Chapter C: PUCKERIDGE, Beadle (3)

Regardless of the danger to which the van is exposed, they press closer and closer; at length, in spite of his amazing powers he yields to the combined strength of his numerous opponents, and is tumbled into the water. On again rising to the surface, his first care generally is to land, which, in most cases, he effects in the meadows; these are very swampy, full of rivers, and spacious. November being a month invariably attended with rain, the stay-laced sportful dandy, alas! too frequently finds that the slippery ground is no respecter of persons, and in spite of all his efforts to maintain his equilibrium, in submissive, prostrate attitude, he embraces his mother earth.

The sport is attended regularly by a patroness,--

“A bold virago stout and tall,
Like Joan of France, or English Mall,”

clad in blue, with a rare display of ribbons, and other insignia of her high office, who by close of day generally imbibes so much of the inspiring spirit of sir John Barleycorn, as to make her fully verify the words of Hamlet, viz.--

“Frailty, thy name is woman.”

Thus the amusement continues, until night puts a stop to the proceedings; the baited animal is then slaughtered, and his carcass sold at a reduced price to the lower classes, who to “top the day,” regale themselves with a supper of bull beef.

So ends this jovial sport, which, as Mr. Lowe says, “stands without a rival.” In conclusion, it only remains for me to state, that I have been more than once present at this “bull-running,” and am far from forming the idea that it is so cruel as some represent it to be; fatigue is the greatest pain the bull is subjected to; and, on the other hand, the men who so courageously cope with him are in imminent danger of loss of life, or broken limbs, whilst they possess not the most distant idea of doing any thing more injurious to the animal than irritating him.

I am, Sir, &c.

JOSEPH JIBB.

_Sleaford_,

_October_ 17, 1825.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Portugal Laurel. _Cerasus Lusitanica._
Dedicated to _St. Lawrence_.

~November 15.~

_St. Gertrude_, Abbess, A. D. 1292. _St. Leopold_, Marquis of Austria,
A. D. 1136. _St. Eugenius_, A. D. 275. _St. Malo_, or _Maclou_, A. D.
565.

~St. Machutus.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. He is the “St. Malo, or Maclou,” of Alban Butler; according to whom he was born in England, and sent to Ireland for his education, where he was offered a bishopric but declined it. Going to Brittany he became disciple to a recluse named Aron, near Aleth, of which city he was the first bishop, and died November 15, 565. St. Malo derives its name from him. The ground whereon he stands in the church of England calendar is unknown.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sweet Coltsfoot. _Tussilago fragrans._
Dedicated to _St. Gertrude_.

~November 16.~

_St. Edmund_, Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 1242. _St. Eucherius_, Bp. of
Lyons, A. D. 460.

_Stourbridge Fair._

A correspondent in the subjoined note mentions a singular character, which should be taken into the particulars concerning this fair related at page 1300.

(_For the Every-Day Book._)

Mr. Editor,

In addition to your account of Stourbridge fair I send you the following, related to me by an individual of great veracity, who attended the fairs in 1766 and 1767.

Exclusive of the servants in red coats there was also another person dressed in similar clothing, with a string over his shoulders, from whence were suspended quantities of spigots and fossetts, and also round each arm many more were fastened. He was called “_Lord of the Tap_,” and his duty consisted in visiting all the booths in which ale was sold, to determine whether it was fit and proper beverage, for the persons attending the fairs.

In the account published at Cambridge in 1806, as given in your excellent miscellany, no notice is taken of this personage, and it may therefore be presumed the office had been discontinued.

J. N.

_November_ 16, 1825.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

African Hemp. _Sansciviera Guineam._
Dedicated to _St. Edmund_.

~November 17.~

_St. Gregory Thaumaturgus_, Bp. A. D. 270. _St. Dionysius_, Abp. of
Alexandria, A. D. 265. _St. Gregory_, Bp. of Tours, A. D. 596. _St.
Hugh_, Bp. of Lincoln, A. D. 1200. _St. Anian_, or _Agnan_, Bp. A. D.
453.

_Queen Elizabeth’s Accession._

This day was formerly noted in the almanacs as the anniversary of queen Elizabeth’s accession to the throne, in the year 1558. In 1679, while the bill for excluding the duke of York, afterwards James II., from the throne of England, was in agitation, there was a remarkable cavalcade in London on this day. The following account of it was drawn up at the time:--

“The bells generally about the town began to ring at three o’clock in the morning. At the approach of evening, all things being in readiness, the solemn procession began, setting forth from Moor-gate, and so passed first to Aldgate, and from thence through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal Exchange, through Cheapside, and so to Temple-bar, in the ensuing order, viz.

“1. Six whifflers, to clear the way, in pioneers’ caps, and red waistcoats.

“2. A bellman ringing, and with a loud but dolesome voice, crying out all the way, ‘remember justice Godfrey.’

“3. A dead body, representing justice Godfrey, in a decent black habit, carried before a jesuit in black, on horseback, in like manner as he was carried by the assassins to Primrose-hill.

“4. A priest, in a surplice, with a cope embroidered with dead bones, skeletons, sculls, and the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all those that should murder protestants, and proclaiming it meritorious.

“5. A priest in black, alone, with a great silver cross.

“6. Four carmelites, in white and black habits.

“7. Four grey-fryars, in the proper habits of their order.

“8. Six jesuits, with bloody daggers.

“9. A concert of wind music.

“10. Four bishops, in purple, and lawn sleeves, with a golden cross on their breast, and crosier staves in their hands.

“11. Four other bishops, in pontificalibus, with surplices and rich embroidered copes, and golden mitres on their heads.

