied by others: as it is, indulgence is craved for it as a specimen of the art and dexterity of our ancestors in shoe-making and wearing. It is drawn from the original, purchased by Mr. J. J. A. F., with other curiosities, at the sale of the Leverian Museum.

The shoe is of white kid leather, calashed with black velvet. There are marks of stitches by which ornaments had been affixed to it. Its clog is simply a straight piece of stout leather, inserted in the underleather at the toe, and attached to the heel. That such were walked in is certain; that the fair wearers could have run in them is impossible to imagine. They were in fashion at the Restoration.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·72.

~December 24.~

ROBIN HOOD.

_For the Every-Day Book._

The 24th of December, among other causes, is rendered remarkable from its having been the day on which the bold Robin Hood breathed his last, in the year 1247.

The accounts of the life of this extraordinary outlaw are so various, and so much mixed up with fable, that to render a true history of him would be almost impossible.

His real name was Fitz-Ooth, his grandfather, Ralph Fitz-Ooth Earl of Kyme, whose name appears in the Roll of Battle Abbey, came over to England with William Rufus, and was married to a daughter of Gilbert de Gìent earl of Lincoln.[541]

His father, William Fitz-Ooth, in the times of feudal dependancy, was a ward of Robert earl of Oxford, who, by the King’s order, gave him his niece in marriage, the third daughter of lady Roisia de Vere, countess of Essex.[542]

Having dissipated his fortune, Robin Ooth, or Hood, as he was named, joined a band of depredators, and, as their chief, laid heavy contributions, for his support, on all such as he deemed rich enough to bear the loss.

He was famed for his courage, skill in archery, and kindness to the poor, who often shared with him in the plunder he had taken. The principal scene of his exploits is said to have been in Sherwood Forest, and the period, that of the reign of Richard I., thus described by Stowe:--

“In this time (1190) were many robbers and outlaws; among the which Robin Hood and Little John, renowned thieves, continued in woods, dispoyling and plundering the goods of the rich; they killed none but such as would invade them, or by resistance for their own defence.

“The said Robert entertained an hundred tall men and good archers with such spoiles and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested; poor men’s goods he spared, abundantly relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys, and the houses of rich earles: whom Major (the historian) blameth for his rapine and theft, but of all thieves he affirmeth him to be the prince, and the most gentle theefe.”[543]

“It is said,” writes Baker, “that he was of noble blood, at least made noble, no less than an earl, for deserving services, but having wasted his estate in riotous courses, very penury forced him to this course.”[544]

Robin Hood was the hero of many popular songs, several of which are to be found in “Evans’s Collection of Old Ballads,” as early as the reign of Edward III. R. Langlande, a priest, in his “Pierce Plowman’s Visions,” notices him:--

“I cannot perfitly my Paternoster, as the priest it singeth, I can rimes of Robenhod and Randal of Chester, But of our Lorde or our Lady I learne nothyng at all.”

He is reported to have lived till the year 1247; but Baker, in his “Chronology,” makes his death, which is said to have been caused by treachery, to have taken place in the reign of Richard I. “The King set forth a Proclamation to have him apprehended; it happened he fell sick, at a certain nunnery in Yorkshire, called Berckleys, and desiring to be let blood, was betrayed, and made to bleed to death.”[545]

The manner of his death is also recorded in an old ballad, entitled “Robin Hood and the valiant Knight, together with an Account of his Death and Burial.”

* * * * *

“And Robin Hood he to the green wood, And there he was taken ill. And he sent for a monk, to let him blood Who took his life away; Now this being done, his archers did run, It was not time to stay.”

At Kirklees, in Yorkshire, formerly a Benedictine nunnery, is a gravestone, near the park, under which it is said Robin Hood lies buried. There is the remains of an inscription on it, but it is quite illegible. Mr. Ralph Thoresby, in his “Ducatus Leodiensis,” gives the following as the epitaph:--

“Hear undernead dis laith stean Laiz Robert Earl of Huntington, Nea arcir ver az hie sa geude: An piple kaud im Robin Heud. Sic utlawz as hi, an iz men, Wil England never sigh agen. Obiit 24 kal. Dekembris, 1247.”

Some of his biographers have noticed him as earl of Huntingdon, but they are not borne out in this by any of the old ballads, this epitaph alone calling him by that title. All the learned antiquarians agree in giving no credence to the genuineness of the above composition, alleging, among other causes, the quaintness of the spelling, and the pace of the metre, as affording them strong grounds for suspicion.

However strongly the name and exploits of Robin Hood may have been impressed on our memories from the “oft told” nursery tales, yet we have lately had it in our power to become more intimately, and, as it were, personally acquainted with this great chieftain of outlaws, through the medium of the author of “Waverley,” who has introduced “friend Locksley” to the readers of his “Ivanhoe,” in such natural and glowing colours, as to render the forgetting him utterly impossible.

HENRY BRANDON.

_Leadenhall-street._

~Christmas-eve.~

BELLMAN’S VERSES

_Upon Christmas-eve_.

This night (you may my Almanack believe) Is the return of famous Christmas-eve: Ye virgins then your cleanly rooms prepare, And let the windows bays and laurel wear; Your _Rosemary_ preserve to dress your _Beef_, Nor forget me, which I advise in chief.

_Another on the same._

Now, _Mrs. Betty_, pray get up and rise, If you intend to make your _Christmas_ pies: Scow’ring the pewter falls to _Cisley’s_ share; And _Margery_ must to clean the house take care: And let Doll’s ingenuity be seen, In decking all the windows up with _green_.[546]

* * * * *

It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that several notices of this day have been already presented; yet, many as they are, there are others from whence a few may be gleaned, with the probability of their still being acceptable.

With Mr. Leigh Hunt, who is foremost among modern admirers of the old festivals of the season, Christmas is, as it ought to be, the chief. His papers, in 1817, which occasioned the following letter, are not at hand to cite; and, perhaps if they were, the excellent feelings of his “fair correspondent” might be preferred to some of even _his_ descriptions.

_To the Editor of the Examiner._

Sir,--I am of the number of your readers who recollect, with pleasure and gratitude, your papers last year on keeping Christmas, and I looked forward with a hope, which has not been disappointed, that you would take some notice again of its return. I feel unwilling to intrude on your valuable time, yet I cannot refrain from thanking you for your cheering attempts to enforce a due observance of this delightful season. I thank you in my own name, and I thank you in the name of those to whom the spring of life is opening in all its natural and heartfelt enjoyments. I thank you in the name of the more juvenile part of the holyday circle, who, released from the thraldom of school discipline, are come _home_, (that expressive word,) to bask awhile in the eyes and the smiles of their fond parents; and, lastly, I thank you on behalf of those who have none to plead for them, and to whom pleasure is but a name--the sick at heart and sick in body, the friendless and the fatherless, the naked and the hungry. To all of these I hope to extend a portion of happiness and of help, with a heart full of gratitude to Him who has “cast my lot in a goodly heritage.” I have, under this feeling, been for some days past busily employed in preparing for passing Christmas _worthily_. My beef and mince-meat are ready, (of which, with some warm garments, my poor neighbours will partake,) and my holly and _mistletoe_ gathered; for I heartily approve of your article, and am of opinion that to the false refinement of modern times may be traced the loss of that primitive and pure simplicity which characterised “other times.” To your list of “authorities” I beg leave to add that learned and truly Christian prelate, Bishop Hall, who, in his “Contemplation on the Marriage of Cana,” so strongly enforces the doctrine, that the Creator is best honoured in a wise and _rational_ enjoyment of the creature.

Cordially wishing you the chief of sublunary blessings, _i. e._ health of body and health of mind, I remain, Sir, your obliged and constant reader,

A WIFE, A MOTHER, AND

AN ENGLISHWOMAN.

_South Lambeth, Dec. 21, 1818._

* * * * *

In Mr. Nichols’s Collection of Poems there are some pleasant verses, which seem to have proceeded from his own pen:--

TO H----Y M----N, ESQ.

_On his refusing a_ CHRISTMAS DINNER _with a Friend, on pretence of gallanting some Ladies to Leicester_.

When you talk about Leicester I hope you’re a jester. Why desert an old friend, For no purpose or end? But to play the gallant, With belles who will flaunt, And who, cruel as vain, Will rejoice in your pain! No--Come to our pudding We’ll put all things good in Give you beef, the sirloin, If with us you will dine; Perhaps too a capon, With greens and with bacon: Give you port and good sherry, To make your heart merry, Then sit down to a pool, ’Stead of playing the fool; Or a rubber at whist, But for this as you list. Next, give muffins and tea, As you sometimes give me. As for supper, you know, A potato, or so; Or a bit of cold ham, As at night we ne’er cram; Or a tart, if you please, With a slice of mild cheese. Then we’ll sing--sing, did I say? Yes: “The Vicar of Bray;”[547] And, what I know you don’t hate “My fond shepherds of late:”[548] Nor think me a joker, If I add “Ally Croaker.”[549] In fine, we’ll sing and delight ye, Till you say, “Friends, good night t’ ye.”

1780.

N. J.

Whether these verses were written by Mr. Nichols or not, the mention of his name occasions it to be observed, that about a week before the present date he died, at the age of eighty-five.

The editor of this humble work, who has derived much assistance in its progress from the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” which Mr. Nichols edited for nearly half a century, would omit to do rightly if he were not thus to acknowledge the obligation. Nor can he recollect without feelings of respectful gratitude, that his name appeared a few years ago in the “Domestic Occurrences” of the “Gentleman’s Magazine” with fidelity to its readers, unaccompanied by remarks which some of its admirers might, perhaps, at that time have admired. Its critical pages subsequently distinguished the volume on “Ancient Mysteries” by approval; and since then they have been pleased to favour, and even praise, the publication of which this is the last sheet. There was no personal intimacy to incline such good-will, and therefore it may be fairly inferred to have resulted from pure feelings and principles of equity. Mr. Nichols’s rank as a literary antiquary is manifested by many able and elaborate works. As he declined in life, his active duties gradually and naturally devolved on his successor: may that gentleman live as long in health and wealth, and be remembered with as high honour, as his revered father.

_Dec. 23, 1826._

W. H.

GLASTONBURY THORN.

On Christmas-eve, (new style,) 1753, a vast concourse of people attended the noted thorn, but to their great disappointment there was no appearance of its blowing, which made them watch it narrowly the 5th of January, the Christmas-day, (old style,) when it blowed as usual.--_London Evening Post._

On the same evening, at Quainton, in Buckinghamshire, above two thousand people went, with lanterns and candles, to view a blackthorn in that neighbourhood, and which was remembered to be a slip from the famous Glastonbury thorn, and that it always budded on the 24th, was full blown the next day, and went all off at night. The people finding no appearance of a bud, it was agreed by all, that December 25 (new style) could not be the right Christmas-day, and accordingly refused going to church, and treating their friends on that day as usual: at length the affair became so serious, that the ministers of the neighbouring villages, in order to appease them, thought it prudent to give notice, that the _Old_ Christmas-day should be kept holy as before.[550]

* * * * *

This famous hawthorn, which grew on a hill in the church-yard of Glastonbury-abbey, it has been said, sprung from the staff of St. Joseph of Arimathea, who having fixed it in the ground with his own hand on Christmas-day, the staff took root immediately, put forth leaves, and the _next_ day was covered with milk-white blossoms. It has been added, that this thorn continued to blow every Christmas-day during a long series of years, and that slips from the original plant are still preserved, and continue to blow every Christmas-day to the present time.

There certainly was in the abbey church-yard a hawthorn-tree, which blossomed in winter, and was cut down in the time of the civil wars: but that it always blossomed on Christmas-day was a mere tale of the monks, calculated to inspire the vulgar with notions of the sanctity of the place. There are several of this species of thorn in England, raised from haws sent from the east, where it is common. One of our countrymen, the ingenious Mr. Millar, raised many plants from haws brought from Aleppo, and all proved to be what are called Glastonbury thorns. This exotic, or eastern thorn, differs from our common hawthorn in putting out its leaves very early in spring, and flowering twice a year; for in mild seasons it often flowers in November or December, and again at the usual time of the common sort; but the stories that are told of its budding, blossoming, and fading on Christmas-day are ridiculous, and only monkish legends.[551]

“HODENING” IN KENT.

At Ramsgate, in Kent, they begin the festivities of Christmas by a curious musical procession. A party of young people procure the head of a dead horse, which is affixed to a pole about four feet in length, a string is tied to the lower jaw, a horse cloth is then attached to the whole, under which one of the party gets, and by frequently pulling the string keeps up a loud snapping noise, and is accompanied by the rest of the party grotesquely habited and ringing hand-bells. They thus proceed from house to house, sounding their bells and singing carols and songs. They are commonly gratified with beer and cake, or perhaps with money. This is provincially called a _hodening_; and the figure above described a “hoden,” or wooden horse.

This curious ceremony is also observed in the Isle of Thanet on Christmas-eve, and is supposed to be an ancient relic of a festival ordained to commemorate our Saxon ancestors’ landing in that island.[552]

CHRISTMAS POTTAGE.

Amongst the customs observed on Christmas-eve, the Venetians eat a kind of pottage, which they call _torta de lasagne_, composed of oil, onions, paste, parsley, pine nuts, raisins, currants, and candied orange peel.

MARSEILLES’ FESTIVAL.

Many festivals, abrogated in France by the revolution, were revived under Buonaparte. Accordingly, at Marseilles on Christmas-eve all the members of any family resident in the same town were invited to supper at the house of the senior of the family, the supper being entirely _au maigre_, that is, without meat,--after which they all went together to a solemn mass, which was performed in all the churches at midnight: this ceremony was called in Provence _faire calène_. After mass the party dispersed and retired to their respective houses; and the next day, after attending high mass in the morning, they assembled at dinner at the same house where they had supped the night before, a turkey being, as in England, an established part of the dinner. The evening was concluded with cards, dancing, or any other amusement usual on holydays. Formerly there had been the midnight mass, which was often irregularly conducted, and therefore on the revival of the old custom it was omitted.[553]

* * * * *

CHRISTMAS.

With footstep slow, in furry pall yclad, His brows enwreathed with holly never sere Old Christmas comes, to close the wained year; And aye the shepherd’s heart to make right glad; Who, when his teeming flocks are homeward had, To blazing hearth repairs, and nutbrown beer, And views well pleased the ruddy prattlers dear Hug the grey mungrel; meanwhile maid and lad Squabble for roasted crabs. Thee, Sire, we hail, Whether thine aged limbs thou dost enshroud In vest of snowy white and hoary veil, Or wrap’st thy visage in a sable cloud; Thee we proclaim with mirth and cheer, nor fail To greet thee well with many a carol loud.

_Bamfylde._

CAROLS.

The practice of singing canticles or carols in the vulgar tongue on Christmas-eve, and thence called _noels_ in the country churches of France, had its origin about the time that the common people ceased to understand Latin. The word _noel_ is derived from _natalis_, and signified originally a cry of joy at Christmas.[554]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·87.

[541] Stukeley’s Palæographia Britannica, No. 11. 1745.

[542] Ibid.

[543] Stowe’s Annals, 159.

[544] Baker’s Chronicles, 94.

[545] Ibid.

[546] Bellman’s Treasury, 1707.

[547] “In good king Charles’s golden days.”

This is said to have been written by an officer in colonel Fuller’s regiment, in the reign of king George I. It is founded on an historical fact, and, though it reflects no great honour on the hero of the poem, is humorously expressive of the complexion of the times in the successive reigns from Charles II. to George I.

[548] “My fond shepherds of late were so blest.”

A favourite air in Dr. Arne’s “Eliza.”

[549] “There lived a youth in Ballan o Crazy.”

This song is ascribed to a lady of great quality: it does not, however, abound with the wit which usually flows from female pens; but it admits of being sung with great humour.

[550] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[551] Communicated by D. B. C. from Boswell’s Antiquities of England and Wales.

[552] Busby’s Concert Room and Orchestra Anecdotes, &c.

[553] Miss Plumptre.

[554] Burney’s History of Music.

~December 25.~

CHRISTMAS-DAY.

BELLMAN’S VERSES, 1707,

_Upon Christmas Day._

_To the Shepherds._

Go, happy shepherds, leave your flocks and hie To Bethlem, where your infant Lord doth lie: And when you’ve view’d his Sacred Person well, Spare not aloud what you have seen to tell. Write volumes of these things, and let them bear The title of the _Shepherd’s Calendar_: This I assure you never _shepherds_ knew With all their studies half so much as you.[555]

WHITEHAVEN CUSTOMS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Whitehaven, 4th Sept. 1826._

Sir,--You furnished your readers last Christmas with a dish, greatly up-heaped, of information regarding the manner in which it was kept in various parts of the kingdom. I enclose herein a printed copy of the play, which is said, or rather sung, at and about that time, by numbers of boys in this town. The comedians, of which there are many companies, parade the streets, and ask at almost every door if the _mummers_ are wanted. They are dressed in the most grotesque fashion; their heads adorned with high paper caps, gilt and spangled, and their bodies with ribbons of various colours, while St. George and the prince are armed with ten swords. The “mysterie” (query?) ends with a song, and afterwards a collection is made. This is the only relic of ancient times which exists in this town, excepting, indeed, it be the _Waites_--a few persons who parade the streets for a fortnight or three weeks before Christmas, and play upon violins one or two lively jig tunes, and afterwards call upon the inhabitants for a few pence each. The same persons, when they hear of a marriage, or of the arrival from abroad of a sea-faring man, regularly attend and fiddle away till they raise the person or persons; and for this they expect a trifling remuneration.

I am satisfied you will join me, in surprise, that for so great a number of years, such a mass of indecent vulgarity as “Alexander and the king of Egypt,” should been used without alteration.

Upon the death of any individual, poor or rich, in this town, and the day before the funeral, the parish clerk, or the clerk of the church in whose church-yard the corpse is to be interred, goes round the town, with or without mourning as the case may be, and rings a bell, like a bellman, and thus announces his purpose: “All friends and neighbours are desired to attend the corpse of A. B. from Queen-street to St. James’s church to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock.”

Some of these hints may be of use to you--if so I shall rejoice; for a kinder-hearted publication than yours I never perused.

For the present I am, Mr. Hone,

Yours, most respectfully,

AN ADMIRER OF YOUR EVERY-DAY BOOK.

* * * * *

The tract accompanying the preceding communication is entitled “Alexander and the King of Egypt; a mock Play, as it is acted by the Mummers every Christmas. Whitehaven. Printed by T. Wilson, King-street.” Eight pages, 8vo. An opportunity is thus obligingly afforded of making the following extracts:

## Act I. Scene I.

Enter Alexander

_Alexander speaks_

Silence, brave gentlemen, if you will give an eye, Alexander is my name, I’ll sing a tragedy; A ramble here I took the country for to see, Three actors I have brought, so far from Italy. The first I do present, he is a noble king, He’st just come from the wars, good tidings he doth bring; The next that doth come in he is a doctor good, Had it not been for him I’d surely lost my blood. Old Dives is the next, a miser you may see, Who, by lending of his gold, is come to poverty; So, gentlemen, you see, our actors will go round, Stand off a little while more pastime will be found.

## Act I. Scene II.

_Enter Actors_

Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, For in this room we wish for to resort, Resort and to repeat to you our merry rhyme, For remember, good sirs, this is Christmas time. The time to cut up goose-pies now doth appear, So we are come to act our merry Christmas here, At the sound of the trumpet and beat of the drum Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come. We are the merry actors that traverse the street; We are the merry actors that fight for our meat; We are the merry actors that show pleasant play, Step in thou King of Egypt, and clear the way. _K. of Egypt._ I am the King of Egypt as plainly doth appear, And Prince George he is my only son and heir, Step in therefore, my son, and act thy part with me, And show forth thy fame before the company. _P. George._ I am Prince George, a champion brave and bold, For with my spear I’ve won three crowns of gold, ’Twas I that brought the dragon to the slaughter, And I that gain’d the Egyptian monarch’s daughter. In Egypt’s fields I prisoner long was kept, But by my valour I from them escap’d; I sounded loud at the gate of a divine, And out came a giant of no good design, He gave me a blow which almost struck me dead, But I up with my sword and cut off his head. _Alex._ Hold, Slacker, hold, pray do not be so hot, For in this spot thou know’st not who thou’st got, ’Tis I that’s to hash thee and smash thee as small as flies, And send thee to Satan to make mince pies. Mince pies hot, mince pies cold, I’ll send thee to Satan ’ere thou’rt three days old; But hold, Prince George, before you go away, Either you or I must die this bloody day, Some mortal wounds thou shalt receive by me, So let us fight it out most manfully.

## Act II. Scene I.

Alexander and Prince George fight, the latter is wounded and falls.

_King of Egypt speaks._

Curs’d Christian, what is this thou hast done? Thou hast ruin’d me by killing my best son. _Alex._ He gave me a challenge, why should I him deny? How high he was, but see, how low he lies. _K. of Egypt._ O Sambo, Sambo, help me now, For I was never more in need, For thee to stand with sword in hand, And to fight at my command. _Doctor._ Yes, my liege, I will thee obey, And by my sword I hope to win the day; Yonder stands he who has kill’d my master’s son, And has his ruin thoughtlessly begun, I’ll try if he be sprung from royal blood, And through his body make an ocean flood, Gentlemen, you see my sword’s point is broke, Or else I’d run it through that villain’s throat. _K. of Egypt._ Is there never a doctor to be found, That can cure my son of his deadly wound? _Doctor._ Yes there is a doctor to be found, That can cure your son of his deadly wound. _K. of Egypt._ What diseases can he cure?

[The doctor relates in ribald lines his various remedies, and the scene ends.]

## Act II. Scene II.

Prince George arises.

_Prince George speaks._

O horrible! terrible! the like was never seen, A man drove out of seven senses into fifteen, And out of fifteen into four score, O horrible! terrible! the like was ne’er before. _Alex._ Thou silly ass, that liv’st on grass, dost thou abuse a stranger? I live in hopes to buy new ropes, and tie thy nose to a manger. _P. George._ Sir, unto you I bend. _Alex._ Stand off thou slave, I think thee not my friend. _P. George._ A slave! Sir, that’s for me by far too base a name, That word deserves to stab thine honour’s fame! _Alex._ To be stabb’d, sir, is least of all my care, Appoint your time and place, I’ll meet you there. _P. George._ I’ll cross the water at the hour of five. _Alex._ I’ll meet you there, sir, if I be alive. _P. George._ But stop, sir, I’ll wish you a wife both lusty and young, Can talk Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue. _Alex._ I’ll have none such. _P. George._ Why don’t you love your learning? _Alex._ Yes, I love my learning as I love my life, I love a learned scholar, but not a learned wife; Stand off, &c. _K. of Egypt._ Sir, to express thy beauty I’m not able, For thy face shines like the very kitchen table, Thy teeth are no whiter than the charcoal, &c. _Alex._ Stand off thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou’lt die, I’ll make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly.

## Act II. Scene III.

King of Egypt fights, and is killed.

_Enter Prince George._

Oh! what is here? oh! what is to be done? Our king is slain, the crown is likewise gone; Take up his body, bear it hence away, For in this place no longer shall it stay.

_The Conclusion._

Bouncer Buckler, velvet’s dear, And Christmas comes but once a year, Though when it comes it brings good cheer, But farewell Christmas once a year. Farewell, farewell, adieu! friendship and unity, I hope we have made sport, and pleas’d the company; But, gentlemen, you see we’re but actors four, We’ve done our best, and the best can do no more.

HORNCHURCH.

_For the Every-Day Book._

On Christmas-day, the following custom has been observed at Hornchurch, in Essex, from time immemorial. The lessee of the tithes, which belong to New College, Oxford, supplies a boar’s head dressed, and garnished with bay-leaves, &c. In the afternoon, it is carried in procession into the Mill Field, adjoining the church-yard, where it is wrestled for; and it is afterwards feasted upon, at one of the public-houses, by the rustic conqueror and his friends, with all the merriment peculiar to the season. And here it may be observed, that there is another custom, at this place, of having a model of an ox’s head, with horns, affixed on the top of the eastern end of the chancel of the church. A few years ago it had been suffered to fall into decay; but in the year 1824 it was renewed by the present vicar. This church formerly belonged to the convent on Mount St. Bernard in Savoy; and it has been suggested, that the ox’s head, with the horns, may perhaps be the arms or crest of the convent, and that the custom, as well as the name of the place, originated from that circumstance. I shall be happy to be informed whether this suggestion be founded on matter of fact; and if not, to what other cause the custom can be assigned.

IGNOTUS.

* * * * *

Of the ancient doings of Christmas, there is a bountiful imagining, by a modern writer, in the subjoined verses:--

The great King Arthur made a sumptuous feast, And held his Royal Christmas at Carlisle, And thither came the vassals, most and least, From every corner of this British Isle; And all were entertained, both man and beast, According to their rank, in proper style; The steeds were fed and littered in the stable The ladies and the knights sat down to table.

The bill of fare (as you may well suppose) Was suited to those plentiful old times, Before our modern luxuries arose, With truffles and ragouts, and various crimes; And therefore, from the original in prose I shall arrange the catalogue in rhymes: They served up salmon, venison, and wild boars By hundreds, and by dozens, and by scores.

Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard, Muttons, and fatted beeves, and bacon swine; Herons and bitterns, peacocks, swan, and bustard, Teal, mallard, pigeons, widgeons, and in fine Plum-puddings, pancakes, apple-pies, and custard And therewithal they drank good Gascon wine, With mead, and ale, and cider of our own; For porter, punch, and negus, were not known.

All sorts of people there were seen together, All sorts of characters, all sorts of dresses; The fool with fox’s tail and peacock’s feather, Pilgrims, and penitents, and grave burgesses; The country people with their coats of leather, Vintners and victuallers with cans and messes; Grooms, archers, varlets, falconers, and yeomen, Damsels and waiting-maids, and waiting-women.

WHISTLECRAFT.

SUBTERRANEAN CHRISTMAS BELLS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Dear Sir,--Near Raleigh, in Nottinghamshire, there is a valley, said to have been caused by an earthquake several hundred years ago, which swallowed up a whole village, together with the church.

Formerly, it was a custom for people to assemble in this valley, on Christmas-day morning, _to listen to the ringing of the bells of the church beneath them_! This it was positively asserted might be heard by putting the ear to the ground, and harkening attentively. Even now, it is usual on Christmas morning for old men and women to tell their children and young friends to go to the valley, stoop down, and hear the bells ring merrily.

I am, &c.

C. T.

CHRISTMAS AT CHRIST’S HOSPITAL.

In an Essay on Christ’s Hospital, “Let me have leave to remember,” says Mr. Lamb, “the festivities at Christmas, when the richest of us would club our stock to have a gaudy day, sitting round the fire, replenished to the height with logs; and the pennyless, and he that could contribute nothing, partook in all the mirth, and in some of the substantialities of the feasting; the carol sung by night at that time of the year, which, when a young boy, I have so often laid awake from seven (the hour of going to bed) till ten, when it was sung by the older boys and monitors, and have listened to it in their rude chanting, till I have been transported to the fields of Bethlehem, and the song which was sung at that season by the Angels’ voices to the shepherds.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·57.

[555] Bellman’s Treasury.

~December 26.~

ST. STEPHEN.

For some remarkable observances on this festival, see vol. i. 1643.

GEORGE BARNWELL.

The representation of this tragedy was omitted in the Christmas holidays of 1819, at both the Theatres, for the first time.

* * * * *

When Mr. Ross performed the character of _George Barnwell_, in 1752, the son of an eminent merchant was so struck with certain resemblances to his own perilous situation, (arising from the arts of a real _Millwood_,) that his agitation brought on a dangerous illness, in the course of which he confessed his error, was forgiven by his father, and was furnished with the means of repairing the pecuniary wrongs he had privately done his employer. Mr. Ross says, “Though I never knew his name, or saw him to my knowledge, I had for nine or ten years, at my benefit, a note sealed up with ten guineas, and these words--“A tribute of gratitude from one who was highly obliged, and saved from ruin, by witnessing Mr. Ross’s performance of _George Barnwell_.””

* * * * *

This year, 1742, celebrated in dramatic annals as the year wherein Mr. Garrick first appeared on the stage, the theatrical season at Goodman’s-fields was 169 nights; Garrick played 159 nights; and, it is remarkable that the theatre was open on _Christmas-day_. The play was the “Fop’s Fortune,” and Garrick performed _Clodio_.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·40.

~December 27.~

ST. JOHN.

For wine manchets on this festival to preserve the eaters from poison annually, see vol. i. 1647.

THE CLAYEN CUP.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_January 12, 1825._

Sir,--In your account of the ceremonies now practised in Devon at Christmas, regarding the apple-trees,[556] you are wrong in calling it a “_clayen_ cup,” it should be a _clome_ or _clomen_ cup: thus all earthenware shops and china shops are called by the middling class and peasantry clome or clomen shops, and the same in markets where earthenware is displayed in Devon, are called clome-standings. I feel assured you will place this note to the right account, a desire that so useful and interesting a work should be as perfect as possible.

Perhaps the spirit of Christmas is kept up more in Devon, even now, than in any other part of England.

I am, &c.

AN EXONIAN.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·75.

[556] See vol. i. 41.

~December 28.~

INNOCENTS.

How children were annually whipped on this festival, and of its reputed luck as a day, see vol. i. 1648.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·10.

~December 29.~

“CHRISTMAS GAMBOLS.”

A play, with this title, appears to have once existed in MS. It is noticed in an early quarto auction catalogue, printed before 1700, though unfortunately without a title, _penes me_; the catalogue contains a rich sprinkling of English poetry, and this play, with others, occurs in Lot 40, amid a rare, though not very copious collection of old plays and miscellaneous tracts.

J. H. B.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·35.

~December 30.~

The following communication, though relating to an earlier period of the year, is now inserted, in order to include it, as its subject requires, in the present work.

AVINGHAM FAIR AND SPORTS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--As I have frequently derived much pleasure from the amusing descriptions of local customs in your _Every-Day Book_, I take the liberty of forwarding some reminiscences of customs which existed when I first drew halfpence from my breeches pockets, and which still remain in the north of England; I allude to a fair held at Avingham, a small hamlet situated on the banks of the Tyne, about twelve miles west of Newcastle.

Avingham fair is on the 26th of April and 26th of October. Formerly, an agricultural society awarded prizes to the successful candidates for the breed of horses, cows, sheep, &c. The _April_ cattle show was entirely of the male kind, and in every respect calculated to afford pleasure and instruction to the naturalist, being replete with variety, form, colour, and as much beauty as could be found in that part of the animal creation; so much so, that in turning from the scene with reluctance, you might exclaim, “Accuse not nature, she hath done her part; man, do thou but _thine_.” Morland, Potter, Cooper, and Bewick[557] might _all_ have found variety for the exercise of their several powers; and, indeed, the latter has given portraits of many of the specimens there exhibited, in his “History of Quadrupeds.” The _October_ show was of the female kind, and inferior to the former. At this meeting, two additional prizes were given; one to the grower of the finest crop of turnips, which was decided by taking so many rows of a given number of yards in length, and weighing them; the other was the sum of ten pounds, to the person who could prove that he had reared the largest family without assistance from the parish. The privilege of contest was confined to hinds (husbandmen.)

The fair is principally for the sale of cattle, and the show is not greater than that of Smithfield on market-day, excepting pigs, which here and at Stainshaw (Stagshaw) bank fairs supply the principal stock to the Cumberland and Westmoreland pig feeders. In the morning a procession moves from the principal alehouse for the purpose of _riding the fair_, as they call it, headed by the two Northumberland pipers, called _the duke of Northumberland’s pipers_, in a light blue dress, a large cloak of the same colour with white cape, a silver half-moon on one arm as a _cognizance_, and white band and binding to the hat. Each is mounted on a rosinante, borrowed, without consent, by the busy hostler from some whiskey smuggler or cadger, reconciled to the liberty by long custom. Those who have noticed the miller and his horse in Stothard’s picture of the “Pilgrimage to Canterbury,” may form a tolerable notion of the manner in which this “Jemmy Allen” and son are mounted; the accompanying sketch, from recollection, may more conveniently illustrate my description:

[Illustration: ~“Riding the Fair”--at Avingham.~]

And what have those _troopers_ to do here to-day? The duke of Northumberland’s _pipers_ are they.

The pipers, followed by the duke’s agent, bailiff, constable, and a numerous body of farmers, principally the duke’s tenantry, proceed first through the fair, where the proclamation is read, that the fair shall last nine days, &c.;[558] and then, the duke being lord of the manor, they walk the boundary of all that is or has been common or waste land. That task completed, they return to the alehouse with the pipers playing before them, where they partake freely of store of punch at the duke’s expense. The farmers are so proud of being able to express their attachment to his grace “_in public_,” as they term it, that they mount their sons on cuddies, (asses,) rather than they should not join the procession, to drink with them “the health o’ his grace, and lang may he leeve ta pratect and study the interests o’ his tanentry.” Then there’s “Here’s te ye Tam, thank’s te ye Joke,” and so they separate for the fair, there to “settle how mickle per heed they con git for their nowte an swine.”

Avingham fair, like others, is attended by many a “gaberlunzie,” with different kinds of amusement for children, such as the “E and O, black-cock and grey;” and, above all, for the amusement of the pig drivers and “gadsmen,” Punch and Toby, (so called by them,) and a number of those gentlemen who vomit fire, as if they had swallowed the wicks of all the candles they had snuffed for Richardson. Many of those worthies I recollect having attended ever since I was able to see above the level of their stalls. At my last visit, I was much amused with one who seemed to have been just arrived from the sister kingdom; he was surrounded by ploughboys and their doxeys, their cheeks as red as their topknots. He had a large pan suspended from his neck, and, as the girls observed, a “skimmering” white apron and bib, and he bellowed as loud as he could, “Hearse a’ yer rale dandy candy, made ap wa’ sugar an brandy, an tha rale hoile a mint; it’s cood far young ar hold, cough or cold, a shortness a’ breath, ar a pain at tha stamach, it’s cood far hany camplaint whatsamever; A, fate! an yil try it:--noo leddies, hif ye try it, an yer sure ta buy it.” And sure enough this was the case, for whatever might be its qualities, it pleased the “leddies,” who purchased in such abundance, that they besmeared their faces so as to destroy that rosy red, love’s proper hue, which dwells upon the cheeks of our northern rustic beauties.

I must not forget to mention that the October fair is more numerously attended by those who go for pleasure. Unlike the southern holyday folks, they prefer autumn for this reason, that “hearst” is just ended, and they have then most money, which, with the “leddies,” is generally expended in dress suitable to this and similar occasions. After baking a sufficient number of barley bannocks for the following day, and the milk set up, they throw off their “linsey-woolsey petticoats,” and “hale made bed-goons” for a gown, a good specimen of their taste, in the two warmest colours, a red flower or stripe upon a yellow ground, and as much of a third colour round the waste, as would make them vie with Iris. In this butterfly state they hasten to the scene of mirth, and most of them dance till they have reason to suppose it is time to “gang hame, an git a’ ready be’ crowdie time.” The style of dancing is the same as in Scotland, country dances, reels, jigs, and hornpipes; the last mentioned is much admired. No merry-making is allowed to pass over without some rural “admirable Crichton” having shown his agility in this step. The hornpipe is introduced between each country dance, while “Love blinks, wit sleeps, an’ social mirth forgets their’s care upon the earth.” The following day is called by the inhabitants “gwonny Jokesane’s” day; why so is not known; all they know is, that it is and has been so called since the recollection of the oldest alive; and that is sufficient to induce them to continue a custom, which is peculiar to it, as follows. When a sufficient number have assembled, they elect what they are pleased to call a mayor, who they mount upon a platform, which is borne along by four men, headed by the musician that attended the preceding evening, and followed by a number of bailiffs with white “wans,” and all the men, wives, maids, and white-headed urchins in the village. Thus, all in arms, they proceed first to the minister’s house, and strike up a dance in front. His worship, “the mayor,” as a privileged person, sometimes evinces a little impatience, and if the minister has not made his appearance, demands to speak to him. On his advancing, “his worship” begins thus, “A yes! twa times a yes! an’ three times a yes! If ony man, or ony man’s man, lairds, loons, lubburdoons, dogs, skelpers, gabbrigate swingers, shall commit a parliament as a twarliament, we, in the township o’ Avingham, shall hea his legs, an heed, tied ta tha cagwheel, till he say yence, twice, thrice, prosper the fair o’ Avingham, an’ gwonny Jokesane’s day.” This harangue, however ridiculous, is always followed with cheering, in which their good-tempered pastor freely joins, with his hat above his head, and stepping forward, shakes “his worship” by the hand, giving him a cordial welcome, trusting he will not leave the manse till he takes a “drap a yel, a’ his ain brewin.” This is of course acceded to. The ale being handed round in plenty, and being found to be good, “an’ what is na guid that the minister hes,” they engage themselves for some time, “while news much older than their ale goes round.” The musicians meanwhile play such airs as “The Reel Rawe,” “The Bonny Bit,” “Laddie Wylam away,” &c. The dance goes round, “the young contending as the old survey,” until silence is called, when “his worship” gives as a toast, “Health, wealth, milk, and meal, the de’al tak ye a’ thot disent wish him (the minister) weal--hip! hip! huzza!” Raising “his worship” shoulder height again, they proceed round the village, repeating their gambols in front of every respectable house where they meet with a similar reception.