“12. Six cardinals, in scarlet robes and caps.

“13. The pope’s doctor, (sir George Wakeman, the queen’s physician,) with jesuit’s powder in one hand, and an urinal in the other.

“14. Two priests in surplices, with two golden crosses.

“Lastly, the pope, in a lofty glorious pageant, representing a chair of state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and fringed, and bedecked with golden balls and crosses. At his feet a cushion of slate, and two boys in surplices, with white silk banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers, with an incense pot before them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed in a splendid scarlet gown, lined through with ermine, and richly daubed with gold and silver lace; on his head a triple crown of gold, and a glorious collar of gold and precious stones, St. Peter’s keys, a number of beads, _agnus deis_, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his holiness’s privy councillor, (the degraded seraphim, _anglice_, the devil,) frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and ofttimes instructing him aloud, ‘to destroy his majesty, to forge a protestant plot, and to fire the city again;’ to which purpose he held an infernal torch in his hand.

“The whole procession was attended with 150 flambeaux and lights, by order; but so many more came in voluntarily that there was some thousands.

“Never were the balconies, windows, and houses more numerously lined, or the streets closer thronged with multitudes of people, all expressing their abhorrence of popery, with continual shouts and exclamations, so that it is modestly computed that, in the whole progress, there could not be fewer than 200,000 spectators.

“Thus, with a slow and solemn state they proceeded to Temple-bar; where, with innumerable swarms, the houses seemed to be converted into heaps of men, and women, and children; for whose diversion there were provided great variety of excellent fireworks.

“Temple-bar being, since its rebuilding, adorned with four stately statues, viz. those of queen Elizabeth and king James on the inward, or eastern side, fronting the city, and those of king Charles I. and king Charles II. on the outside, facing towards Westminster; and the statue of queen Elizabeth, in regard to the day, having on a crown of gilded laurel, and in her hand a golden shield, with this motto inscribed,--‘The Protestant Religion and Magna Charta,’ and flambeauxs placed before it; the pope being brought up near thereunto, the following song (alluding to the posture of those statues) was sung in parts, between one representing the English cardinal, (Howard,) and others acting the people.

_Cardinal._

“From York to London town we came,
To talk of popish ire,
To reconcile you all to Rome,
And prevent Smithfield fire

_People._

“Cease, cease, thou Norfolk cardinal,
See yonder stands queen Bess,
Who sav’d our souls from popish thrall,
O! queen Bess, queen Bess, queen Bess.

“Your popish plot and Smithfield threat
We do not fear at all;
For lo! beneath queen Bess’s feet
You fall, you fall, you fall!

“’Tis true, our king’s on t’other side,
Looking tow’rds Whitehall,
But could we bring him round about,
He’d counterplot you all.

“Then down with James and set up Charles
On good queen Bess’s side,
That all true commons, lords, and earls,
May wish him a fruitful bride.

“Now God preserve great Charles our king
And eke all honest men;
And traitors all to justice bring,
Amen, amen, amen.

“Then having entertained the thronging spectators for some time with the ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared just over against the Inner Temple Gate, his holiness, after some compliments and reluctances, was decently toppled from all his grandeur into the impartial flames; the crafty devil leaving his infallibilityship in the lurch, and laughing as heartily at his deserved ignominious end as subtle jesuits do at the ruin of bigotted lay-catholics whom themselves have drawn in; or as credulous Coleman’s abettors did, when, with pretences of a reprieve at the last gasp, they made him vomit up his soul with a lie, and sealed up his dangerous chops with a flatter. This justice was attended with a prodigious shout, that might be heard far beyond Somerset-house, (where the queen resided,) and it was believed the echo, by continual reverberations, before it ceased, reached Scotland, [the duke was then there,] France, and even Rome itself, damping them withal with a dreadful astonishment.”

These particulars, from a tract in lord Somers’s collection, are related in the “Gentleman’s Magazine” for 1740; and the writer adds, that “the place of prompter-general, Mr. North insinuates, was filled by lord Shaftesbury.”

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Tree Stramony. _Datura arborea._
Dedicated to _St. Gregory_.

~November 18.~

_The Dedication of the Churches of Sts. Peter_, and _Paul_, at Rome.
_Sts. Alphæus_, and _Zachæus_; also _Romanus_, and _Barulas_. _St.
Odo_, Abbot of Cluni, A. D. 942. _St. Hilda_, or _Hild_, Abbess, _A.
D._ 680.

The “_Mirror of the Months_,” a pleasing volume published in the autumn of 1825, and devoted to the service of the year, points to the appearance of nature at this time:--“The last storm of autumn, or the first of winter, (call it which you will) has strewed the bosom of the all-receiving earth with the few leaves that were still clinging, though dead, to the already sapless branches; and now all stand bare once more, spreading out their innumerable ramifications against the cold grey sky, as if sketched there for a study by the pencil of your only successful drawing-mistress--nature.