After this, foot-racing commences, for hats, handkerchiefs, and (as Mathews calls them) she-shirts. The several races run and prizes distributed, they return to the last and gayest of their mirthful scenes, not without bestowing some little pains in selecting colours calculated to give the finishing touches to the picture.

“Wi’ merry sangs, an’ friendly cracks, I wat they did na weary; An’ unco tales, an’ funny jokes, Their sports were cheap an’ cheary.

* * * * *

Syne, wi’ a social glass o’ strunt, They parted aff careerin, Fu’ blythe that night.”

So ends the fair of Avingham and its sports, which was to me, “in my youthful days,” a source of great amusement, but whether it is in comparing the present with the past, from a consciousness of having

“Dealt with life, as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away,”

that we do not derive the same pleasure from what passes before us in maturer age; or whether, in boyhood, the impressions of such trifles as I have related are deeper rooted in the memory; yet, certain it is, whatever be our situation in life, we all come to the conclusion, that our early days were our happiest.

I am, &c.

J--N J--K--N.

BATH ANECDOTES.

_A Member for the City_, 1645.

In December 1645, the following letter was sent by the mayor and first alderman of Bath, to sir John Harrington, announcing their design of electing him one of their representatives, entreating him to accept the trouble thereof. The bold eagerness with which a seat in parliament is _solicited_ now, and the modest coyness that marked the conduct of those who were _called_ to that honour in the early part of the seventeenth century, strikingly contrast. The person chosen at that period to represent a county or city, was generally allowed a gratuity by his constituents in consideration of his trouble.

COPY.

_To our muche honoured and worthie Friend, John Harrington, Esq. at his house at Kelstone, near Bathe._

Worthie Sir,

Out of the long experience we have had of your approved worth and sincerity, our citie of Bathe have determined and settled their resolutions to elect you for a burgess for the House of Commons in this present parliament, for our said citie, _and do hope you will accept the trouble thereof_; which if you do, our desire is, you will not fail to be with us at Bathe on Monday next, the _eighth of this instant, by eight of the morning, at the furthest_, for then we proceed to our election: and of your determination we entreat you to certify us by a word or two in writing, and send it by the bearer to

Your assured loving friends,

JOHN BIGG, the maior,

WILLIAM CHAPMAN.

_Bathe, Dec. 6, 1645._

SIR JOHN’S ACCOUNT OF HIS PROCEEDINGS.

_A Note of my Bathe businesse aboute the Parliament._

Saturday, Dec. 26th 1646 went to Bathe, and dined with the maior and citizens, conferred about my election to serve in parliament, as my father was helpless, and ill able to go any more; went to the George inn at night, met the bailiffs, and desired to be dismissed from serving, _drank strong beer and metheglin_, expended about _iijs_, went home late, but could not get excused, as they entertained a good opinion of my father.

Monday, Dec. 28th went to Bathe, met sir John Horner, we were chosen by the citizens to serve for the city. The maior and citizens conferred about parliament busines. _The maior promised sir John Horner and myself a horse apiece_, when we went to London to the parliament, _which we accepted of_, and we talked about the synod and ecclesiastical dismissions. I am to go again on Thursday, and meet the citizens about all such matters, and take advice therein.

Thursday 31st, went to Bathe, Mr. Ashe preached. Dined at the George inn with the maior and four citizens, spent at dinner _vjs_ in wine.

Laid out in victuals at the George inn _xjs_ 4_d._

Laid out in drinking _vijs ijd_.

Laid out in tobacco and drinking vessels, _iiijs_ 4_d._

Jan. 1st, _My father gave me_ £4 _to pay my expenses at Bathe_.

_Mr. Chapman the maior came to Kelston, and returned thanks for my being chosen to serve in parliament, to my father, in name of all the citizens._ My father gave me good advice, touching my speaking in parliament as the city should direct me. Came home late at night from Bathe, much troubled hereat, concerning my proceeding truly, for men’s good report and mine own safety.

Note. I gave the city messengers _ijs_ for bearing the maior’s letters to me. Laid out in all £3 _vijs for victuals, drink and horse hire, together with divers gifts_.

SUFFERING A RECOVERY.

In December, 1822, a poor man made application to the Bath forum magistrates, and stated that six months prior, he had bought the goods and chattels of a neighbour, together with his _wife_, for the sum of four pounds ten shillings, for which he produced a regular stamped receipt.

The man had spent all the money and wanted to have his wife back again, but he refused to part with her. The magistrates told him he had no claim to her, and advised him to deliver her up to her husband, which he at last reluctantly did. The following is a true copy of the stamped receipt.

“RECEIVED of Edward Gale, the sum of four pounds ten shillings, for good and chattels; and also the black mare and Mrs. Naish, as parting man and wife. As agreed before witnesses this 8th December, 1822.

“WITNESS, the mark of Edward Pulling X Mary Gale, George Lansdowne, and Edward Gale.

“_Settled the whole concern_,

By me John Naish.”

NINE MEN’S MORRIS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Ludgate-hill, 10th Nov. 1826._

Dear Sir,--I was much pleased on reading and being reminded of an ancient game in your book, called _Ninepenny-marl_; a game I had scarcely heard of during the last twenty years, although perfectly familiar to me in my boyish days, and played exactly the same as described by your correspondent P.[559]

I have since visited my native county, Norfolk, and find the game is still played by the rustics, and called, as it always has been there, “the game of _Morris_,” or “_Nine Men’s Morris_.” The scheme is frequently chalked on the ground or barn floors, and the game played with different coloured stones or beans. I think the name is more appropriate than “Ninepenny-marl;” and moreover, we of Norfolk have the authority of our immortal bard in his “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” where the queen of the fairies, speaking to Oberon, says, “The _Nine Men’s Morris_ is filled up with mud.”

There are some men who are not a little proud at being proficients at this game. I heard an anecdote at North Walsham of a man named Mayes, still living in that neighbourhood, who is so great a lover of the pastime, that a wager was laid by some wags, that they would prevent his going to church, by tempting him to play; and, in order to accomplish their purpose, they got into a house, building by the road side, where Mayes was sure to pass. Being a great psalm-singer, he had a large book under his arm; they called him in to settle some disputed point about the game, and he was very soon tempted to play, and continued to do so till church time was over, and got a good scolding from his wife for being too late for dinner.

I have been led to make these remarks from the pleasure I have derived from your publication; and you may excuse me, perhaps, if I add, with a smile, that I have found some amusement in the game of Morris, by playing it with my chess men: it requires more art to play it well, than you would imagine at first sight.

I am, dear sir,

Yours sincerely,

T. B.

* * * * *

With almost the same pleasure that room has been made for this letter, from a well-remembered kind neighbour, will his communication be read in Norfolk by his fellow-countrymen.

He graces it from charmed metre, but I (spoil’d of Shakspeare’s line) take prose from Strutt.

The erudite historian of the “Sports and Pastimes of the People of England,” says, that “_Merelles_, or, as it was formerly called in England, _Nine Men’s Morris_, and also _Fivepenny Morris_, is a game of some antiquity.” He gives a figure of the “Merelle-table,” as it appeared in the fourteenth century, the lines of which are similar to those in the scheme of “_Ninepenny Marl_,” engraved with the account of the game communicated by *, *, P., with only this difference, that at each corner, formed by the angles and intersections, are black spots.

The game is played in France with pawns or men, made on purpose, termed _merelles_: hence the pastime derived that denomination. The manner of playing is briefly thus: two persons, each having nine men, different in colour and form, for distinction sake, place them alternately one by one upon the spots; and the business of either party is to prevent his antagonist from placing three of his pieces so as to form a row of three, without the intervention of an opponent piece. If he forms a row he takes one of his antagonist’s pieces from any part, except from a row, which must not be touched if he have another piece on the board. When all the pieces are laid down, they are played backwards and forwards in any direction that the lines run, but they can only move from one spot to another at one time. He that takes all his opponent’s pieces is the conqueror.

The rustic players of “Nine Men’s Morris,” in England, who draw their lines on the ground, make a small hole for every dot, and play in them with stones of different forms or colours. The pastime is supposed to have derived the appellation of “Nine Men’s Morris,” from the different coloured men being moved backwards or forwards as though they were dancing a morris.[560]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 38·70.

[557] The small cottage wherein Bewick was born, stands at a short distance from this village (Avingham.)

[558] It never continues longer than one day.

[559] At col. 983.

[560] Strutt.

~December 31.~

TO DECEMBER.

The passing year, all grey with hours, Ends, dull month, with thee; Chilled his summer, dead his flowers, Soon will his funeral be; Frost shall drink up his latest breath, And tempests rock him into death.

How he shivers! from his age All his leaves have faded, And his weary pilgrimage Ends at last unaided By his own sun that dims its ray, To leave him dark in his decay.

Hark! through the air the wild storm bears In hollow sounds his doom, While scarce a star its pale course steers Athwart the sullen gloom; And Nature leaves him to his fate, To his grey hairs a cold ingrate.

She goes to hail the coming year, Whose spring-flowers soon shall rise-- Fool, thus to shun an old friend’s bier, Nor wisely moralize On her own brow, where age is stealing Many a scar of time revealing:--

Quench’d volcanoes, rifted mountains, Oceans driven from land, Isles submerged, and dried up fountains, Empires whelm’d in sand-- What though her doom be yet untold-- Nature, like Time, is waxing old!

_New Monthly Magazine._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·50.

* * * * *

THE INDEXES TO THE VOLUME WILL END THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.

On taking leave, as Editor of this work, I desire to express my thanks for its favourable acceptation. It seems to have been regarded as I wished--a miscellany to be taken up by any body at any time. I have the pleasure to _know_ that it is possessed by thousands of families of all ranks: is presented by fathers to their sons at school; finds favour with mothers, as suited to the perusal of their daughters; and is so deemed of, as to be placed in public and private libraries enriched with standard literature. Ascribing these general marks of distinction to its general tendency, that tendency will be maintained in my next publication,

THE TABLE BOOK.

This publication will appear, with cuts, _every Saturday_, and in monthly parts, at the same price as the _Every-Day Book_, and will contain several original articles from valued correspondents, for which room could not be here made.

The first number and the present year will be “out” together. I gratefully remember the attachment of my friends to the present sheets, and I indulge a hope that they will as kindly remember me, and my new work.

THE TABLE BOOK.

Cuttings with Cuts, facts, fancies, recollections, Heads, autographs, views, prose and verse selections, Notes of my musings in a lonely walk, My friends’ communications, table-talk, Notions of books, and things I read or see, Events that are, or were, or are to be, Fall in my TABLE BOOK--and thence arise To please the young, and help divert the wise.

_December 23, 1826._

W. HONE.

INDEXES.

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

* * * * *

TO THE BINDER.

If the work be required in FOUR Volumes, commence “VOL. I.--PART II.” at col. 867, and place the Indexes to that Volume at the end--commence “VOL. II.--PART II” at col. 833, and conclude with the Indexes to Vol. II.

1. THE GENERAL INDEX.

ABBEY, (Fountain’s,) Yorkshire, ruins of, 1061. Abgarus, portrait sent by Christ to, 63. Abraham, his oak at Mamre, 1033. Actors, power formerly exercised over, by lord chamberlain, 1063. Adanson, Michael, naturalist, notice of, 1067. Addison, his library noticed, 696. Aerostation, 1567. Ague, charm for, 1560. Aguelar, baron, the miser, lottery anecdote about, 1526. Alberoni, cardinal, notice of, 878. Aldhelm, bishop of Sherborne, 1308. Aleppo, thorns called Glastonbury brought from, 1642. Ales, local customs about, 675, 693. All-fools’ day, 485, 487. Almondsbury, Gloucestershire, narrative relating to, 1631. Alnwick. Northumberland, the freeman’s well at, 249. Ambleside church, notice of, 1369. Amsterdam, lotteries in, 1532. Anderson, Jem, champion for mayor of Garrett, 834. Andrew, Merry, derivation of, 503. Anglers, important to, 767. Angling, article on, 769. Ann of Denmark, notice of her jewels, 749. Anthony, parish of, in Cornwall; accident in church of, 663. Antigua in 1736, 1304. Antiquaries, remarks in favour of, 308. Apparitions, forged account of, in Ireland, 278, 281; at Woodstock, history of, 583; relating to death, &c., 1111; judicious remarks on, quoted, 1011; farther notice, 1578. Apples, receipt for keeping, 1213. ---- see Cider. Archery at White Conduit-house, 1564. Argyle, earl of, notice of, 758, 759. Arm-chairs, opera, 630. Armour, articles of, lottery prizes consisting of, 1411. Ardmore, bishopric of, 1034. Arones, J., lottery fraud of, 1466. Art, black, printing so called, 1240. Arthur’s seat, Edinburgh, engraving of May-dew dancers at, 609. Ash Wednesday, 197. Ashburnham family, 1376. Ashburton, lord, (John Dunning,) died, notice of, 1087. Ashmole, Elias, extracts from his diary, 1305. Ashton-under-line, custom at, 467. Ashton Ralph, tradition concerning, 469. Asidew, Arsedine, or Orsden, explanation of, 1376. Auckland, (Bishop,) custom at, 1043. Augsburg cathedral, engraving of a monument in, 1073. Avingham fair and sports, 1653. Authors, curious instance of one, 1068; instance of anxiety of one, 1315. Autographs; of Browne Willis, 295, 296; of Dr. R. Willis, bishop of Winchester, 296; of Benjamin West, 366; of earl of Mansfield, 396; of John Hampden, 476; of William Emerson, 690; of George Heriot, 913. Autumn, engraving of ancient dress for, 1342.

Baal, fires in honour of, See Fires. Backsword or singlestick, notices of, 1207, 1341, 1399. Bacon, gammon of, custom of eating at Easter, 439; custom about flitch of bacon, and engraving, 799; receipt for making Somersetshire bacon, 813. ---- lord, his singular recommendation about garden walks, 518; his plan of a mansion house, 1621. Balcanquel, Dr., rules for Heriot’s hospital drawn by, 756. Baldwin, Samuel, remarkable funeral willed by, 684. Bales, Peter, curious caligraphy by, 1215. Balmerino, lord, executed, notice of, 1096. Band, Elizabeth, daughter of Heriot; her sons provided for in their grandfather’s hospital, 755. Bank of England, anecdote of clerks of, 1447; singular details of forgery on, see Price, Charles. Baptism; of bells, 139; of Jews at Rome before Easter Sunday, 437; a curious case of one, 899; a Welch one described, 1613. Barber-surgeons, 758. Barbers, numerous convictions of, in 1746, 1564. Baretti, Joseph, notice of, 643. Barming, Kent, custom of doleing at, 1627. Barnwell, George, acting of at Christmas, effect of, 1651. Barrington, viscount, expelled house of commons, 1447. Bartholomew fair, 1196. Bartlemass, mayor of, mock election of at Newbury, 1045. Bath anecdotes, 1659. Battles, singular opening of one, 875; notice of a great naval one, _ib._ Baubleshire, duke of, a remarkable character so called; engraving and notice of, 679. Baxter’s “World of Spirits,” anecdote from, 1239. Beadle, parish, 1558. Bears, various descriptions of, 1560. Beasts, satire on over-fattening for the market, 1547. Beaucaire, in France, fair of, 1037. Beaufoy, colonel, his account of a remarkable storm, 553. Beaume, Sainte, near Marseilles, notice of, 1003. Beauty, supposed to be promoted by washing with May-dew, 611. Becket, Thomas à, engraving and notice of, 929. Beckford family, notice of, 1371. Bees, taking honey without killing them, 1323. Bell-man’s verses, 1594. Bells, notices of, 135, 138; consecration of, 136; description of passion bell, 392; how guarded in Lent, 434; England called the ringing island, 509; horse-racing for silver bells, 539; their redundant ringing and tolling, 744, 745, 907; notice of Bow bells, 1256. Beltain or Beltane, in Scotland, Scottish May-day festival, 659. Ben, Old General, of Nottingham, 1569. Bennet, old, the newscrier, notice of, 1275. Bentinck, count, duke of Portland, 1374. Benvenuti, bishop, costly mistake of, 1398. Berkshire, derivation of the name, 1033. Berwick, duke of, notice of, 789, 1323. Bexhill, Sussex, notice of, 743. Beziers, in France, procession of the camel in, 641. Biddenden, Kent, notice of, 442, 449. Bills, exchequer, origin of, 29. Birds, amusement of shooting at a wooden one, 289; rearing and treatment of young ones, _ib._; the eagle, a royal one, _ib._; singular collision of flocks of, near Preston, 1139. Birds-nests, anecdote concerning, 238. Births, insurance of, 1436. Bish, the last man, lottery puff, 1507. Bishop Auckland, custom of, 1043. Bishops, the devil called by king James a busy bishop, 1230; notice of the boy bishop, 1601. Black, lamp, receipt for, 266. ---- art, printing so called, 1240. Blackberry jam, how to be prepared, 1116. Blackburn weavers, memorial of their wretched state, 562. Blackford, an able backsword player, 1341. Blacking, burlesque company for making, 1581. Blagden, Dr., and others, experiments on heat, 776; his narrative, _ib._ Bland, Mrs., notice of, 1204. Blanks, lottery, 1447; one made a prize, 1466. Blase, sir W. and lady, their equipage at mock election for Garrett, 851. Blind persons, remarks on their dreams, 1539. Block, wetting the; shoemakers’ custom of, 470. Blood showers, explanation of, 1127. Bloomfield, (the poet,) an early amusement of, 901. Blue-coat boys, tampered with about lottery tickets, 1463; remarks on their singing Christmas carols, 1651. Boadicea, 1198. Boar’s head at Christmas, 1649. Bochsa, Mr., 1599. Bolton-upon-Swale, Henry Jenkins born in, 1602. Bolton, duke of, 1375. ----, duchess of, (before Kitty Fisher,) advertisement by, 474. Bonaparte, 1070. Books, advertisement of one in 1653, 1314; lottery for, 1414; list of the books, 1418. Bosworth, battle of, 1104. Bottesford, curious entry in church book of, 371. Bow bells, notice of, 1256. Bowl, wassell, notice of, 7. Bowls, long, 1070. Bowyer, Wm., printer, notice of, 1557. Boxeley, rood of, account of, 417. Boy, the laughing, engraving of, 543. ---- bishop, notice of, 1601. Boys, one said to be murdered by his school-master, 1371; notice and cut of boys about a sugar hogshead, 1543. ----, climbing, remarks on, from 617 to 626. See Chimney-sweepers. Bray, sir Reginald, notice of, 1071. Bridal, royal, 374. Bridewell boys, former turbulence of, 1398. Bridgewater, duke of, canals by, 1266. Bright, Edward, the largest man, 1581. Brighton, 1257. Brill, (The,) Middlesex, Cæsar’s camp called, 1345, 1566. Brindley, James, civil engineer, died, notice of, 1263. Brittany, superstitions in, 972. Brockbank, William, the walking post, 1593. Brothers, the, 316. Brough, Westmoreland, 1596. Brown, baron, Durham poet, engraving and notice of, 1217. ---- Joe, account of, 549. Brushes for sweeping chimneys, engraving of one, 617. Bubbles, (speculations called,) notice of, 28, 520, 1579. Buck and doe, carried in St. Paul’s cathedral, origin of, 119. Buckingham, custom at, 707. Buckles and shoes, notice of, 1354. Buffon, count de, naturalist, notice of, 519. Bulkeley, Mr., circumstances of his child’s baptism, 899. Buns, hot-cross, 410. Burial, provision against in a will, 1325; general invitations published to attend burials, 1645. Burnet, sir Thomas, died, 43. Bury, Suffolk, dispute about bells in, 907. Burwell, Cambridgeshire, fatal fire at, 1225. Busby, Dr., his chair a supposititious one, 901. Bushell, Isaac, a backsword player, 1341. Butler, William, died, 1316. Butterworth, Billy, an eccentric character, notice of, 1142.

Cæsar’s pretorium at Pancras, 1345, 1566. Cake, Biddenden, account of, 442. Calculation, an extraordinary one, 396. Calendar, naturalists’, 25. Calico-printing, a chemical black for, 269. Caligraphy, notice of, 1215. Calves-head club, 158. Camps, description of Cæsar’s at Pancras, 1345, 1566. Canals by Brindley, notice of, 1265; the Grand Junction one commenced in 1766, 970. Candlemas day, 173, 223; judges’ entertainment and dance, 174. Cann, the Devonshire champion in wrestling, 1009. Canonbury tower, supposed subterraneous passage from, 1607. Canterbury, Thomas à Becket, archbishop of, notice and engraving of, 929. Carbonari, ludicrous anecdote about, 1398. Cardan, curious circumstance of, 456. Caraboo, impostor, self-called, notice and engraving of, 1632. Cards, a child played for at, 1344. Carlos, colonel, and Charles II., notice of, 698. Carna, goddess of the hinge, 727. Cars, travelling ones in Ireland, engravings of, 239, 241. Carter, farmer, ludicrous “trial of farmer Carter’s dog,” 198. Carving, ancient, engraving of, 497. Cat, engraving of a street image of one, 312. Catholics and Protestants, mutual interest of, 1370. Cavendish, house of, 1376. Ceres, represented in harvest, 1155, 1162. Chabert, the human salamander, 771. Chairs, opera arm, 630. ----, Dr. Busby’s, a supposititious one, 901. ----, sedan, _ib._ ----, shoemakers’ amusement with, _ib._ Chalmers, James, curious advertisement by, 938. Chamberlain, lord, power formerly exercised by, over actors, 1063. Chancery, a hoax in, 1145. Chances in lotteries, computations touching, 1456. Charitable corporation, notice of, and of lottery for the sufferers by, 1451. Charles I., behaviour of, 143, 146. ---- II., notice of, 698; public notice of his continuing to heal the evil, 682. ---- V., anecdote of, 458; curious pageant at Dunkirk by, 870. Charlotte, queen, notice of, 1084. Charlton, Mr. T., notice of, 1627. Cheap Tommy, (Thomas Hogg,) notice of, 942. Cheldonizing, or swallow-singing, explained, 1111. Chemists, anecdote of, 635. Chepstow castle, sports at, 1562. Cherries, feast of, at Hamburgh, 1040. Cheshire, customs in, 450, 597, 1371. Chester, ancient horse-racing at, 539. Chicheley, archbishop, artifice of, 1141. Child, Mr., banker, notice of, 1445. ---- one played for at cards, 1344. Chillcott, Charles, notice of, 969. Chimes, 138. Chimney-sweepers, rhetoric of one, 56; May-day exhibition of, 613; procession, public dinner, and oratory of the masters, 617; engraving of “the last chimney-sweeper,” _ib._; masters’ hand-bill, _ib._ Chimneys, how to dress for the summer, 517. Chinese festival of lanterns, 90. Cholera morbus, remarks on, 1243. Cholmondeley, marquis of, 376. Christians, their hatred of Jews, 533. Christmas, usages and celebrations respecting, 1628, 1638, &c. Christmas out of doors, at Ratzburg, 11. Christopher, Bartholomew, a sufferer by gambling, 1527. Christ’s Hospital. See Blue-coat Boys. Chuneelah, the elephant killed at Exeter Change, 321. Churches pressing for the navy in, 443; watching of in Yorkshire, 548; curious colloquy on images, &c. in, 1367; Hogarth’s satire on some old supposed embellishments in, 1369. Churchill, (Stuart,) Arabella, notice of, 1325. ---- John, (duke of Marlborough,) 1376. ---- sir Winston, letter of, 1322. Churchwardens, chosen on Easter-Monday, 458. Cibber’s Apology, notice of, 1064. Cider, preparation for making, 1269; excellence of the Herefordshire cider, 1270. Cookery, old receipts for, their costliness, 518. Clack Fall Fair, 1371, 1584, 1606. Clapham, old church of, notice of, 1369. Clay, Hercules, delivered from danger by a dream, 367. Clayton, Mr., an old and good tenant, 1256. Cleobulus, his riddle on the year, 26. Clerkenwell in 1730, notice of, 699. Cleves, patent for Order of Fools at, 1287. Climate, changes of, 70; Howard’s work on climate of London recommended, 3. Climbing boys, society for suppressing, 622. See Chimney-sweepers. Clinton, Samuel, an extraordinary sleeper, 96. Clogs, engraving of an old shoe and clog, 1635. Clothing counteractive of heat, 779. Clouds, singular case of their electricity in Java, 1082; notices respecting heights, motions, and shapes of clouds, _ib._ Club, calves-head, 158. Coachmen, (Hackney,) instances of honesty of, 902. Coat and badge, Dogget’s prize of, for rowing, 1062. Cobblers, festival of, at Paris, 1054, 1055. See Shoemakers. Cock, W., (sir W. Swallowtail,) notice of, 835, 838. Coffins, anecdotes of, 1020. Coleridge, Mr., his description of Christmas out of doors at Ratzburg, 114. Coleshill, customs of, 467. Collars, a remarkably heavy one, 530; worn by judges, 538. Colman, George, the elder, died, notice of, 1087. Comedy, street, notice of, 1310. Common prayer, strictures on, 149. Connaught, rigid fasting at, on Good Friday, 411. Connor, rev. J., his description of ceremonies of Greek church at Jerusalem, 438. Conjugal indifference, 1301. Conway, William, a noted London-crier, 470. Cook-maid, engraving of, in a lottery puff, 1503. Cooper’s hall, lotteries latterly drawn in, 1119. Copenhagen-house, 1564. Corbet, Richard, bishop of Norwich, 1390. Cornwall, Christmas drama of St. George as acted in, 122; customs in, 676, 1008; earthquake in, in 1757, 1007. Coronations, Mr. Taylor’s excellent work on, 995. Corpse candles, exhalations so called, 1019. Corpus Christi day, notice of, 695. Cotswold, harvest home on, 1155. Country and town, contrast of, 1366. ---- mansions, description of, 1620, &c. Court, (Lawless,) notice of, 1286. Covent-garden market, 1187. Coventry, earl of, 1376. Cow-mass, 870. Cowper, earl, 1375. Cracknell, T., notice of, 838. Craniology, notice of, 838. Credulity, popular, 1139. Criminals, elephants employed as executioners of, 356. Crispe, sir Charles, notice of, 941. Crocodile, the first living one in England, 1605. Croker, T. C., jaunting car described by, 241. Cromwell, Oliver, original letter of, 911. Cross, Paul’s, history and engraving of, 415. ---- Mr., account of his elephant at Exeter Change, 323. ---- buns, 410. Crucifixion, Christ’s, celebration of at Seville, 422; relics of, 426. Cruikshank, George, phrenological illustrations by, 1119. Cuckoo, the, observations on, 1138. Cumberland, customs in, 450, 668. Cup, the clayen, or clome, or clomen, 1652. Cupid, the popular representation of, engraving of, and satire on, 1545. Curling, game of, 163.

Daft-days, 13. Dalmahoy, Mr., statement of, 1527. Dalmer, a baker, how his fortune made, 1561. Danby, lord, anecdote of, 1095. Dancing, (morris,) 792. ---- -bears, 1560. Darkness and fog in 1813, 101. Darlington, earl of, 1376. Daughters, a curious present to one, 1560. Davenant, sir W., notice of, 521. Davis, George, a sleep-walker, 1296. Days, lucky, notice of a supposed one, 1320. Death, apparition of the chariot of, 978; account of the “death fetch,” in an Irish tale, 1013; opera of “The Death-fetch” noticed, 1011; prayers for prisoners under sentence of death, 1378; death of the State Lottery, 1499, 1502; annual death of a whole people, 1581. Debtors, fraudulent, singular case of one, 1241. Dedication, of joints of the fingers to saints, 94. Deer, Sion Gardens lottery for, 1446. D’Eglantine, Faber, why so called, 605. Delaval, sir F. B., curious anecdote of, 1471. Dellicot, William, convicted of stealing a penny, 899. Den of the elephant killed at Exeter Change, engraving of, 335. Denny, D., lottery fraud of, 1466. Derby, West, customs of, 432. Derbyshire, customs in, 451, 637. Devil, history of the good devil of Woodstock, 582; engraving of St. Michael standing on the devil, 1271; called by James I. a busy bishop, 1239; his usual shape an empty bottle, 1241; overlooking Lincoln College, 1236; superstitions respecting him, 1238. Devils, printers’, 1239. Devonshire, customs in, 666, 1009, 1170, 1652. Dew, (May,) dancers at Arthur’s seat, Edinburgh, 409. Diaries, curious extracts from one, 1305. Dibdin, Charles, his opera of “The Waterman” noticed, 1062. Digby, lord, annual tolling for, 1255. Dimsdale, sir H., mayor of Garrett, 824, 838. Dinners, curious invitation to one, 508; anecdote of an election one, 1193. Diogenes and his lantern, print of, 644. Dissenters, their celebrations of throwing out the Schism Bill, 1061. Diversions, curio is one of a widowed husband, 1020. Doctors, the Whitworth one, 477. Does, origin of carrying a buck and a doe in St. Paul’s cathedral, 119. Dogget, Thomas, actor, notice of, and of his coat and badge rowing for, 1062. Dog, ludicrous trial of, 198; and of the dog of Heriot’s hospital, 759. Dolmoors, Somersetshire, custom at, 917, 921. Dragon, St. George and the, engraving of, 1274. Dramas, fertility in producing, 1133. Draper, Elizabeth, account of her wedding-dress in 1550, 796. Drawing of the Lottery, engraving of, 1441. See Lottery. Dreams, Mr. Clay delivered from danger by one, 367; curious remarks on dreams, 1537; notices of dreams, 1578, 1581. Dress, a lady’s in 1550, 796; engraving of an ancient dress for autumn, 1342. Drop handkerchief, custom of, 665. Drummond, lady Jane, notice of, 743. Drunkenness, singular advertisement touching, 938. Dublin, May-day in, 595. Duck, Stephen, the thresher poet, 1103. ---- hunting, description of, 1403. Duelling, memorandum to men of honour touching, 942. Dulce domum, supposed origin of, 710. Duncan, lord, notice of, 1315. Dunck, Miss, a great heiress, 898. Dunkirk, cow mass at, 870. Dunmow, Essex, ancient custom at, engraving of, 799. Dunning, John, (lord Ashburton,) died, notice of, 1087. Dunstable, mode of catching larks at, 118. Dunstan, sir Jeffery, mayor of Garrett, 824, 829. Durham, county of, ceremony of a new bishop entering, 1044. ---- city of, custom at, 447. ---- ox, complaint of, 1547. Dwarf, curious one, 1605. Dyne, Corey, a noted backsword player, 1341.

Eagle, a royal bird, 1077. ---- Tavern, City-road, wrestling at, 1337. Earthquakes, one felt in Cornwall in 1757, 1007. Earwigs, 1099. East Bourn, custom of sops and ale at, 693. Easter-day, 457; extreme possible difference of time in its happening, 457. Edinburgh, celebrated for fine skaters, 117; notice of Heriot’s hospital in, and of the founder, 746; custom in, 609. Edward, king of the West Saxons, 390. Egede, Paul, a Danish missionary, died, 731. Eggs, paste, 439, 450; filled with salt, prophetic virtue of, 1560. Election, general, in 1826, 799, 818; description of a Westminster election, 853; occurrence at an election dinner, 1193; curious account of election expenses, 1659, 1660. Elections, mock, of mayor of Garrett, 819, 851; of mayor of Bartlemass, for Newbury, 1045. Electricity in clouds, curious and dreadful case of in Java, 1082. Elephanta, island of, 349. Elephantiasis, 357. Elephants, account of the one called Chuny killed at Exeter Change, 321, &c.; narratives and anecdotes concerning elephants, 337-366;

## particulars relating to one killed at Geneva, 700.

Elia, notice of the writings of Mr. Lamb, so signed, 1255. Elizabeth, queen, and dean of St. Paul’s; curious colloquy between, 1367. Emerson, W., autograph and notice of, 690. Encroachments resisted, 1207. Encyclopedia, a universal natural one, proposed by Adanson, 1168. Enghien, storm at, 1235. England, merry, description of, 36; called the Ringing Island, 509. Englishmen, difference between their former and present habits, 11. Ensham, Oxfordshire, custom in, 669. Epitaphs, on T. Jackson, 390; on the State Lottery, 1525; on Henry Jenkins, 1604. Epping forest, Easter hunt in, 459, 460. Equator, custom of sailors on passing, 1394. Equinox, autumnal, gales of, 1283. Erskine, lord, a poem on “The Rook” supposed to be written by, 1139. Essex, great mortality of wives in, 923; harvest custom in, 1172. Estates, the Three, curious political drama called, 15. Every-Day Book; memoranda on Vol. I., 1550; to be immediately followed by a work called “The Table Book,” 1664. Evil, royal notice of continuing to heal it, 682. Ewes, signs of rain given by, 510. Exchequer bills, origin of, 29. Executions, of lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino, 1096. Exercises, gymnastic. See Gymnastics. Exeter, Lammas fair, 1059. ---- Change, dead elephant at, 321. Eye, evil; preventive against the blink of, in Scotland, 688.

Faces, (human,) curious medley of, 1537. Facts, instances of their coincidence with predictions, 456. Fair, (frost,) on the river Thames in 1814, 110. Fairlop oak, a pulpit made of, 1564. Fairs on St. Patrick’s day in Ireland, 383. Falkirk, a gruel against witchcraft still made and sold at, 688. Fallowfield, Mr., speculation of, 520. Falstaff, the Cornish, (Payne Anthony,) notice of, 969. Families, long exemption from death in one, 899. Farrell, Mr., engraving of a fountain in his window, 785. Farren, notice of, 894. Fatality of days, work concerning, 1320. Fathers, a curious present from one, 1560. Fearn, Scotland, accident in church of, 1307. “Feast of fools,” 485, 487. Fens in Essex and Kent, dangerous residence in, 923. Fermor, family of, 1376. Fetch, (Death,) opera so called, notice of, 1011. Fielding, Henry, his farce called “The Lottery,” 1447. Figg, the prize-fighter, notice of, 780. Fingers, joints of, dedicated to saints, 95. Fires, great or fatal, in Lincoln’s inn, 880; at a puppet show, 1225; hallow-eve fires, 1259; passing through fires, or lighting them in honour of Baal or the the sun, 865, 870; beginning of the season for lighting fires, 1359. Fish, curious revolution in, 769. Fisher, Kitty, (duchess of Bolton,) advertisement by, 474. Fishing, Thunny, at Marseilles, 647. Fitz-Ooth, (Robin Hood,) memoir of, 1636. Fleet-ditch, notice of a boar passing through it into the Thames, 1113. ---- market, contract for building in 1736, 1357. Fleetwood, recorder of London, a spring diversion of, 532. Flies, notice of the May-fly, 770. Flitch of bacon, custom touching, 799. Floral games of Toulouse, 599. Flower, Margaret and Phillis, executed for witchcraft, 371. Flowers, artificial, curious advertisement of, 172. Flying machines, fatal accident by, 1291. Fog, remarkable one in 1813, 101. Fontenoy battle, singular opening of, 560. Fools, April, custom of making, 485; order of fools, 1287. Foot-ball, 374. Foote, Samuel, the actor, notice of, 845; his “Mayor of Garrett,” 846; anecdote of, 1471. Forcing-houses, guarded against hail, 1237. Fordyce, Dr., and others, experiments on heat by, 776. Forests, their beauty in autumn, 1283. Forgery, extreme ingenuity and vigilance in, 1476. Fortunatus lottery, 1440. “Fortunes of Nigel,” a novel, notice of, 766. Fortune-telling by means of snails in Scotland, 685. Foster, rev. ----, a dissenting minister, notice of, 1096. Fountain in June, engraving of, 785. Fountain’s abbey, a beautiful ruin, 1061. France, spending of twelfth night in, 31. lotteries in, 1532, &c.; lark-shooting in, 90; harvest in, 377. Free, Mrs., her curious application about a lottery prize, 1443. Freeman’s well, the, at Alnwick, 249. Freemasons, engraving and account of a procession burlesquing, 522. French, Thomas, a singular pauper, 679. Frost, great, in 1814, 101; frost fair, 109. Fruits, the pleasure of buying our own, 1188; how to mark growing fruits, 1213. Funerals, a remarkable one, 681. Fuseli, H., painter, notice of, 551.