“Of all the numerous changes that are perpetually taking place in the general appearance of rural scenery during the year, there is none so striking as this which is attendant on the falling of the leaves; and there is none in which the unpleasing effects so greatly predominate over the pleasing ones. To say truth, a grove denuded of its late gorgeous attire, and instead of bowing majestically before the winds, standing erect and motionless while they are blowing through it, is ‘a sorry sight,’ and one upon which we will not dwell. But even this sad consequence of the coming on of winter (sad in most of its mere visible effects,) is not entirely without redeeming accompaniments; for in most cases it lays open to our view objects that we are glad to see again, if it be but in virtue of their association with past years; and in many cases it opens vistas into sweet distances that we had almost forgotten, and brings into view objects that we may have been sighing for the sight of all the summer long. Suppose, for example, that the summer view from the windows of a favourite sleeping-room is bounded by a screen of shrubs, shelving upwards from the turf, and terminating in a little copse of limes, beeches, and sycamores; the prettiest boundary that can greet the morning glance when the shutters are opened, and the sun slants gaily in at them, as if glad to be again admitted. How pleasant is it, when (as now) the winds of winter have stripped the branches that thus bound our view in, to spy beyond them, as if through network, the sky-pointing spire of the distant village church, rising from behind the old yew-tree that darkens its portal; and the trim parsonage beside it, its ivy-grown windows glittering perhaps in the early sun! Oh, none but those who _will_ see the good that is in every thing, know how very few evils there are without some of it attendant on them, and yet how much of good there is unmixed with any evil.

“But though the least pleasant sight connected with the coming on of winter in this month is to see the leaves that have so gladdened the groves all the summer long, falling every where around us, withered and dead,--that sight is accompanied by another which is too often overlooked. Though most of the leaves fall in winter, and the stems and branches which they beautified stand bare, many of them remain all the year round, and look brighter and fresher now than they did in spring, in virtue of the contrasts that are every where about them. Indeed the cultivation of evergreens has become so general with us of late years, that the home enclosures about our country dwellings, from the proudest down to even the poorest, are seldom to be seen without a plentiful supply, which we now, in this month, first begin to observe, and acknowledge the value of. It must be a poor plot of garden-ground indeed that does not now boast its clumps of winter-blowing laurestinus; its trim holly bushes, bright with their scarlet berries; or its tall spruce firs, shooting up their pyramid of feathery branches beside the low ivy-grown porch. Of this last-named profuse ornamentor of whatever is permitted to afford it support, (the ivy) we now too every where perceive the beautifully picturesque effects: though there is one effect of it also perceived about this time, which I cannot persuade myself to be reconciled to: I mean where the trunk of a tall tree is bound about with ivy almost to its top, which during the summer has scarcely been distinguished as a separate growth, but which now, when the other leaves are fallen, and the outspread branches stand bare, offers to the eye, not a contrast, but a contradiction. But let us not dwell on any thing in disfavour of ivy, which is one of the prime boasts of the village scenery of our island, and which even at this season of the year offers pictures to the eye that cannot be paralleled elsewhere. Perhaps as a single object of sight, there is nothing which gives so much innocent pleasure to so many persons as an English village church, when the ivy has held undisputed possession of it for many years, and has hung its fantastic banners all around it. There is a charm about an object of this kind, which it is as difficult to resist as to explain.”

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Curly Passion-flower. _Passiflora serrata._
Dedicated to _the Churches of Sts. Peter and Paul_.

~November 19.~

_St. Elizabeth, of Hungary_, A. D. 1231. _St. Pontian_, Pope, A. D.
230. _St. Barlaam._

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Apple-fruited Passion-flower. _Passiflora maliformis._
Dedicated to _St. Elizabeth_.

~November 20.~

_St. Edmund_, King and Martyr, A. D. 870. _St. Humbert_, Bp. of the
East Angles, A. D. 855. _St. Felix_, of Valois, A. D. 1212. _St.
Bernward_, Bp., A. D. 1021. _St. Masentia_, 7th Cent.

~St. Edmund,~
_King and Martyr._

This English king and saint is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. St. Edmund was king of East Anglia, which took its name from a people called the Angles, who landed on the eastern coast of Britain, under twelve chiefs, the survivor of whom, Uffa, assumed the title of king of the East Angles. This kingdom contained Norfolk and Suffolk, with part of Cambridgeshire. The chief towns were Norwich, Thetford, Ely, and Cambridge. In 867, the Danes landed in East Anglia, and after ravaging different parts of the island, and continuing some time in Northumberland, returned into East Anglia, committing, in their route, the most horrid barbarities. Edmund the king opposed them; but his army was defeated at Thetford, and the king being taken prisoner, fell a miserable victim to their barbarity, for they tied him to a tree, as a butt, or mark, and then shot him to death with arrows. The place where Edmund was interred had the name of St. Edmund’s Bury, but is now generally called Bury. Canute the Great built a stately church over his grave, and greatly enlarged the town.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Red Stapelia. _Stapelia rufa._
Dedicated to _St. Edmund, King_.

~November 21.~

_The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary._ _St. Columban_, Abbot,
A. D. 615. _St. Gelasius_, Pope, A. D. 496.

_Ghost of an Arm Chair._

A lady assured the editor of the “Perennial Calendar,” of the truth of the following story. She had ordered an armed chair which stood in her room to be sent to a sick friend, and thought it had been sent conformably to her orders. Waking, however, in the night, and looking by the light of the night-lamp at the furniture in her room, she cast her eyes on the place where the said chair used to stand, and saw it, as she thought, in its place. She at first expressed herself to her husband as being vexed that the chair had not been sent; but, as he protested that it was actually gone, she got out of bed to convince herself, and distinctly saw the chair, even on a nearer approach to it. What now became very remarkable was, that the spotted chair-cover which was over it, assumed an unusual clearness, and the pattern assumed the appearance of being studded with bright stars. She got close to it, and putting her hand out to touch it, found her fingers go through the spectrum unresisted. Astonished, she now viewed it as an illusion, and presently saw it vanish, by becoming fainter till it disappeared. Dr. Forster considers this apparition as affording a clue to one mode by which spectra are introduced, namely, by local association. The lady had anticipated seeing the chair in its place, from its always being associated with the rest of the furniture; and this anticipation of an image of perception was the basis of a corresponding image of spectral illusion.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Largeflowered Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis grandiflora._
Dedicated to _the Presentation of the V. Mary_.

------ Divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With nature’s mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown;
He rais’d a mortal to the skies,
She drew an angel down.

_Dryden._

~November 22.~

_St. Cecily_, A. D. 230. _St. Theodorus_, A. D. 821. _Sts. Philemon_,
and _Appia_.

_St. Cecilia._

This saint is in the church of England Calendar, and in the almanacs. Her having existed has been doubted, but she is a saint of the Romish church, and Butler gives her life, wherein he calls her “the patroness of church music.” He says, that she was married to a nobleman named Valerian, whom, with her brother Tibertius, she converted, and with them she was martyred. Various legends, and many pictures and prints, represent her as engaged in music, or listening to it from celestial performers. Hence the ode for St. Cecilia’s day by Dryden, who was a catholic, concludes by saying,

“She drew an angel down.”

Formerly, concerts on her festival-day were fashionable, and Pope honoured her in numbers, though “the numbers came” not to him, as to Dryden. The preceding engraving is from a design by M. de Vos, engraved by J. Sadler. Her husband is represented, allured by the harmony, entering a room, wherein she sits. According to catholic story, he found a young man playing on the organ, Cecilia described him to Valerian as an angel, and from that time she received “angels’ visits.”

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Trumpet-flowered Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis ubiflora._
Dedicated to _St. Cecilia_.

~November 23.~

_St. Clement_, Pope, A. D. 100. _St. Amphilochius_, Bp. of Iconium, A.
D. 394. _St. Tron_, A. D. 693. _St. Daniel_, Bp. A. D. 545.

~St. Clement.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs.

Clement was a follower and coadjutor of the apostle Paul, who, writing to the _Philippians_, (iv. 3.) requires them to be mindful of the flock and their teachers, and distinguishes Clement by name--“help those women which laboured with me in the gospel, and with Clement also, and with other my fellow-labourers.” The Romish writers contend for the direct papal succession from the apostles, and call Clement a pope; but in the uninterrupted succession they claim for the pontiffs of their hierarchy, they fail in establishing as indisputable whether he was the first, second, or third pope; the name itself was not devised until centuries afterwards. Some of them say he was martyred, others contend that he died a natural death. The advocates for his martyrdom assign him an anchor as a symbol of distinction, because they allege that he was thrown into the sea with an anchor about his neck. It is further alleged that two of his disciples desirous of recovering his remains, assembled a multitude and prayed for the discovery, and, as usual, there was a miracle. “Immediately the sea retired for the space of three miles, or a league, in such sort that they could go into it for all that space as upon the dry land; and they found in it a chapel, or little church, made by the hands of angels; and within the church a chest of stone, in which was the body of St. Clement, and by it the anchor with which he had been cast into the sea. This miracle did not happen only that year in which the holy pope died, but it happened also every year, and the sea retired itself three miles, as was said, leaving the way dry for seven days, namely, the day of his martyrdom, and the other six following days.”[389] Though “travellers see strange sights,” no modern tourist has related this annual miracle, which is still performed by the sea in the neighbourhood of Rome, on the days aforesaid, as duly and truly as the annual liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples--“_or_, if not, why not?”

Protestants, in London, are reminded of St. Clement’s apocryphal death by his anchor being the weathercock that “turns and turns,” to every wind, on the steeple of the parish church of St. Clement Danes in the Strand. It denotes the efflux of time as a minute-hand upon the clock; it denotes the limits of the parish as a mark upon the boundary stones; it graces the beadles’ staves; and on the breasts of the charity children is, in the eyes of the parishioners, “a badge of honour.”

* * * * *

It appears from a state proclamation, dated July 22, 1540, that children were accustomed to be decked, and go about on St. Clement’s day in procession. From an ancient custom of going about on the night of this festival to beg drink to make merry with, a pot was formerly marked against the 23d of November upon the old clog-almanacs.[390]

St. Clement is the patron of _blacksmiths_. His quality in this respect is not noticed by Brand, or other observers of our ancient customs, nor do they mention any observances by that trade in commemoration of his festival. But the following communications will show the estimation wherein he is held among the “cunning workmen in iron.”

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Chancery-lane, Nov. 19, 1825._

Sir,

As secretary of the “Benevolent Institution of Smiths,” I take the liberty of jogging your memory. I hope you will not forget our _St. Clement_, (Nov. 23,) in your interesting _Every-Day Book_. When I was a child, an old man went about in the trade, reciting the following ode on smithery, which, I believe, is very old. If you think it worthy a place in your work, it will much oblige me and our trade; for it is now quite forgot, with many good customs of hospitality of the olden days which are no more. I hope you will cull your flowers of antiquity, and collect all you can for our trade; there is a story of St. Dunstan, the smith, with his tongs, pinching the devil by the nose, &c.