Gainsborough, Thomas, painter, notice of, 1065. Gall and Spurzheim, Drs., notice of, 1122. Galloway, lord, poetical lamentation, &c. of, 631. Game laws, copy of the order for swans, 958. Gaming; a child played for at cards, 1344. Gammon of bacon, custom about, 729. Garden-walks, singular management of, recommended, 518. Gardiner, col., anecdote of, 694. Garrett, in Wandsworth road, election of mayor of, 819. Garrick, David, anecdote of, 61; play-bill of his first appearance in London, 1336; further notice, 1652. Gaskill, Isaac, penance done by, in 1826, 982. Gassendi, explanation by, of bloody rain, 1128. Gathering of May-dew, engraving of, 609. Gay science, the, college for at Toulouse, 602. Gazette, first published at Oxford in 1665, 1384; origin of the name, _ib._ Geneva, engraving of the death of an elephant at, 706. ---- madame, lying in state, 1269. Gentlemen, old English, their houses and mode of living, 1620-1624. George IV., his birthday noticed, 1083. Gerard’s-hall, London, May-pole of, 612. German showman, engraving and notice of, 1329. Ghosts. See Apparitions. Gibbon, John, notice of, 1458. Gideon, sir Sampson, fraud of, touching lotteries, 1458. Gilchrist, Dr. John, his gift to Heriot’s hospital, 766. Gin lane, 272; gin act, notice of, 1269. Glasgow and Ayr, synod of, decision of respecting Sunday, 1156. Glastonbury thorn, 1641. Gleaning apples from the trees, (called griggling,) 1269. Glendower, Owen, notice of, 1026. “Glory of Regality,” Mr. Taylor’s excellent work called, 995. Gloucestershire, harvest custom in, 1164. Go, (little and great,) lottery, notice of, 1498. God, mother of, curious address to Mary as, 1089. God save the king, air of, 538. Goddards, attempt at explanation of, 1137. Gold, an image of, dug up, notice of, 1606. Golding’s model lottery, 1583. Good Friday, 410. Gordon, lord George, 831. Gossamer, showers of, produced by the field spider, 1188, 1332. Gottingen university, 1243. Grain, rogue in, an acknowledged one, 729. Grant, sir A., expelled the Commons, 1451. Grasshoppers, 1151. Greatness, ludicrous complaint against, 1547. Green, Valentine, 685. Greenwich hospital adventure, lottery so called, 1446. Gregory, Dr. George, died, notice of, 369. Griggling orchards, in Herefordshire, 1270. Grocer’s sugar hogshead, with boys, notice and cut, 1562. Gruel against witchcraft, still made and sold in Scotland, 688. Guard, yeomen of, instituted in 1485, 1351. Guildford, old, church, accident in, 542. Guilds; Necton (in Norfolk) guild, engraving and account of, 669. Gutch, Mr., his account of the pretended Caraboo, 1634. Gymnastics, society for, in London, 653; engraving of gymnastic exercises, 658.

Hackneymen, instances of honesty of, 902. Hail, guarding forcing-houses against, 1237. Hair powder, convictions about, 1564. Halde, J. B. Du, died, 1297. Halifax, earl of, marriage of, 898. Hall, capt. H., his description of passing the line, 1394. Halls, ancient, description of one, 1617. Hallow-eve fires, 1259. Halo, lunar, extraordinary one, 1537. Hamburgh, feast of cherries at, 1040. Hamilton, general, killed in a duel by col. Burr, 942. Hammersmith pump, engraving of, 1231. Hampden, John, letter and autograph of, 475. Hand-bills, distributed at Bartholomew-fair, 1196. Handkerchief, drop, custom of in Devonshire, 666. Hanger, col., his description of a Westminster election, 853. Hanover, no State Lottery ever in, 1535. Harburgh lottery, bill to suppress, 1446. Hardouin, Pere, died, notice of, 1592. Harper, John, (sir John,) mayor of Garrett, 823, 834, 842; engraving of his election, 839. Harrington, sir J., election expenses, &c. of, 1659, 1660. Harris, a sleep-walker, 1299. Hartsyde, Margaret, notice of, 750. Harvest-home, engraving of, 1153, 1158; harvesting on a Sunday, notice of, 1156; notice of harvest in France, 877. Hastings, Mr., an old English gentleman, 1624. Hatherleigh, Devonshire, customs in, 142. Hawkesbury in Cotswold, harvest-home in, engraving of, 1153. Hawthorn, Glastonbury, 1642. Hazlitt, Mr., notice of, 1257. Health, art of preserving, 195, 1615; drinking health in harvest, 1168, 1171. Heat, great degrees of, safely borne, and how, 771. Hedgehogs, wandering about Oldham by day, in 939. Hell, a pageant representation of, 872. Helston, Cornwall, notice of “Furry” at, 648. Henry VII., chapel of, built by sir Reginald Bray, 1072. Herefordshire, “crying the mare” in, 1163; griggling, and making of cider in, 1269. Heriot’s hospital, Edinburgh, engraving and notice of, and also of the founder, 746, 747; his arms and autograph, 913. Herod and Herodias, 1140. Highgate, swearing on the horns at, 79, 378. Hinge, the, Carna goddess of, 727. Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, custom at, 1174. Hoare, sir R. C, 1022. Hob, (old,) custom of in Cheshire, 1371. Hogg, Thomas, (cheap Tommy,) 942. Hogmany, a new year’s usage in Scotland, 13; similar in England, 73. Holland, Ann, duchess of Exeter, her will, 831. ---- Charles, actor, anecdote of, 1461. Holy Thursday, custom on, 636. Home, the poor man’s described, 564. Honey, to take without killing the bees, 1323. Honeycomb, Will, 432. Hoo, in Kent, mortality of wives in, 921. Hood, Mr. T., notices of his Progress of Cant, 130; and his Whims and Oddities, 1537. Hornchurch, custom of, 1649. Horne, W. A. esq., notice of, 1192. Horns, swearing on, at Highgate, 79, 378; horns prohibited to newsmen, 1276. Hornsey, new river at, engraving of, 1311. Horse-racing, early notice of, 539; with women-riders, at Ripon, 1061; at Sadler’s Wells, 1561. Horses, an extraordinary one for age and excellence, 1294. Hosier, admiral, 1392. Hot cross-buns, 410. Hours, the three, of Christ’s crucifixion, celebration of, 421. House, Sam., the Westminster publican, 853. Houses, hot or forcing, how guarded against hail, 1237; of old English gentlemen, 1620. Howard, Mr. Luke, his treatise on the climate of London recommended, 3. Howel Sele, notice of, 1027. Hug, Cornish, 1010. Humphrey, duke, dining with, 625. Hungerford, Wiltshire, revel at, 1399. Hunting, of elephants, 338, &c.; in Epping forest at Easter, 459, 460. Hurling, description of, 1008. Hurricanes, see Storms. Husbands, a wife’s sale of her dead one, 1301. Hutton Conyers, whimsical custom in, 21.

Idiots, curious account of one, 244. Illusions, 1557, 1559; see Apparitions. Images, common Italian, engravings of some of them, 311, 312, 315; colloquy on images in churches, 1367; account of digging up a gold image, 1606. Imposture, extraordinary. See Price, Charles. Incest, penance performed for, in 1826, 982. India, lottery for women in, 1518. Indifferents, the, order of merit so named, 696. Infants, jocular account of night-nursing them, 1541. Ink, writing, 265. “Inkle and Yarico,” curious criticism on, 143. Inscriptions, a curious one with a key to it, 732; singular colloquy touching images and inscriptions in churches, 1367. Insurance, on marriages, births, &c., 1436; for lottery tickets, 1436, 1461, 1496; curious trial about lottery insurance, 1469. Interment, provision in a will against, 1325. Inverary, astonishing rain at, 1215. Invitations, curious one to dinner, 508. Ireland, festival in honour of Baal in, 66, 866; travelling in, represented, 239; singular devotion in, relative to Christ’s passion, 411; superstitions touching death in, 1012; lottery job in, 1457. Irish linen, remarkably fine piece of, 1616. Iron mask, man with the, 1559. Isaure, Clemence, of Toulouse, 600. Islington, (St. Mary,) old church, engraving, 502. Italy, lotteries in, 1531, 1554. Ivy lane, 1135.

Jack Ketch and Newgate, notice of, 694. Jackson, Thomas, inscription on, 390. Jacobin club, origin of, 971. Jam, blackberry, receipt for, 1116. James I. and Ann of Denmark, marriage of, 1100. ---- II., notice of, 1320; anecdote touching a statue of, 487. January 30, remarkable sermon preached on, 149. Java, curious and dreadful case of electrical cloud in, 1082. Javasu, pretended birth-place of an impostor, 1633. Jekyll, sir J., obnoxious through the gin act, 1269. Jenkins, Henry, older than Old Parr, engraving and notice of, 1602. Jersey, earl of, 1376. “Jesus, Maria, Joseph,” &c., extract from a curious book so titled, 1089. Jewels, of queen Ann of Denmark, notice of, 749; lottery for disposing of prince Rupert’s, 1445. Jews, two procured to be baptized the day before Easter at Rome, 437; custom of eating bacon at Easter in abhorrence of them, 439; prejudice against, and interesting account of one, 533; trial touching the validity of a Jewish marriage, 1611; their hatred of Mamre fair, 1034. Johnson, Dr. S., remarks on, 271. Jones, John, of Wandsworth, notice and engraving of, 820, 821, &c. Joseph of Arimathea, and the Glastonbury thorn, 1642. Joshua, the inventor of lotteries, 1529. Judas the traitor, 425. Judges, dancing round the coal fire, custom of, 174; collars worn by, 538. Juggling, outdone by science, 780. Justice, H., esq., transported for stealing books, 652.

Keats, John, died, 250. Kensington palace, supposed long subterranean passage to, 1607; notice of Kensington gardens, 781. Kent, customs in, 1162, 1642; _Weald_ of Kent, origin of, 450; fens of, mortality of wives in, 923. Keppel, A. J. V., first earl of Albemarle, 1375. Ketch, (Jack) and Newgate, 694. Keys, Mr., melancholy case of, 1459. Kidlington, Oxfordshire, festival called Lady of the Lamb in, 669. Kilburn, John, cheap travelling of, 791. Kilmarnock, earl of, executed, 1096. Kindness, natural to women, 1614. Kings’ speeches, notice of one of James I., 1239. Kingshill, at Rochfort, Essex, Lawless court at, 1286. Kirklees, Yorkshire, 1638. Kissing-crust, 1563. Kitchen-maid, engraving of one in a lottery puff, 1503. Kitchener, Dr., 1550. Knill, John, esq., patron of athletic exercises in Cornwall, 1010.

Ladies, wedding preparations of one in 1550, 797. Lady, the old, character of, 189. Lambs, anecdote of the sale of, 395. Lammas towers, in Mid-Lothian, 1051. Lamp-black, receipt for, 266. Lancashire, custom in, 660. Lance, holy, account and engraving of, 426, 427, &c. _Land_-lady, fright of one, 1549. Lands, local custom of laying out, 917. Lanterns, Chinese festival of, 90. Largess, a harvest cry, 1158, 1166, 1173. Larks, taken by glasses at Dunstable, 118. Laughing boy, engraving of, 543. Laundon, (now Threekingham,) 1246. Law, whimsical account of, 232; curious action at, 1389. See Trials. Lawrence, Mrs., her seat of Studley Royal described, 1061. Ledyard, his interesting character of women, 1614. Leeches, unhurt by frost, 56; form a good weather-guide, 491. Legat, Bartholomew, an Arian, burnt, 374. Leheup, Peter, fined for lottery fraud, 1458. Leicester house, Leicester-square, 997. Leigh and Sotheby, booksellers, notice of, 696. Lent, curious penance for transgressing, 416. Lenthall, W., speaker, original letter of Oliver Cromwell to, 911. Leonidas of Tarentum, 510. Lever, sir Ashton, notices and engravings of his museum, 985-994. Levy, J., a Jew, interesting account of, 533. Lewes, Mr. Sheriff, petition in 1775 against lotteries, 1462. Licenses, application for one to kill thieves, 1189. Lichfield, customs of, 667. Lifting, a custom called, 1562. Lightning, observations on, and fatal effects upon a theatre at Venice, 1130, 1132. Lincoln college, Oxford, the devil looking over, 1236. Lincoln’s inn, great fire in, 880. Lincolnshire, custom in, 394. Lindians soliciting public subscriptions, notice of, 1111. Lindsay, sir D., curious political drama by, 15. Line, custom of sailors on crossing the, 1394. Linen, Irish, remarkably fine pieces of, 1616. Linton, Kent, custom of “doleing” at, 1627. Literature, dramatic, instance of fertility in, 1131. Little John, and Robin Hood, 1634, &c. Littlecotes-house, Buckinghamshire, described, and adventure at, 1617. Living, reasons for, 1591. Locksley, in Ivanhoe, representative of Robin Hood, 1638. London, Howard’s treatise on its climate recommended, 3; season of winter in, 48; engravings of city seals, 257, 881; spring in the city, 542; notice and engraving touching old watch of, 619, 869; gymnastic society in, 653; the season in, 781; materials of old city gates sold in 1760, 1043; Ivy-lane in, 1135; Cæsar’s camp near, 1345, 1566; lord mayor’s day, 1386; old sights in 1751, 1605; election for city officers, 1626. ---- Gazette, 1384. ---- Journal in 1731 on lotteries, 1451. Long, Edward, his ludicrous “Trial of a dog for murder,” 198; died, 210. Longforgan, in Scotland, custom at, 1175. Lopez de Vega, died, notice of, 1132. Lord-mayor, celebration of his day, 1132; singular robbery of, near Turnham-green, 1389. Loscoe, Derbyshire, the miser of, 1192. Lostwithiel, Cornwall, custom at, 441. Lothian, (Mid) Lammas towers in, 1051. Lotteries, engravings and very numerous notices of, 1335, 1405, &c. &c. Love, satire on the popular representation of, 1515. ---- lane, Camberwell, 1101. ---- tokens, formerly given, 1100. ----, David, engraving and notice of, 225, 1575. Lovelace, col. R., notice of, 561. Lovers, dream of one, 1539. Luck in lotteries, curious instance of, 1461. Lucky numbers in lotteries, notices of, 1437. Ludgate-hill, engraving relative to old watch tower on city wall near, 629. Lully, J. B., notice of, 403. Lumley, lord, 1376. Lunar halo, extraordinary, 1537. Lunn, Sally, buns of, 1561. Lusus naturæ, accounts of, 444, 445. Lyings in, custom at, 1331. Lynn, custom at, 223.

Macdonald, Flora, 1148. Magdaleneide, a curious poem so called, 1006. Maids, (the two Biddenden,) account and engraving of, 442, 443. Maidstone, custom at, 1627. Mamre, Abraham’s oak at, 1033. Man with the iron mask, 1559. Mansfield, earl of, his autograph, 396. Mantle-pieces, use of, 1350. Manuscripts, accidental loss of valuable ones, 1617. March, J. C., epitaph on, 478. Mare, crying the, custom of, 1163. Margarets, William, a rogue in grain, 729. Marl, ninepenny, game called, 983, 1661. Marlborough, duke of, 794. Marriages, a singularly disproportioned one, 651; custom of flitch of bacon relating to, 799; of Jews, trial about one, 1611; insurance on, 1436. Martins, 1562. Marseilles, thunny fishing at, 647; festival at, 1643. Martyr’s stone at Hadleigh, Suffolk, 212. Marvel, Andrew, died, notice of, 1095. Mary, (the Virgin,) Romish titles of, 1610. Mask, iron, the man with the, 1559. Mason, col., concentrates Norfolk festivities in Necton, 669. Mass, (Cow,) at Dunkirk, description of, 870. Massacre of St. Bartholomew, notice of, 1113. Massey, Mr. W., his account of election of mayor of Garrett, 826. Matches, burlesque company for making, 1581. Matthews at home, engraving and notice of, 465. Maundy Thursday, celebration of, at Seville and Rome, 405, 409. May, Cornelius, 644. ---- dew, notice and engraving about gathering of, 610. ---- fly, 770. Mayo, Ben, “the old general” of Nottingham, 1569. Mayors, of Bartlemass, 1045; of Garrett, 819, &c. May-poles, engravings and notices of, 574, 575, 579, 594, 640, 660. Measures and weights, 126. Meat, over-fed, satire on, 1547. Medley of human faces, 1537. Merchants, emblem for, 1327. Mercury, engraving of, _ib._ Merit, curious order of, at Paris, 696. Merlin’s cave in Richmond gardens, 1103. Merriman, Mr., at fairs, 1291. Mid-Lothian, Lammas towers in, 1051. Middleton Monday, 1571. Milk-maids, engraving of one in a lottery puff, 1520; garland of, 1562. Minden, battle of, 1628. Minerva, engraving and notice of, 463. Miser of Loscoe, 1192. Mists, 1295. Model lottery, 1583. Money, turning of, on new moon of new year, 44. Montague, Mrs., her annual dinner to chimney-sweepers, 623. Montgolfier, Messrs., 1567. Months, Woolley’s curious representation of the, 515; ancient Cornish names of, 970. Moody, Joe, 683. Moon, accounts of lunar rainbows, 1229, 1230; extraordinary lunar halo, 1537; discoveries in the moon, 1595. More, sir T., credulity of, 425. Morecroft, Mr. T. (the Spectator’s Will Wimble,) died, 897. Morris, nine men’s, game called, 983, 1661. ---- dancing, 792. ----, captain T., died, 221. Mosely, Dr., a curious criticism of, 143. Mother of God, curious address to, 1089. Mountebanks at White Conduit-house in 1826, 1291. Mountgoddard-street, London, 1137. Mulberries, numerous kinds of, 1069, &c. Mummers, 1645, &c. Munden, the actor, notice of, 894. Murder, ludicrous trial of a dog for, 198. Murphy, Arthur, author, notice of, 797. Museum, Leverian, engraving and notice of, 986, &c. Music, of a harvest cry, 1171; Canada and America in general, deficient in vocal music, 713; notice of the death song of the swan, 965, 966; lottery for a fine organ, 1453. “My son, sir,” ludicrous engraving, 1542. Mysteries, old dramas, notice of, 500.