_An Ode on Smithery, 1610._

“By reading of old authors we do find
The smiths have been a trade time out of mind;
And it’s believed they may be bold to say,
There’s not the like to them now at this day.
For was it not for smiths what could we do,
We soon should loose our lives and money too;
The miser would be stript of all his store,
And lose the golden god he doth adore:
No tradesman could be safe, or take his rest
But thieves and rogues would nightly him molest;
It’s by our cunning art, and ancient skill,
That we are saved from those who would work ill.
The smith at night, and soon as he doth rise,
Doth always cleanse and wash his face and eyes;
Kindles his fire, and the bellows blows,
Tucks up his shirt sleeves, and to work he goes:
Then makes the hammer and the anvil ring,
And thus he lives as merry as a king.
A working smith all other trades excels,
In useful labour wheresoe’er he dwells;
Toss up your caps ye sons of Vulcan then,
For there are none of all the sons of men,
That can with the brave working smiths compare,
Their work is hard, and jolly lads they are.
What though a smith looks sometimes very black,
And sometimes gets but one shirt to his back
And that is out at elbows, and so thin
That you through twenty holes may see his skin;
Yet when he’s drest and clean, you all will say,
That smiths are men not made of common clay.
They serve the living, and they serve the dead,
They serve the mitre, and the crowned head;
They all are men of honour and renown,
Honest, and just, and loyal to the crown.
The many worthy deeds that they have done,
Have spread their fame beyond the rising sun
So if we have offended rich or poor,
We will be good boys, and do so no more.”

I hope you will polish up for insertion. I will call for the old copy at your office: I should have sent it sooner, but could not find it, and the trouble it has cost me has made it valuable.

I remain, &c.

J. JOHNSON.

_7, Hill-street,_

_Southwark._

* * * * *

The editor has given the “ode” without Mr. Johnson’s alterations and additions, because its original state is better suited to convey a notion of his predecessors’ manners; for the same reason, his suggestion to “polish up” has been declined. The homeliness of those who preceded him is not discreditable to him, or any of the brethren of his trade. They are daily increasing in respectability, and ought to be a thriving branch. Compared with those who lived before them, they have extraordinary means of becoming acquainted with the _principles_ of their varied manufacture, by becoming members of the _Mechanics’ Institution_. Many blacksmiths have already joined that society. A diligent and good hand who knows more than his fellows, will be the best workman, and get the most money; and frugality abroad, and economy at home, will secure his independence. Attendance at the _Mechanics’ Institution_ will teach these things: and St. Clement cannot be better honoured than by observing them.

ST. CLEMENT, _at Woolwich_.

R. R. obligingly communicates with his name, the following account of an annual ceremony on the evening of St. Clement’s day, by the blacksmiths’ apprentices of the dockyard there.

(_For the Every-Day Book._)

One of the senior apprentices being chosen to serve as _old Clem_, (so called by them,) is attired in a great coat, having his head covered with an oakham wig, face masked, and a long white beard flowing therefrom; thus attired, he seats himself in a _large wooden chair_, chiefly covered with a sort of stuff called buntin, with a crown and anchor, made of wood, on the top, and around it, four transparencies, representing “the blacksmiths’ arms,” “anchor smiths at work,” “Britannia with her anchor,” and “Mount Etna.” He has before him a wooden anvil, and in his hands a pair of tongs and wooden hammer which, in general, he makes good use of whilst reciting his speech. A mate, also masked, attends him with a wooden sledge-hammer; he is also surrounded by a number of other attendants, some of whom carry torches, banners, flags, &c.; others battle-axes, tomahawkes, and other accoutrements of war. This procession, headed by a drum and fife, and six men with old Clem mounted on their shoulders, proceed round the town, stopping and refreshing at nearly every public house, (which, by the by, are pretty numerous,) not forgetting to call on the blacksmiths and officers of the dockyard: there the money-box is pretty freely handed, after old Clem and his mate have recited their speeches, which commence by the mate calling for order, with

“Gentlemen all, attention give,
And wish St. Clem, long, long to live.”

Old Clem then recites the following speech:--

“I am the real St. Clement, the first founder of brass, iron, and
steel, from the ore. I have been to Mount Etna, where the god Vulcan
first built his forge, and forged the armour and thunderbolts for the
god Jupiter. I have been through the deserts of Arabia; through Asia,
Africa, and America; through the city of Pongrove; through the town of
Tipmingo; and all the northern parts of Scotland. I arrived in London
on the twenty-third of November, and came down to his majesty’s
dockyard, at Woolwich, to see how all the gentlemen Vulcans came on
there. I found them all hard at work, and wish to leave them well on
the twenty-fourth.”

The mate then subjoins:--

“Come all you Vulcans stout and strong,
Unto St. Clem we do belong,
I know this house is well prepared
With plenty of money and good strong beer,
And we must drink before we part,
All for to cheer each merry heart.
Come all you Vulcans, strong and stout,
Unto St. Clem I pray turn out;
For now St. Clem’s going round the town,
His coach and six goes merrily round.
Huzza,--a,--a.”

After having gone round the town and collected a pretty decent sum, they retire to some public house, where they enjoy as good a supper as the money collected will allow.

R. R.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Convex Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis convexula._
Dedicated to _St. Clement_.

[389] Ribadeneira.

[390] Plot’s Staffordshire.

~November 24.~

_St. John of the Cross_, A. D. 1591. _St. Chrysogonus._ _Sts. Flora_
and _Mary_, A. D. 851. _St. Cianan_, or _Kenan_, Bp. of Duleek, in
Ireland, A. D. 489.

_London in November._

In the already cited “_Mirror of the Months_,” there is a feeling account of certain days in the metropolis, at this season, which every one who has sojourned in “that overgrown place” will immediately recognize to be “quite correct.”

“Now the atmosphere of London begins to thicken over head, and assume its _natural_ appearance, preparatory to its becoming, about Christmas time, that ‘palpable obscure,’ which is one of its proudest boasts; and which, among its other merits, may reckon that of engendering those far-famed fogs, of which every body has heard, but to which no one has ever done justice. A London fog, in November, is a thing for which I have a sort of natural affection--to say nothing of an acquired one--the result of a hackney-coach adventure, in which the fair part of the fare threw herself into my arms for protection, amidst the pleasing horrors of an overthrow.

“As an affair of mere breath, there is something tangible in a London fog. In the evanescent air of Italy, a man might as well not breathe at all, for any thing he knows of the matter. But in a well-mixed metropolitan fog, there is something substantial and satisfying. You can feel what you breathe, and see it too. It is like breathing water,--as we may suppose the fishes to do. And then the taste of it, when dashed with a due seasoning of seacoal smoke, is far from insipid. It is also meat and drink at the same time: something between egg-flip and _omelétte soufflée_, but much more digestible than either. Not that I would recommend it medicinally, especially to persons of queasy stomachs, delicate nerves, and afflicted with bile. But for persons of a good robust habit of body, and not dainty withal, (which such, by the by, never are,) there is nothing better in its way. And it wraps you all round like a cloak, too--a patent water-proof one, which no rain ever penetrated. No--I maintain that a real London fog is a thing not to be sneezed at--if you help it. _Mem._ As many spurious imitations of the above are abroad,--such as Scotch mists, and the like,--which are no less deleterious than disagreeable,--please to ask for the ‘true London particular,’--as manufactured by Thames, Coalgas, Smoke, Steam, & Co. No others are genuine.”

_Water-proof Boots and Shoes._

Take one pound of drying (boiled linseed) oil, two ounces of yellow wax, two ounces of spirits of turpentine, and one of Burgundy pitch, melted carefully over a slow fire. With this composition new shoes and boots are to be rubbed in the sun, or at a distance from the fire, with a small bit of sponge, as often as they become dry, until they are fully saturated; the leather then is impervious to wet, the shoes and boots last much longer, acquire softness and pliability, and thus prepared, are the most effectual preservatives against cold.

_A Notable Woman._

On the 24th of November, 1735, a butcher near Rumford, in Essex, was rode up to by a woman well mounted on a side saddle, who, to his astonishment, presented a pistol, and demanded his money. In amazement he asked her what she meant, and received his answer from a genteel looking man, who coming to him on horseback, said he was a brute to deny the lady’s request, and enforced this conviction by telling him that if he did not gratify her desire immediately he would shoot him through the head. The butcher could not resist an invitation to be gallant, when supported by such arguments, and he placed six guineas and his watch in her hands.[391]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Starry Stapelia. _Stapelia radiata._
Dedicated to _St. John of the Cross_.

[391] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~November 25.~

_St. Catharine_, 3d Cent. _St. Erasmus_, or _Elme_.

~St. Catharine.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar, and the almanacs. It is doubtful whether she ever existed; yet in mass-books and breviaries, we find her prayed to and honoured by hymns, with stories of her miracles so wonderfully apocryphal that even cardinal Baronius blushes for the threadbare legends. In Alban Butler’s memoirs of this saint, it may be discovered by a scrutinizing eye, that while her popularity seems to force him to relate particulars concerning her, he leaves himself room to disavow them; but this is hardly fair, for the great body of readers of his “Lives of the Saints,” are too confiding to criticise hidden meanings. “From this martyr’s uncommon erudition,” he says, “and the extraordinary spirit of piety by which she sanctified her learning, and the use she made of it, she is chosen, in the schools, the patroness and model of christian philosophers.” According to his authorities she was beheaded under the emperor Maxentius, or Maximinus II. He adds, “She is said first to have been put upon an engine made of four wheels joined together, and stuck with sharp pointed spikes, that when the wheels were moved her body might be torn to pieces.” The acts add, that at the first stirring of the terrible engine, the cords with which the martyr was tied, were broke asunder by the invisible power of an angel, and, the engine falling to pieces by the wheels being separated from one another, she was delivered from that death. Hence, the name of “St. Catharine’s wheel.”

FROM A STAINED GLASS WINDOW IN WEST WICKHAM CHURCH, KENT, 1825.]

The Catharine-wheel, a sign in the Borough, and at other inns and public houses, and the Catharine-wheel in fireworks, testify this saint’s notoriety in England. Besides pictures and engravings representing her pretended marriage with Christ, others, which are more numerous, represent her with her wheel. She was, in common with other papal saints, also painted in churches, and there is still a very fine, though somewhat mutilated, painting of her, on the glass window in the chancel of the church of West Wickham, a village delightfully situated in Kent, between Bromley and Croydon. The editor of the _Every-Day Book_ went thither, and took a tracing from the window itself, and now presents an engraving from that tracing, under the expectation that, as an ornament, it may be acceptable to all, and, as perpetuating a relic of antiquity, be still more acceptable to a few. The figure under St. Catharine’s feet is the tyrant Maxentius. In this church there are other fine and perfect remains of the beautifully painted glass which anciently adorned it. A coach leaves the Ship, at Charing-cross, every afternoon for the Swan, at West Wickham, which is kept by Mr. Crittel, who can give a visiter a good bed, good cheer, and good information, and if need be, put a good horse into a good stable. A short and pleasant walk of a mile to the church the next morning will be gratifying in many ways. The village is one of the most retired and agreeable spots in the vicinity of the metropolis. It is not yet deformed by building speculations.

_St. Catharine’s Day._

Old Barnaby Googe, from Naogeorgus, says--

“What should I tell what sophisters on Cathrins day devise?
Or else the superstitious toyes that maisters exercise.”

Anciently women and girls in Ireland kept a fast every Wednesday and Saturday throughout the year, and some of them also on _St. Catharine’s_ day; nor would they omit it though it happened on their birthday, or they were ever so ill. The reason given for it was that the girls might get good husbands, and the women better ones, either by the death, desertion, or reformation of their living ones.[392]

* * * * *

St. Catharine was esteemed the saint and patroness of spinsters, and her holiday observed by young women meeting on this day, and making merry together, which they call “Cathar’ning.”[393] Something of this still remains in remote parts of England.