Nanneu, the haunted oak of, in Wales, 1022. Napoli, in Greece, celebration of Easter in, 454. Naseby, battle of, original letter of Oliver Cromwell about, 911. Nassau, William, (first earl of Rochfort,) 1376. Naturalists’ calendar proposed, 25. Nature and art, 310. Navy, pressing men in church for, 449. Necton, in Norfolk, Whitsuntide festivals established in, 669; engraving, 671. Nelson, lord, 1343, 1356. Neptune, personified by sailors, custom of, 1394. Nests, attachment of birds to them, 238. New-year’s day, 5, &c. ---- River, impurity of water of, 1203; at Hornsey, engraving of, 1311; New River eclogue, notice of, 1551. Newark, customs at, 161, 367. Newbury, Berkshire, customs at, 367, 1045. Newcastle, extract from common council book of, 487; house of God, charity at, 785. Newscriers, London, 1275; a remarkable one, _ib._ Newspapers, an old one for 1736, described, 1301; an apology for not giving _the news_ in one, 1362. Niblet, Mr., died, 1095. Nichols, Mr., John, Dr. S. Parr’s letter to, on king Richard’s well, 1107; respectful notice of him, 1641. Nicot, Mr., said to have first brought tobacco to Europe, 398. Nine men’s morris, game called, 983, 1661. Noah, S., lottery fraud of, 1466. Nonsuch lottery, 1446. Norfolk, customs in, 1666. Northampton May garland, engraving of, 615. Northumberland, death tokens in, 1019. Norwich, hoax at, 1139. Notes, forged, in shop windows, notice of, 1335. “Nothing half so sweet in life,” illustrated, 1335. Nottingham, old general Ben of, 1569. Nowell, dean of St. Paul’s, and queen Elizabeth, colloquy between, 1367. Numbers, lucky, in lotteries, notices of, 1437.

O’Hara family, the, a tale of, 1013. Oaks, the haunted oak of Nanneu, 1022; sir Philip Sidney’s oak, 1032; Abraham’s oak at Mamre, 1033; name of Berkshire derived from one, 1033; lottery called the Royal Oak, 1423, &c. Oaths, form of the Dunmow oath, 803, 807; at election of mayor of Garrett, 843. Oddities, Whims and, Mr. Hood’s book called, notice of, and cuts from, 1537, &c. Ody, Joe, 1371, 1584. Oil used for stilling waves, 191, 254. Old English squires or gentlemen, their houses and mode of living, 1620, 1621, &c. ---- general Ben, of Nottingham, 1569. ---- Lady, the, picture of, 189. ---- Whig, the, newspaper described, 1301. Oldham, Lancashire, hedgehogs abounding in 1826, 939. Opera arm-chairs, 630. Optical illusions, 1559. Orders, female order of merit at Paris, 696; order of fools, 1287, &c. Orford, lord, his account of archbishop Chicheley, 1141; and of a curious organ, 1451. Organ, disposal of a very curious one by lottery, 1451. Orsedew, explanation of, 1263. Osnaburg, lottery in, 1531. Oven, heat of, resisted by Monsieur Chabert, 772, &c. Owen, Glendower, 1026. Owl and duck, cruel amusement with, 1403. Ox, Durham, complaint of, 1547. Oxford, gazette first published at, 1384. Paddington, customs at, 449, 577; notice of the old church at, 1369. Paisley, Hallow-eve fires, 1259. Palamede, a fish highly valued, 648. PALM SUNDAY, pageants on, 390, 392. Palmer worm, notice of, 1128. Pancakes, 1561. Pancras, Roman station at, 1345, 1566. Pandolfo Attonito, or lord Galloway’s lamentation, 632. Pantomimes, 500. Panyer Alley, engraving of an effigy on a stone in, 1135. Papeguay, French amusement of shooting at, 289, 375. Paris, festival of cobblers at, 1054. Parish beadle, 1553. Parker, John, curious caligraphy by, 1215. Parkinson, Mr., obtains the Leverian museum by lottery, 997, &c. Parkyns, sir T., notice of, 874. Parliaments, the only one within memory, expiring by efflux of time, 249. Parr, Dr. S., letter from, on king Richard’s well, 1107. Parrots, engraving of a street image of one, 311; amusement of shooting at a stuffed one, called papeguay, 289, 375. Passing Bell, origin of, 135. PASSION WEDNESDAY, celebration of, at Seville, 401. Patch, _alias_ Price, Charles, lottery office-keeper, curious memoirs of, 1470. Paths, field, 903. Paul Pry, letter from, 49. Paul’s Cathedral, notice of ball and cross on, 1096; dialogue between queen Elizabeth and the dean, 1367; lottery drawn in the church- yard, 1410. ---- Cross, history of, 414. Pauntley, agricultural custom in, 28. Peak of Derbyshire, custom of, 451; peculiar rights of marriage claimed in, 637. Peerages, now existing, prior to Henry VII., 1109. Peers, king William’s, notices of, 1374. Penderill family, anecdote of, 257. Penny lottery, 1421. Pentonville, Roman remains at, 1197, 1566. Peppard revel, advertisement of, 678. Pepys’, Mr., notice of gathering May-dew, 611. Peru, harvest customs in, 1162. Peter, the Lombard, immaculate conception suggested by, 1609. ---- -penny, 1319. Peter’s, St., at Rome, celebration of Easter in, 451. Petrarch, his notice of the cavern of Sainte Beaume, 1006. Phillips, sir R., his description of Garrett, 822. Phrenological illustrations by Cruikshank, notice of, 1121, &c. Physicians, the wonderful one, 477. Piccadilly, origin of, 381. Pictures in churches, curious colloquy on, 1367. Pigs, the first in Scotland, humorous notice of, 1113. Pilate, tradition concerning, 431. Piper, John, notice of, 925. Plants, machine for determining their daily increase, 185. Plate, lotteries for, 1409, &c. Play-bills, one announcing Garrick’s first appearance in London, 1336; apparatus for printing, 72. Plays, first attendance at one described, 1252. Ploughing, a miser’s plan for, 1194. Plumtree, Miss, her account of superstitions of Brittany, 972, &c. Poetry, establishment at Toulouse for encouraging, 602. Poisons, singular case of experimenting on, 635; taken, or pretended to be so, in large quantities, with impunity, 771. Pol de Leon, St., account of, 974. Polkinhorne, the Cornish champion in wrestling, 109. Pollard’s land, in Durham, tenure of, 1044. Pomfret, earl of, 1376. Pony, remarkable feat of one, 682. Poor man’s home, 563, 564. Porters, fellowship, notice of, 876. Portland, duke of, 1374. Porto Bello, capture of, 1392. Ports and Havens, first lottery for repairing, 1410. Pope, Morris, a champion at single-stick, 1400. Posset at bed-time, notice of, 1623. Post, the walking, 1593. Pottage, Christmas, 1643. Potteries, the, a summer scene in, 994. Pounteney, Mrs., accomplice of Price, the forger, 1478, &c. Poverty, reflections on, 563, 564. POWDER PLOT, _November 5_, celebrations of, 1378, &c. Prayers desired in a church for luck in a lottery, 1461. Presents, hiding of, in shoes and slippers, 1598. Pressing for the navy in church, in reign of queen Elizabeth, 449. Preston, Lancashire, singular collision of flocks of birds near, 1139. Pretorium, supposed, of Suetonius, at Pentonville, 1198, 1566. Price _alias_ Patch, lottery-office keeper, notice and engravings of, 1470. Prince of Thieves, Robin Hood the, 1637. Printers, their May festival, 627; printers devils, 1239. Printing, mystery of, picture of, 1240; calicoes, a chemical black for, 269. ---- -press at St. James’s, notices concerning, 231. Prisoners under sentence of death, prayers for, 1378. Prize-fighting, a challenge given and accepted in 1726, 780. Prizes in the lottery, 1410, &c. Processions, a burlesque one of freemasons, 523; of the chimney- sweepers, in lieu of their old May dances, 619; of the camel at Beziers, in France, 641. Prophecies, some relating to Easter, &c., 455; lord Bacon’s remarks on, 457. Protestants and Catholics, mutual interest of, 1370. Provençal poetry, public encouragement of, at Toulouse, 602. Puffs, lottery, engravings and notices touching, 1503, &c. Pulpits, 1544. Pump with two spouts, 492. Punch in the puppet-show, 500. Puppet-shows, fatal fire at one, 1225. Purton, Wiltshire, customs at, 1207, 1379.

Quainton, Buckinghamshire, 1641. Quakers, their address at birth of George IV., 1087. Queen, (harvest,) 1155, 1161. Quirinalia, the Roman, 487. Racing, early date of horse-racing, 539; women riders at Ripon, 1060; a sudden and lively foot-race at Brighton, 1257. Raffling lottery, notice of, 1444. Rain, Peiresc’s explanation of bloody rain, 1128; astonishing fall of, at Inverary, 1215; most fertilizing in thunder storms, 1131. Rainbow lunar, accounts of, 1229, 1230. Raleigh, Nottinghamshire, custom at, 1649. Ramsgate, custom of, 1642. Ratzburg, Christmas out of doors at, 114. Ravens, attachment of, to their nests, 238. Reading, a lottery at, 1411. Recorders of London, a spring diversion of one, 532. Refreshment, (seasonable) engraving of, 59. Relics, of the crucifixion, account of, 426; in churches, curious colloquy on, 1367. Revolution, curious one in fishes, 769. Rhinoceros, a remarkable female one, 1605. Riddles, one by Cleobulus, 26. Riding, extraordinary, 1293; riding the fair, a local custom, 1664, 1665. Ringing of bells. See Bells. Ripon, Yorkshire, customs at, 866, 1059. Rivers, Brindley’s answer about the use of, 1268. Robin Hood, memoir of, 1635. Robinson, G., fraud of, 1450. Rochford, Essex, Lawless court at, 1286. Rochfort, first earl of, 1375. Rodd, Mr. T., bookseller, integrity and judgment of, 1126. Rogue in grain, acknowledgment of one, 729. Roman remains, at Pentonville and Pancras, 1197, 1199, 1345, 1566. Romans, lotteries among, 1529, 1530. Rook, supposed poem on “The Rook” by lord Erskine, 1139. Roses for shoes, 1354. Ross, Mr., actor, curious anecdote of, 1651. Rotherham, Yorkshire, account of swallows at, 1295. Rouen, in France, pageant of the assumption in, 1092. Rousey, John, aged 138, died, 731. Rowing for Dogget’s coat and badge, 1062. Royal debts, notice of, 1355. Royal Oak lottery, the, notice of, 1423, &c. Rudkins, ---- a remarkable thief, 1242. Rules, for servants, 226; for preserving health, 1615. Rupert, prince, lottery for his jewels, 1445. Russell, house of, 1376. Russia, St. George much revered in, 546. Rutland, earl of, two of his children supposed bewitched, 370.

Sadler’s Wells, curious invitation to, 41; horse-racing at, 1561. Sagittarius, charm against the influence of, 1569. Sailors, on shore, 65; custom of, on crossing the Line, 1394; anecdote of one, 1470. Saint Ives, Cornwall, celebration of athletic games near, 1010. Sainte Beaume, near Marseilles, notices of, 1002, &c. Salamander, the human, M. Chabert, 771. Salisbury Plain, indolence of shepherds there, 984. Salle, Mademoiselle, Order of Merit instituted by, at Paris, 696. “Sally Brown,” &c. a popular ballad, 1549. Salt, great age of a man who never used any, 1214. ---- cellar, its importance in arranging guests, 1622. Sannazaro, 580. Scandiscope, (machine for cleaning chimneys,) engraving of, 617. Scarborough, earl of, 1376. Schism, intended bill against, notice of, 1061. Schomberg, Marshal, 1375. Schoolmasters, tradition of a boy murdered by one, 1371. Science, poetry called the Gay Science, and a college for encouraging it at Toulouse, 602; science outdoes juggling, 780. Scorpions, continued and appalling visions about, 1578. Scotland, curious political drama acted before the court of, 15; superstitions in, 684; humorous account of the first pigs in, 1113. Scottish songs, essay on, 713; list of, 717. Scripture, application of, 1320; curious notice about inscriptions in churches, 1367. Sea, stilling its waves by oil, 192, 254; reflections on the sea, 1258. Sealing-wax, account of, 263. Seals, engravings of seals of London, 258, 881. Sebastian, Don, belief of the Portuguese in his coming, 87. Sedan-chairs, notice of, 901. Sedgemoor, battle of, 910. Sele, Howel, notice of, 1027, 1028. Sermons, a singular one on 30th January, 149; preaching of at Paul’s Cross, 414, 415; singular title-page of one, 478. Serpentine river, skating on, 17. Servants, a letter written to one on parting, 187; rules for them, 226; periodical hirings of them described, 669; treatment of them in harvest, 1158, 1160. Severndroog castle and tower, 488. Seville, celebration of certain religious ceremonies in, 392, 405, 421, 436. Sewers, common, notice of a boar lost in one, 1113. Seymour, Arabella, (Arabella Stuart,) notice and autograph of, 730. Shaftesbury, custom at, 641. Shakerley, aunt, ludicrous picture of, 1545. Shakspeare, anecdote concerning, 522. Shaving, on passing the Line, sailors’ custom of, 1394. Shaw, Hugh, aged 113, notice of, 1007. Sheep-shearing, notice and engraving of, 721, 787. Sheffield, custom at, 1259. Shelley, sir J., laudable practice of, 23. Shenstone, William, poet, died, 222. Shepherds on Salisbury Plain, indolence of, 984. Sherborne, bells in, notice of, 745, 1255; Pack-Monday fair in, 1307. Shergold, lottery office-keepers, notices of, 1454, 1496. Sheridan, R. B., 1251. Sherwood Forest, scene of Robin Hood’s adventures, 1637. Shirts, specimen of pride about, 859. Shoemakers, customs among, 471, 901, 1054, 1055. Shoes, notice of shoes and buckles, 1354; hiding presents in shoes and slippers, 1598; engraving of a lady’s old shoe and clog, 1685. Shore, Jane, notice of, 417. Showers, supposed of blood, explanation of, 1127. Showman, engraving of the German showman, 1329. Shropshire, crying the mare in, 1163. Shrove Monday, and peas and pork, 282. ---- Tuesday, notice and customs of, 196, 256. Sidney, sir Philip, notice of his oak, 1033. Signs on alehouses, 789. Singlestick or backsword, 1341, 1399. Sisters, the Biddenden, engraving and account of, 442, &c. Sistine Chapel at Rome, grand religious pageants in, 396, 435. Sixpence, anecdote of a lost one, 1575. Skaith Saw, or gruel against witchcraft still made and sold at Falkirk, 688. Skating, earliest notice of in England, 116; people of Edinburgh skilled in, 117. Skeleton, a curious present of one, 1560. Sky island, custom of, 866. Slaves in West Indies in 1736, 1304. Sleep, how to obtain in cold weather, 95; walking in, cases of, 1296. Sleeper, an extraordinary one, 96. Slippers and shoes, hiding presents in, 1598. Smart, Mr. G., receives two gold medals for machines for cleaning chimneys, 623. Smith, Mr. J., a date in Panyer Alley engraved in wood by, 1134, 1135. Snails, predicting fortunes by, in Scotland, 385. Snow, great fall of in 1814, 101; blue and pink shades of, 72; accounts of women lost in, 177, 395. Societies, united one of Master Chimney-sweepers established in London, 619; also a Gymnastic Society, 1568; Cecilian Society, _ib._ Somersetshire, receipt for making Somersetshire bacon, 813; custom about laying out lands in, 917. Somnambulism, cases of, 1297. Songs, Scottish, essay on, 713. Sops and ale, local custom of, 693. Sotheby and Leigh, booksellers, notice of, 696. South Downs, custom in, 1562. Spectator, (The,) ridicule of lotteries in, 1437. Spectres. See Apparitions. Spider (field) notice and calculation about its gossamer, 1188, 1332. Spilsbury, Mr., notice of, 1486. “Spirit’s blasted tree, The,” in Wales notice and engraving of, 1023. Spurzheim and Gall, Drs., notice of, 1122. Squires, old English, their houses and mode of living, 1620-1624. Staines (Middlesex) church, singular spectacle at, 1225. Stationers’ Hall, St. Cecilia’s feast at, 1567. Steevens, G. A., anecdote of, 224. Stiles, (field) inconveniences and pleasures of, 903. Stockings, finding presents in, 1598. Stone, (The Martyr’s) at Hadleigh, 212. Stools, shoemakers’ amusement with, 901. Storms, in 1826, 1130; at Enghien, 1235; at Wigton, 1299. Story-telling, custom of, 599; its value in winter, 1617. Strand May-pole, 660. Street entertainments, 1319, &c. Stroud, abundance of earwigs at, in 1755, 1099. ----, sir William, convicted of swindling, 45. Stuart, Arabella, (Arabella Seymour,) notice and autograph of, 734. Stubbins, Dr., anecdote concerning, 1392. Students, curious instance of one, 1068. Studley, Royal, Yorkshire, description of, 1061. Study, peculiar mode of pursuing, 1267. Subscription for relief of distress, notice of, 1111. Suffolk, customs in, 1165. Sugar-cuppers, in Derbyshire, notice of, 451. ---- -hogshead with boys, description and engraving of, 1542, 1543. Suicide, through lotteries, 1447, 1466, 1494; reasons against, 1591. Sun, kindling fires in honour of. See Fires. Sunday, harvesting on, in Scotland, 1156. Sunsets in England, 1185. Surgeon-barbers, curious notice concerning, 758. Surrey hills, spring walk on, 557. Sussex, new year’s day in, 23. Sutton, sir R., expelled the Commons, 1451. ---- T., founder of the White Conduit, 1201. ---- the prize-fighter, notice of, 780. Sydenham, Mr., land-lottery of, 1446. Swaffham, in Norfolk, custom of, 222. Swallows in 1826, 492; notice of swallow-singing or cheldonizing, 1111; swallows at Rotherham, 1295. Swan with two necks, explanation of, 958. Swans, accounts of swanhopping, and order for the same by the statutes and customs, 914, 958; a vicious swan, 955; their power to contend with frost, 965; notice of their supposed death-song, 964. Swearing at Highgate. See Highgate.