* * * * *

Our correspondent R. R. (in November, 1825,) says, “On the 25th of November, St. Catharine’s day, a man dressed in woman’s clothes, with a large wheel by his side, to represent St. Catharine, was brought out of the royal arsenal at Woolwich, (by the workmen of that place,) about six o’clock in the evening, seated in a large wooden chair, and carried by men round the town, with attendants, &c. similar to St. Clement’s. They stopped at different houses, where they used to recite a speech; but this ceremony has been discontinued these last eight or nine years.”

* * * * *

Much might be said and contemplated in addition to the notice already taken of the demolition of the church of St. Catharine’s, near the Tower. Its destruction has commenced, is proceeding, and will be completed in a short time. The surrender of this edifice will, in the end, become a precedent for a spoliation imagined by very few on the day when he utters this foreboding.

_25th of November, 1825._

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sweet Butter-bur. _Tussilago fragrans._
Dedicated to _St. Catharine_.

[392] Camden Brit.

[393] La Motte on Poetry and Painting, 1790, 12mo.

~November 26.~

_St. Peter_, Martyr, Bp. of Alexandria, A. D. 311. _St. Nicon_,
surnamed _Metanoite_, A. D. 998. _St. Sylvester Gozzolini_, A. D.
1267. _St. Conrad_, Bp. of Constance, A. D. 976.

A NEW MOON CUSTOM,
_and “more last words” respecting_
CAPTAIN STARKEY.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,

I do not remember to have seen in your book, “where _every-day_ we turn the leaf to read,” any notice of a custom, which is not only very prevalent, but which is, also, most harmless in its nature and endearing in its tendency--promotes in its practice goodwill and good humour--and, not unfrequently, with those who view the “future i’ th’ instant,” love itself. Among the many new moon customs, such as looking through a new silk handkerchief to ascertain the number of your lovers, feeling for money in your pocket, to see if you will have a lucky month, &c.; I know of none so pleasant, or, to my thinking, so rational, as that of claiming the FIRST KISS FOR A PAIR OF NEW GLOVES! The person, in a company, male or female, who first gets a glimpse of the new moon, immediately kisses some member of the company, and pronounces with a triumphant chuckle, “Aha! Jane, (or as the name may be,) there’s a pair of gloves for _me_!” By this means a pleasant interruption is often given to a tedious tale, or uninteresting debate, and a new subject starts, in which all may join with greater or less avidity. How happy is some modest youth, should the blushing and ingenuous girl, whom he has secretly “singled from the world,” have laid him under the penalty of a pair of new gloves, by that soft phrase and that first delicious kiss--how fruitful are his sweet anticipations of that golden time--

“When life is all one dream of love and flowers.”

How joyful is an amiable sister, if, by this species of initiation, she has been enabled to re-conciliate the vagrant affections of some estranged brother: and even where love and sisterly feelings are out of the question, viewed as an interchange of common (_common!_) friendship, between the sexes, how felicitous is it in effect and operation! Should you, Mr. Editor, be of opinion with me, respecting this no longer “tyrant custom,” you may, possibly, by printing this letter be productive of much good humour, and a pair of new gloves.

I am,

Your constant and approving reader,

W. G. T.

_Newcastle-on-Tyne._

P. S. I cannot write the name of the town where I reside, without feeling a strong inducement to say one word of him, who has been so pleasantly immortalized by yourself, and the inimitable being who wrote so affectingly of “Rosamund Gray,” and the “Old Familiar Faces”--I mean poor Starkey. I was born, and have lived all my life (not a long one), in the town where he terminated his humble career, and gave another name to the neglected and unpitied list of those, who seem chiefly to have entered the world for the purpose of swelling

“The short and simple annals of the poor,”

and my earliest recollections are haunted by his meagre care-worn form;--many a time have I shrunk from the shaking of his stick, and the imperious “_dem your bluds_,” which he bestowed with uncommon celerity on the defenceless heads of his young and unthinking sources of annoyance, as they assailed him from the corners which he was accustomed to pass. But the captain was a humble man, and these “moods of the mind” were seldom indulged in, save when he was returning, brim-full of brief and intemperate importance, from the Black Horse, in Pilgrim-street, the tap-room of which was the scene of many a learned disputation with the “unwashed artificers” of the evening, and in which the captain was always proportionably brilliant to the number of _gills_ he had drank. On these occasions, in his efforts to silence the sons of toil, he did not scruple to use his Latin--and, in such instances, appeal was impossible, and victory sure. Among several anecdotes, I am in possession of two, which you, his most celebrious biographer, may not think unworthy of recording. On one evening, when he was returning from a carousal, furnished by the generosity of friends, or his own indiscretion--for the captain despised to-morrow as much as any man, and was fully convinced of the propriety of the apophthegm, “sufficient unto the day is its own evil”--he found the gate of the Freemen’s Hospital, where he resided, closed, and no one in a better condition for exclaiming with Dr. Beattie,

“Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb!”