Table Book, The, a work to succeed the Every-Day Book, 1664. Tale-bearing, how punished, 1562. Tangiers, in Africa, celebration of Easter at, 455. Tanner, Dr., manuscripts lost by, 1617. Tasker, William, died, 212. Taylor, Dr. Rowland, martyred, 212. ---- the Whitworth doctor, 477. Tea-kettle, trick with, 774. Temple Sowerby, Westmoreland, custom in, 599. Tenants, a remarkable one, 1256. Tenures, an annual jocular one, 21. Tetbury, 1561. Texts inscribed in churches, 1367. Thames, river, frozen over in 1814, 109. Thanet, isle of, custom of, 1643. Thieves, application for licence to kill them, 1189; a remarkable one, 1242; Robin Hood, the Prince of Thieves, 1637. Thompson, J., fraud of, 1450. Thorn, the Glastonbury, 1641. Threekingham, or Laundon, Lincolnshire, notice of, 1246. Thunder clouds, dreadful one at Java, 1082. Thunny fishing, 647. Thurlow, lord, letter of, 498. Tickets, lottery, same number twice sold, 1460; divided with great minuteness, _ib._ See Lottery. Times, old, notice of, 1301. Tissington, Derbyshire, custom of dressing wells in, 636. Toad-stools, singular connection of subjects with, 518. Toast, sugared, at lyings-in, 1333. Tobacco, article on, 397. Todd, James, death of, by a flying machine, 1291. Toddingham, sir T., singular letter of the famous earl of Warwick to, 1403. Toulouse, establishments or customs at, 600, 602. Tourant, Michael, aged 98, notice of, 1211. Towers, notice of old London watch tower, and an engraving, 619; notice of Lammas towers made of sods, 1051. Tracy, sir W., 932, &c. Tradesmen, emblem for, 1327. Trafalgar, battle of, 1343, 1356. Travelling, in Ireland, 239, &c.; cheap, curious plan for, 791. Trees, engraving of “the Spirit’s blasted tree” in Wales, 1023; revivification of trees, 233. See Oaks. Trial of weights and measures, 127. Trials, ludicrous one of farmer Carter’s dog, 188; burlesque ones, 233; trial of the dog of Heriot’s hospital, 758; an aged witness at, 1602; “Trial of the Royal Oak Lottery,” a satire called, 1423. Trigg, Henry, curious will of, 1325. Turkey-cock, Garrick earnestly imitating one, 61. Turner, Dr. Dawson, his account of the pageant of the assumption at Rouen, 1092. Turnstiles, notice of, 905. Turpentine tree, the, notice of, 1034. Tusks, elephants’, matters found imbedded in, 337. Tutbury, honour of, custom of, 807. Tweed, river of, peculiarity of, 270. Twelfth day, &c., 28, &c. Twelvepenny lottery, 1446. Twickenham, custom at, 449.

Upstarts, description of one, 1623.

Vacina, or Vacuna, goddess of rest, 1160. Valentine’s day and eve, customs on, 222, &c. Vane, sir H., representatives of, 1378. Vaughan, sir R., notice of his park and manor, 1024, &c. Vauxhall gardens, 611, 783; minor Vauxhall, (White Conduit-house,) 1204. Vega, Lopez de, died, notice of, 1132. Vernon, admiral, notice of, 1392. Vice, a personage in the old mysteries, 501. Victor’s, St., abbey, 998. Village May-pole, engraving of, 593. Villeloin, abbé, curious remark of, 1141. Villiers, sir Edward, 1376. Vincent, Mr., musician, notice of, 1568. Virginia, in America, lottery for, 1612. Visions in dreams, remarks on relative to the blind, 1540.

Wadeley, lady, aged 105, notice of, 880. Wafers, account of, 265. Waites, Christmas, 1645. Wakes, singular directions about one, 165. Wales, superstitious intimations of death in, 1019; description of a Welch baptism, 1613. Walking, extraordinary, 1293. Wallace, sir William, executed, 1110. Walton, Isaac, motto to his book on angling, and advertisement of the first edition, 1313. Wandsworth, Garrett near, election of a mayor for, 819, 824. Warkworth, ash meadow in, custom at, 1179. Warren and Cann, wrestling match of, 1338. Warwick, custom at, 869. ----, earl of, Lawless court belonging to, 12; curious letter from Guy the kingmaker, 1403. Washerwomen, nocturnal, apparitions of, 978. Wassail, 7. Watch-tower (old) of London-wall, engravings relative to, 629. Watson, rev. J., remarkable sermon of, 149. Wax (sealing) account of, 263. Weald of Kent, origin of the term, 450. Weather-guide, cheap, 491. Weavers of Blackburn, memorial of their wretched state, 562. Weber, Carl Maria Von, died, and notice of, 766. Wedding, dress for one in 1550, 797. Welch baptism, description of, 1613. Wellington under the Wrekin, custom of, 599. Wells, the freeman’s well at Alnwick, 249; custom of dressing wells, 636; rebukes and sentences in Scotland for going to them for cures, 686; an old one at Pentonville, 1199. Welner, J., a German chemist, anecdote of, 635. Wesley, J., his first pulpit, 1564. West, the, wonder of, notice and engraving of, 1631. ---- Indies, state of slaves in, in 1736, 1304. ----, Benj., painter, engraving and autograph of, 366. Westbury, custom at, 1333. Westminster, notice of an election for, 854. -----bridge, lottery for, 1451. Westmoreland, custom in, 450. Wetting the block, custom of, 471. Wheel, lottery, engraving of, 1439; case of a ticket sticking in the wheel, 1454. Whichmore, Staffordshire, custom at, 807. Whig, old, description a newspaper so called, 1301. “Whims and Oddities,” notice of, and cuts from, 1537, &c. Whipping, curious action at law for _not_ being whipped, 1389. White Conduit, the, at Pentonville, engraving and notice of, 1197, 1202. White, --, his curious address to the devil, 1239. ----, rev. B., his account of various ceremonies at Seville, 405, 421, 436. Whitefield, G., his first pulpit, 1564. Whitehaven, customs at, 1645. Whitsuntide, 663. Whittaker, C., his charity at Birmingham, 1627. Whittle, Jemmy, 542. Whitworth, doctor, the, notice of, 477. Wigan, Lancashire, abundance of gossamer at, 331. Wigs, a glass one, 1196. William III., centenary of his landing, 1374; notices of some of the king’s followers, 1371, &c. Willis, Dr. Browne, his autograph, and anecdotes of him, 292, 295, 296. Wills, duchess of Exeter’s, 531; a curious one of H. Trigg, 1325. Wiltshire, customs in, 1207, 1399. Wimble, Will, of the Spectator, (Mr. T. Morecroft,) notice of, 897. Winchester college, anecdote, 710. Windsor, St. George’s chapel at, completed by sir R. Bray, 1072. Winnold fair, Norfolk, 283. Winter in town, 48. Wisbech, St. Mary, fête at, 882. Witchcraft, notices of, 181, 1328; Margaret and Phillis Flower executed for, 371; still much credited in Scotland, 685, 688. Witheridge, the pretended Caraboo born at, 1638. Withrington, earl, Camberwell beadle a descendant from, 1564. Wives, mortality of, in Essex and Kent, 923; sale of her dead husband by one, 1301. Women, riders at horse-racing, 1061; custom at their lyings-in, 1333; lottery for, in India, 1518; Ledyard’s interesting character of, 1614. Wonder of the west, engraving and notice of, 1631. Wood, Mr. alderman, 1389. ---- Mr., his speculation about iron, 520. Woodcock, Elizabeth, buried in a snow storm, 175. Woodstock, notice of the novel called, and history of the good devil of, 582. Wolverhampton fair, 939. Woolcombers, deserted by St. Blase, 1560. Woolley, James, the miser of Loscoe, notice of, 1192. Worms, Palmer, notice of, 1128. Worcestershire, custom in, 1576. Wraiths and fetches, notice of, 1111, &c. Wrestling, sir T. Parkyns, author of a book on, sculptured on his monument as wrestling with death, 874; different modes of wrestling, 1009; wrestling at the Eagle tavern, 1333; for a boar’s head at Christmas, 1649. Wright, rev. --, in Scotland, and presbytery of Ayr, notice of, 1157. Writing, hand, curious instances of, 1215. Writing ink, receipts for, 265, 266.

Yardley, Mr., a fraudulent debtor, 1241. Yarmouth dinners, custom at, 636. Year, the, riddle on, 26. Yenlet creek, notice of, 924. Yeomen of the guard, instituted in 1485, 1351. York, duke of, anecdote about his celebrated speech, 1575. Yorkshire, customs in, 21, 548.

II. INDEX TO ROMISH SAINTS.

Afra, August 7. Apollonia, February 9. Botolph, June 17. Cecilia, November 22. Concord, January 2. David, March 1. Declan, July 28. Denys, October 9. Edward, March 18. George, April 23. Hugh, November 17. James, July 25. John Baptist, July 24, and August 29. Leonard, November 6. Magdalen, July 22. Margaret, July 20. Mark, April 25. Martha, July 29. Matthias, February 24. Maurice, September 22. Michael, September 29. Patrick, March 17. Surin, or Severin, October 23. Veronica, January 13. Victor, July 21. Winwaloe, March 3.

III. INDEX TO THE POETRY.

ORIGINAL, _By_

Anonymous, 900. A small Bookseller, 186. B. S. G. S., 615. B. W. R., 1244. C. T., 916, 1212. A Correspondent, 900. A Gentleman of Cambridge, 1367. A Gentleman of Literary Habits, 24. H., 942. Jackson, S. R., 119. J. J., 1151. J. O. W., 44. J. P., 884. J. R. P., 1041. J. W., 784. Jennings, J., 1138. Lander, H. M., 709, 1100. May, Cornelius, 898. Prior, J. R., 709, 1141, 1213. Pulci, 494. S. R. J., 646, 818, 1100, 1310, 1342. *, *, P., 983, 1071, 1630. A small Bookseller, 187. Tomlinson, C., 1211. W. T. M., 1227, ib., 1580, 1590, 1596. X., 434.

ORIGINAL, _By * The Editor_.

The Christmas Days, 30. “The king drinks,” 31. Dr. Busby’s chair, 34. Paul Pry’s Song, 51. Seasonable refreshment, 59. Swearing on the horns at Highgate, 79. Lark-shooting in France, 91. Skating on the Serpentine, 98. February, 170. Elizabeth Woodcock, 175. Dr. Browne Willis, 193. Travelling in Ireland, 239. March, 273. Merriment in March, 290. Affectionate brothers, 314. The “Common People,” 314. Disdain of Unfeelingness, 318. Elephant killed at Exeter Change, 321. April, 479. May, 567. Country May-pole, 575. Milkmaids’ dance, 591. Duke of Baubleshire, 679. June, 722. Mock election for Garrett, 840. July, 890. Summer scene in the Potteries, 994. August, 1047. Harvest home, 1153. September, 1183. Baron Brown, 1217. Hammersmith pump, 1231. October, 1281. German showman, 1330. November, 1362. The last Lottery, 1406. The “Old General,” 1570. December, 1586. The Table Book, 1664.

AUTHORS CITED.

Bamfylde, 1644. Beattie, 662. Beaumont and Fletcher, 1272. Bidlake, 490. Blake, 626. Bloomfield, 658. Bowles, Rev. W. L., 138, 1150. Bowring, 787, 880. Brown, baron, 1223, &c. Brown, Hawkins, 399. Burns, 715. Byron, lord, 400, 1078, 1101. Chaucer, 578. Clare, 288, 318, 320, ib. Corbet, Bp., 1390. Daniel, 1103. Darrell, Dr., 293. Darwin, 72. Dibdin, C., 72, 504, 1062, 1364. Donne, 354. Drummond, Dr. H., 212. Dyer, 276, 640. Dryden, 148, 150, 579. Edwards, J., 638. Elton, C. A., 1150. Ferguson, 17. Filicaia, 368. Garrick, D., 1352. Gay, 356, 594, 596, 607. Geweaux, 400. Glover, 1392, 1393. Goldsmith, 662, 905. Grahame, 5, 47, 164, 1178. Herrick, 1159, 1319. Hood, T., 1548, 1552. Howitt, 484, _ib._, 528, 1277. Hunt, L., 580. Hurdis, 728. Jonson, B., 530, 608, 728, 1033, 1630. Keats, J., 250. Kleist, 496. Landon, Miss, 42, 614. Leslie, 614. Leyden, J., 173. Love, David, 229. Lovelace, col. R., 561. Manners, lady, 1104. Menecrates, 494. Moore, T., 143, 767, 1146. Milton, 640. Montgomery, 528, 1396. Naogeorgus, 136, 197, 663, 693, 1080, 1090, 1370, 1597. Nichols, John, 1640. Ovid, 598, _ib._, 729. Philips, 1270. Phœnix of Colophon, 1111. Polwhele, 7. Prior, 606. Pughe, Dr. W. O., 1615. Radcliffe, Mrs., 1022. Reynolds, J. H., 1234. Robinson, Mrs., 1174. Ryan, R., 530. Sannazaro, 580. Scott, 1023, 1094. Shakspeare, 1026. Smart, 1182. Somerville, 357. Southey, 1033, 1094. Southwell, 1157. Spenser, 2. Stevens, J. L., 578. Swift, 1302. Theognis, 1111. Thomson, 362, 490, 888, 1190. Tusser, 1158, 1173. Virgil, 147, 150. Vincent, Rev. J., 1191. Warner, 136. White, H. K., 666. Warrington, Rev. G., 1028. Whistlecraft, 1650. Wilford, B., 574, 770, 868. Willis, Browne, 297. Wordsworth, 115, 285, 286.

WORKS CITED.

Alexander and the King of Egypt, 1646. Bellman’s Treasury, 1594, 1626, 1627, 1636, 1644. Caps well fit, 439. Colonial Advocate, 713, 714, &c. Evans’s old Ballads, 741. Examiner, 368. Fables, by Thomas Brown the younger, 1042. Gentleman’s Magazine, 174, 694, 982, 990. Grub-street Journal, 158. Hood’s, T., Whims and Oddities, 1548, &c. Lady’s Scrap-book, 472. Leonidas of Tarentum, 510. Literary Pocket-book, 720. Morning Chronicle, 1204. Morning Herald, 100, 630. New Monthly Magazine, 42, 1556, 1663. Nichols’s Collections, 164. Perennial Calendar, 119, 162, 876. Poetical Calendar, 1166. Poor Robin, 486, 678, 1383. Post Boy, 1422. Times, The, 1146. Widow’s Tale, 499.

ANONYMOUS.

8, 10, 14, 30, 111, 135, 185, 186, 233, 239, 378, 387, 399, 429, 556, 557, 570, 571, _ib._, 572, 573, 590, _ib._, 594, 596, 608, 624, 711, 837, 896, 939, 967, 990, 1011, 1018, 1029, 1102, 1185, _ib._, 1188, 1190, 1276, 1285, 1315, 1328, 1350, 1377, 1381, 1386, 1453, 1456, 1459, 1493, 1503, 1504, 1506, 1507, 1509, 1510, 1517, 1519, 1524, 1551, 1585, 1594, _ib._, 1595, 1596, 1616, 1626, 1627.