than himself. What was to be done? To fly over was impossible--and he was much too deep in the scale of intoxication to dream of scaling the wall. A party of young bucks, “ripe for fun,” fresh from their sacrifices at the shrine of “the reeling goddess with the zoneless waist,” came up the street; to these, hat in hand, did the captain prefer his petition to be assisted over, and they, with a thoughtlessness hardly to be excused by their condition, took him up, and threw him completely on to the grass plot on the other side. The veteran scrambled to his legs, and, for the wall was not _very_ high on the inside, returned them thanks in his best manner for their timely assistance, utterly forgetful that it might have proved most disastrous both to himself and them. The second, and with which I must conclude a postscript which has already far outgrown the letter, was less harmless and equally illustrative of the man. He had gone, with another eleemosynary worthy, on some gratulatory occasion, to the hall of one of the members for the town, and the butler who was well aware of the object of his guests, treated them handsomely in his refectory to cold beef and good ale. He was accidentally called away, and the two friends were left alone. Alas! for the temptations which continually beset us! The “expedition of” the captain’s “violent love outran the pauser, reason:” he suggested, and both adopted, the expedient of secreting a slice or two of the member’s beef, to make more substantial the repast of the evening. Starkey’s share was deposited in his hat. The man in office returned, pressed his visiters afresh, “and still the circling cup was drained,” until the home-brewed had made considerable innovations, and the travellers thought it fitting to depart. The captain’s habitual politeness was an overmatch for his cunning: whilst he was yet at the door, casting his “last lingering looks behind,” he must needs take off his hat to give more effect to the fervour of his farewell--when--“out upon ’t”--the beef fell as flat on his oration, as did the hat of corporal Trim on the floor in the scene of his eloquence. Starkey was dumb-founded, his associate was in agonies, and the butler was convulsed with the most “side-splitting” laughter. The captain, like other great men, has not fallen “unsung.” Hearken to Gilchrist, one of the “bards of the Tyne,” who thus sings in his apotheosis of Benjamin Starkey:--

“His game is up, his pipe is out, an’ fairly laid his craw,
His fame ’ill blaw about just like coal dust at Shiney-Raw.
He surely was a joker rare--what times there’d been for a’ the
nation,
Had he but lived to be a mayor, the glory o’ wor corporation!
“Whack, &c.”

W. G. T.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Linear Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis linearis._
Dedicated to _St. Conrad_.

~November 27.~

_St. Maximus_, Bp. of Riez, A. D. 460. _St. James_, surnamed
_Intercisus_, A. D. 421. _St. Maharsapor_, A. D. 421. _St. Virgil_,
Bp. of Saltzburg, A. D. 784. _St. Secundin_, or _Seachnal_, Bp. of
Dunsaghlin, in Meath, A. D. 447.

ANNIVERSARY OF
~The Great Storm~
IN ENGLAND.

In _Little Wild-street_ chapel, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, a sermon is annually preached on this day in commemoration of the “GREAT STORM” in 1703.

This fearful tempest was preceded by a strong west wind, which set in about the middle of the month; and every day, and almost every hour, increased in force until the 24th, when it blew furiously, occasioned much alarm, and some damage was sustained. On the 25th, and through the night following, it continued with unusual violence. On the morning of Friday, the 26th, it raged so fearfully that only few people had courage to venture abroad. Towards evening it rose still higher; the night setting in with excessive darkness added general horror to the scene, and prevented any from seeking security abroad from their homes, had that been possible. The extraordinary power of the wind created a noise, hoarse and dreadful, like thunder, which carried terror to every ear, and appalled every heart. There were also appearances in the heavens that resembled lightning. “The air,” says a writer at the time, “was full of meteors and fiery vapours; yet,” he adds, “I am of opinion, that there was really no lightning, in the common acceptation of the term; for the clouds, that flew with such violence through the air, were not to my observation such as are usually freighted with thunder and lightning; the hurries nature was then in do not consist with the system of thunder.” Some imagined the tempest was accompanied with an earthquake. “Horror and confusion seized upon all, whether on shore or at sea; no pen can describe it, no tongue can express it, no thought can conceive it, unless theirs who were in the extremity of it; and who being touched with a due sense of the sparing mercy of their Maker, retain the deep impressions of his goodness upon their minds though the danger be past. To venture abroad was to rush into instant death, and to stay within afforded no other prospect than that of being buried under the ruins of a falling habitation. Some in their distraction did the former, and met death in the streets; others the latter, and in their own houses received their final doom.” One hundred and twenty-three persons were killed by the falling of dwellings; amongst these were the bishop of Bath and Wells (Dr. Richard Kidder) and his lady, by the fall of part of the episcopal palace of Wells; and lady Penelope Nicholas, sister to the bishop of London, at Horsley, in Sussex. Those who perished in the waters, in the floods of the Severn and the Thames, on the coast of Holland, and in ships blown away and never heard of afterwards, are computed to have amounted to eight thousand.

All ranks and degrees were affected by this amazing tempest, for every family that had any thing to lose lost something: land, houses, churches, corn, trees, rivers, all were disturbed or damaged by its fury; small buildings were for the most part wholly swept away, “as chaff before the wind.” Above eight hundred dwelling-houses were laid in ruins. Few of those that resisted escaped from being unroofed, which is clear from the prodigious increase in the price of tiles, which rose from twenty-one shillings to six pounds the thousand. About two thousand stacks of chimnies were blown down in and about London. When the day broke the houses were mostly stripped, and appeared like so many skeletons. The consternation was so great that trade and business were suspended, for the first occupation of the mind was so to repair the houses that families might be preserved from the inclemency of the weather in the rigorous season. The streets were covered with brickbats, broken tiles, signs, bulks, and penthouses.

The lead which covered one hundred churches, and many public buildings, was rolled up, and hurled in prodigious quantities to distances almost incredible; spires and turrets of many others were thrown down. Innumerable stacks of corn and hay were blown away, or so torn and scattered as to receive great damage.