IV. CORRESPONDENTS’ INDEX.

A., 539, 574, 733. A. O. B., 595. A Reader, 1584. An Admirer of the Every-day Book, 1645. An Essex Man, 1172. Alpha, 457. B. S. G. S., 615. Brandon, Henry, 710, 1635. Browne, J. Francis, 1215. C. C----y, M. R. C. S. E., 467, 1142. C. L., 515, 842. C. T., 599, 916, 1103, 1207, 1210, 1379, 1399, 1649. D., 1217. Dewhurst, Henry William, 668. Doowruh, W., 683. E. S. F., 911. E. W. W., 535. Eta, 496. An Exonian, 1652. Fumo, 397. G., 1571. G. B., 917. G. J., 1105. G. H. I., 1166. Gulielmus, 1259. Gwilym Sais, 1615. H., 636, 903, 942. H. B., 1336. H. H. N. N., 161. Honeycomb, Will, 432. I. E----tt, 531. Ignotus, 1649. I. J. T., 1116, 1155, 1334. J., 557. J. B., 448. J. D., 1613. J. E. ---- T. T., 531. J. F., 491, 494, 1043. J. G., 29. J. H., 542, 1248. J. H. B., 1111, 1275, 1653. J. H. C., 955. J. H. H., 91. J. J. A. F., 442, 797, 929, 1060, 1518. J. J. T., 1116, 1155, 1334. J. K. S., 659. J. L., 881. J. O. W., 43. J. P., 478, 548, 882. J. R. P., 374, 792, 1583. J. S., 23, 660. J. S. Junior, 74. J. W., 553. J. W. H., 455. J----n, J----k----n, 1655. Jackson, S. R., 118. Jehoiada, 1559, 1562. Jennings, James, 1136. Johnson, Benjamin, 367, 370, 729, 791. K., 223, 283, 669. Kier, Robert, 484. Lander, H. M., 709, 1100. Lector, 789. N. G., 913. N. N., 1599. An Old Correspondent, 1606. P., 1059, 1374. P. P., Jun., 609. Parallel Barrister, 653. Pasche, 377. Paul Pry, 49. Peakril, A, 451. Prior, J. R., 707, 931, 815. R. A. R., 1170. R. H. E., 139. R. J., 256. R. R., 1156. R. S., 665. R. T., 744, 1037, 1255, 1307. Reddock, John Wood, 13. S. G., 1347. S. M., 1163. S. P., 54. S. R., 907. S. R. J., 815, 907. Sam Sam’s Son, 650, 969, 1008. Selits, 1576. A Shoemaker, 470, 1045. Sleafordensis, 1246. A Small Bookseller, 186. *, *, P., 1269, 1291, 1341, 1351, 1628. Sykes, John, 689. T. A., 249, 375, 413, 532, 1565. T. B., 1661. T. W. L., 858, 861. Thomas, S., 185. W. H., 472, 767. W. H. H., 1596. W. P., 599, 936. W. S., 122, 379, 504. W. W., 1627. Z., 1634.

V. INDEX

TO THE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE ENGRAVINGS CONTAINED IN THE VOLUME.

1 ALMANACK, the “Clog,” Frontispiece. 2 Adalberonis, (Caput sancti,) 1073. 3 April, 479. 4 Avingham, riding the fair at, 1655. 5 August, 1047. 6 Autumnal dress in the fourteenth century, 1342.

7 Baubleshire, duke of, 679. 8 Beadle, (parish,) 129. 9 Becket, St. Thomas à, 929. 10 Ben, old General, of Nottingham, 1569. 11 Biddenden Sisters, the, 443. 12 Boscobel House, 697. 13 ---- ----, another view, 699. 14 Boys, street images of, 315. 15 Brown, (Baron,) the Durham poet, 1217. 16 Busby, Dr., his chair, 33.

17 Calves-head club, 159. 18 Car (common travelling) in Ireland, 242. 19 Caraboo, or the wonder of the west, 1631. 20 ----, another engraving, 1634. 21 Carving, ancient, 497. 22 Cat; street image of one, 312. 23 Chimney-sweeper (a machine) 617. 24 ---- ---- another, 624. 25 Christ’s effigy sent to Abgarus, 63. 26 Cobblers’ festival at Paris, 1055. 27 ---- ---- another engraving, 1057. 28 Cooke, Sir G., M. P. for Garrett, 830. 29 Cupid, popular representation of, 1545.

30 December, 1585. 31 Dog on trial, 199. 32 Dolmoors, marks for allotting grounds so called, 921. 33 Dream of human faces, 1537. 34 Dunmow, custom about flitch of bacon, 799. 35 ---- taking the oath at, 801. 36 Dunstan, sir Jeffrey, M. P. for Garrett, 829. 37 Effigy in Panyer-alley, 1135. 38 Elephant at Exeter-change, 321. 39 ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- den of, 335. 40 ---- killed at Geneva, 705. 41 Emerson, W., autograph of, 690. 42 Execution of farmer Carter’s dog for murder, 199.

43 February, 169. 44 Fountain in June, 785.

45 Garrett, mock election for, 839. 46 ---- ---- ---- ---- another engraving, 851. 47 George (St.) and the dragon, 1272. 48 German showman, 1329. 49 Grain measure, 126. 50 Gymnastic exercises, 657.

51 Hampden, John, autographs of, 475. 52 Harvest home, at Hawkesbury, 1153. 53 Heriot, George, hospital founded by 751. 54 ---- ---- his statue, 753. 55 ---- ---- his arms, 913. 56 ---- ---- his autograph, ib.

57 Irish car, 242. 58 Islington old church (St. Mary) 505. 59 Ivanovitch (Vassili) a Russian prince, 548.

60 Jack o’ the green, 577. 61 January, 1. 62 Jenkins, Henry, 1601. 63 Jones, John, of Wandsworth, 821. 64 July, 890. 65 June, 721.

66 “The king drinks,” 31.

67 Lance (holy) 430. 68 Lark-shooting in France, 91. 69 Laughing boy, 543. 70 Leverian Museum, 986. 71 ---- ---- ticket, 991. 72 London, mayoralty seal of, 257. 73 ---- Edward First’s seal for port of, 881. 74 ---- an old watch-tower of, 629. 75 ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- explanatory engraving, _ib._ 76 Lottery, drawing of, at Guildhall, 1019. 77 ---- the last stage of the last, 1407. 78 ---- horseback, 1408. 79 ---- another, from a lottery bill, 1409. 80 ---- wheel, 1439. 81 ---- drawing of prizes in, 1441. 82 ---- bills, the kitchen-maid from, 1503. 83 ---- the cook-maid, 1503. 84 ---- the successful footman, 1503. 85 ---- the starved apothecary, 1519. 86 ---- over-danced man, 1519. 87 ---- milkmaid, 1520. 88 ---- Nobody, 1520. 89 Love, David, 225

90 Mansfield, Lord, his autograph, 396. 91 March, 273. 92 ---- merriment in, 289. 93 Martyr’s stone at Hadleigh, 211. 94 Matthews (Mr.) at home, 465. 95 May, 567. 96 May-dew dancers at Arthur’s seat, Edinburgh, 610. 97 May-garland (Northampton) 615. 98 ---- pole (country) 575. 99 ---- ---- (planting the village) 593. 100 Mercury, 1327. 101 Michael, St. 1271. 102 Milkmaids’ dance, 591. 103 Minerva, 463. 104 Monkeys in an oyster-shop, 59. 105 “My son, sir,” 1542.

106 Necton Guild, 671. 107 New River at Hornsey, 1311. 108 Ninepenny Marl, 983. 109 November, 1361.

110 October, 1281.

111 Parrot; street image of one, 311. 112 Patrick’s (St.) day, 383. 113 Paul Pry in the character of Mr. Liston, 49. 114 Paul’s Cross, preaching at, on Good Friday, 414. 115 Plants, machine for determining the gradual increase of, 186. 116 Potteries, (the,) a summer scene in, 993. 117 Price, Charles, the arch-impostor, 1473. 118 ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- another engraving, 1474. 119 Procession of the Scald Miserables, 524. 120 Pump at Hammersmith, 1231.

121 Refreshment, seasonable, 59. 122 Richard III., his well, 1105. 123 Roman station at Pentonville, 1199. 124 ---- ---- ---- ---- another engraving, _ib._ 125 ---- ---- at Pancras, 1345.

126 September, 1183. 127 Seymour, [before Stuart,] Arabella, autograph of, 733. 128 Shawsware (Coya) a Persian merchant; his tomb, 1079. 129 Shoe and clog, old lady’s, 1635. 130 Skating on the Serpentine, 97. 131 Spirit’s (the) blasted tree, 1023. 132 Street images in 1826, 315. 133 Sugar hogshead, with boys about it, 1543. 134 Swearing on the horns at Highgate, 79.

135 Travelling in Ireland, 239.

136 “Very deaf, indeed,” 1553.

137 Wassail bowl, 7. 138 Weights and measures, trial of, under Henry VII., 127. 139 West, Benjamin, 366. 140 ---- ---- his autograph, _ib._ 141 Willis, Dr. (bishop of Winchester,) his autograph, 296. 142 ---- Dr. Browne, his portrait, 193. 143 ---- ---- ---- his autograph, 295. 144 White Conduit (the), 1201. 145 Woodcock, Elizabeth, 175.

FINIS.

_J. Haddon, Printer, Castle Street, Finsbury._

Transcriber’s Notes

General remarks

This e-text follows the text of the original work. Inconsistencies and unusual spelling have been retained; French and German accents and diacriticals have not been added, except as mentioned below.

The source document was mostly, but not entirely, printed in two columns, with each column having its own column number. For this e-text these columns have been combined into a single page; the page numbering used in this e-text (not available in all formats) therefore consists of two column numbers per page, as in [151, 152].

Depending on the hard- and software used and their settings, some characters or other elements may not display as intended.

The original work has several gaps where numbers are missing or have deliberately been left out; these are represented here as blanks.

Several entries in the indexes do not refer to the correct pages, and some entries are inconsistent in their references; these have not been corrected, unless mentioned below.

Volume I and Volume III are available at Project Gutenberg as well (www.gutenberg.org).

Specific remarks

Page 25/26, footnote [13]: Blount’s Plug. Antiq. by Beckwith probably refers to Beckwith’s edition of Blount’s Fragmenta Antiquitatis.

Page 92, a wilder climate: probabbly an error for a milder climate.

Page 99, the entire of this canal: there is probably a word missing (... entire length ... or similar).

Page 149, for some years last past: as printed in the source.

Page 156, “the late Dr. Sharp ...: closing quotes are missing from the source.

Page 265, brand wel en vast houd: verbatim as in the source, even though the Dutch does not seem correct.

Page 345, upon dying: possibly an error for upon drying.

Page 377, Mean Temperature: the tenths of degrees are missing from the source.

Page 420, Joseph of Arimatlian: probably an error for Joseph of Arimathea.

Page 513, To the reader: since the various numbers and parts are not important for the single volume work and difficult to identify, they have not been marked up, nor have hyperlinks been provided.

Page 579, “is this to Arcite’s leaping ...: there is no corresponding closing quote in the source.

Page 582, ... that “Woodstock would have been ...: closing quotes are lacking in the source.

Page 631-636, footnotes: the footnotes in the poem differ from those in the remainder of the text; this has been retained.

Page 829/830, 841/842 and 1709/1710: the first illustration on page 829/830 is of sir Harry Dimsdale (as corrected on page 841/842), the second of sir Jeffery Dunstan; this is in agreement with illustrations from other sources. The list of illustrations (page 1709/1710) gives the first illustration as being of Jeffery Dunstan, and the second as being of sir G. Cooke, M.P. for Garrett, who is not mentioned elsewhere in the book. All of these captions and texts have been retained.

Page 1044, fawchon: other sources have falchion.

Page 1073, ... appears was ...: as printed in the source.

Page 1079/1080, ... exactly reduced fac-simile representation ...: the inscription only superficially resembles the inscription in the “Survey.”.

Page 1120, “the lords of the treasury: there is no matching closing quote in the source.

Page 1146, Tredbuchet: as in original.

Page 1273, ... at S. Ceour and S. Germain des Prez: a verbatim quote as printed in the Theater of Honour.

Page 1293, erratum: the correction has been made to the text on page 1270.

Page 1330, ... a “high sight” of the court: it is not clear to which picture this refers.

Page 1375, lord of Zuletstein: the correct spelling is lord of Zuylestein, Zuylenstein or Zuilestein.

Page 1397/1398, footnote [426]: It is not clear to what this refers in Vol. i., unless to St. Brice.

Page 1409, ... great N^{o} of good prices: as printed in source.

Page 1420, by the following proposals:”: the quote mark seems out of place.

Page 1550, ... is inserted in this volume: i.e. in Hood’s book, not in the “Every-Day Book”.

Page 1562, ‘farthings will amount: the corresponding closing quote is missing from the source.

Page 1584, P. S. and letter from A READER: the corrections have been made in the text.

Page 1597, ... money usde to give: as printed in the source, and in other sources.

Page 1605/1606, footnote [527]: the first digit in the reference to Fosbroke is illegible in the source.

Page 1683/1684, Hedgehogs: ... in 939. should probably read ... in 1826, 939.

Page 1709/1710, 829/830, and 841/842: the first illustration on page 829/830 is of sir Harry Dimsdale (as corrected on page 841/842), the second of sir Jeffery Dunstan; this is in agreement with illustrations from other sources. The list of illustrations (page 1709/1710) gives the first illustration as being of Jeffery Dunstan, and the second as being of sir G. Cooke, M.P. for Garrett, who is not mentioned elsewhere in the book.

Changes and corrections made

General

Obvious minor punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected silently.

Footnotes have been moved to the end of the calendar day.

Directions (S.E. and S. E. etc.) have been standardised to S. E.; A.D./B.C and A. D./B. C. have been standardised to A. D./B. C. The decimal point in the mean temperatures has been standardised to ·; spaces around the decimal point have been removed. All l. s. d. have been italicised.

Contractions such as had’nt etc. have been standardised to hadn’t etc.

The correspondent’s “name” *, *, P., *. *. P. etc. has been standardised to *, *, P.

Several instances of NATURALIST’S CALENDAR have been changed to NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Specific corrections and changes

Page 4: to 3·40 in. changed to to 30·40 in.

Page 73/74: artic changed to arctic

Page 115: heeded not the summons changed to I heeded not the summons

Page 118: p. 93 changed to p. 91

Page 123: “Room, a room ... changed to Room, a room

Page 123-126: lay-out of the play modified slightly for consistency

Page 135: liens from Barnaby Googe changed to lines from Barnaby Googe

Page 149/150: ” added after Æneid, b. xi. l. 230.

Page 152: ‘Temple’s Irish Rebellion’ changed to Temple’s ‘Irish Rebellion’

Page 157: Westminter changed to Westminster

Page 167: “ deleted from before Now the Christmas holidays ...

Page 196: ” added after ... liable to contagion.

Page 268: ” added after ... and my God.

Page 306: ... arms in your house.” changed to ... arms in your house.’

Page 307: ’ deleted after ... so they parted.

Page 320: ” added after ... the daisy, &c. &c.

Page 363: ” deleted after ... four times that sum.

Page 375: Frieschütz changed to Freischütz

Page 379: ” added after ... the Cornish say) and I;

Page 381: scite changed to site

Page 383: in (Ireland) changed to (in Ireland)

Page 398: ... says, this genus is named ... changed to ... says, “This genus is named ...; á tous maux changed to à tous maux

Page 401/402, footnote [86]: animo changed to anima; ” removed before containing portraits ...

Page 407: cofrad’ias changed to cofradías

Page 409: footnote [90] inserted (verified with the Project Gutenberg edition of Doblado’s letters)

Page 450: A Pope changed to A. Pope

Page 461: ectasy changed to ecstasy

Page 462: ought of sight changed to out of sight

Page 541: ” added after Robert Amory

Page 590: finely powered changed to finely powdered

Page 593/594: des beaux jour changed to des beaux jours

Page 600: Thus much changed to This much

Page 602: ” added after Gay Science

Page 634: second footnote anchor (_m_) changed to (_nn_)

Page 636: p. 651, 641 changed to p. 651, 643

Page 640: From this ancient usage changed to “From this ancient usage; closing quote added after Milton.

Page 643: desert knife changed to dessert knife

Page 656: I inserted before remain, Sir, &c.

Page 699: princess Amelia and Caroline changed to princesses Amelia and Caroline

Page 701: which in printed changed to which is printed

Page 717: ” removed after ... wi’ ’m to believe me.

Page 733: June 3, 1611....: changed from regular paragraph to section heading in small capitals

Page 771: goút changed to goût; desert changed to dessert

Page 789: I having been induced ... changed to I have been induced ...

Page 797: ” added after total amount (271 4)

Page 804: ” added after ... acclamations, following.

Page 875/876, footnote [225]: 789 changed to 1789

Page 973: sains changed to saints

Page 978: which thought changed to which she thought

Page 1018: bady changed to baby

Page 1028: ” added after ... as more generally used.

Page 1036: Languedoe changed to Languedoc

Page 1059: and the mobility changed to and the nobility

Page 1060: “ inserted before TO BE RUN FOR.

Page 1073/1074: Adalderonis changed to Adalberonis; Ausburg changed to Augsburg

Page 1082: Cheribou changed to Cheribon

Page 1100: “Tis fitter changed to ’Tis fitter

Page 1107: “ inserted before ... which was scarcely finished

Page 1135: parrallel changed to parallel

Page 1140: ” inserted after ... afraid of the people

Page 1182, missing footnote [322]: footnote text added from the two-volume edition of the book

Page 1197: “ added before inhabitiveness

Page 1207: from a child it; changed to from a child; it

Page 1235 and 1237: Enghein changed to Enghien

Page 1239: ’ moved from after turned himself to sleep to after I have; unfold newspapers changed to unsold newspapers

Page 1270: he shaking changed to the shaking (cf. erratum page 1293)

Page 1327/1328: to the his last Will changed to to be his last Will

Page 1352: short and long-stage changed to short- and long-stage

Page 1371: Bradenstock-abbey changed to Bradenstoke-priory (cf. errata page 1584)

Page 1373: Brinkworth changed to Bremhill (cf. errata page 1584)

Page 1383: long vocation changed to long vacation

Page 1429: intolerable Same and Scandal changed to intolerable Shame and Scandal

Page 1453: ” deleted after ... were given gratis.

Page 1518: “ inserted before BE IT KNOWN; merry changed to _merry_

Page 1541: ” added after magnificent visions

Page 1589: desti changed to destiti; lnachiâ changed to Inachiâ

Page 1612: ” added after ... this solemn union.

Page 1618: cut out and sown in changed to cut out and sewn in; sown it in again changed to sewn it in again

Page 1652: second ” added after George Barnwell.”

Page 1655: ettle how mickle changed to settle how mickle

Page 1658: very respectable house changed to every respectable house

Page 1685: Javasŭ changed to Javasu

Page 1692: Perŭ changed to Peru

Page 1694: Roŭsey changed to Rousey, Rŭdkins changed to Rudkins

Page 1703/1704: 1150 changed to 1151 (J. J.)

Page 1706: Hoods changed to Hood’s

Page 1707/1708: Peakril, A. changed to Peakril, A (peakril: inhabitant of the Derbyshire Peak)

Page 1710: 9 changed to 91. (Lark shooting).