Chapter C: PUCKERIDGE, Beadle (6)

As an owner of that useful class of animals, dogs, I could not but a little startle at the severity you cast on their owners in your “Sirius,” or dog-star of July 3d. In enumerating their different qualities and prescribing substitutes, you forgot one of the most laborious employments formerly assigned to a species of dogs with long backs and short legs, called “Turnspits.”

The mode of teaching them their business was more summary than humane: the dog was put in a wheel, and a burning coal with him; he could not stop without burning his legs, and so was kept upon the full gallop. These dogs were by no means fond of their profession; it was indeed hard work to run in a wheel for two or three hours, turning a piece of meat which was twice their own weight. As the season for roasting meat is fast approaching, perhaps you can find a corner in your _Every-Day Book_ for the insertion of a most extraordinary circumstance, relative to these curs, which took place many years ago at Bath.

It is recorded, that a party of young wags hired the chairmen on Saturday night to steal all the turnspits in the town, and lock them up till the following evening. Accordingly on Sunday, when every body desires roast meat for dinner, all the cooks were to be seen in the streets,--“Pray have you seen our Chloe?” says one. “Why,” replies the other, “I was coming to ask you if you had seen our Pompey;” up came a third while they were talking, to inquire for her Toby,--and there was no roast meat in Bath that day. It is recorded, also, of these dogs in this city, that one Sunday, when they had as usual followed their mistresses to church, the lesson for the day happened to be that chapter in Ezekiel, wherein the self-moving chariots are described. When first the word “wheel” was pronounced, all the curs pricked up their ears in alarm; at the second wheel they set up a doleful howl; and when the dreaded word was uttered a third time, every one of them scampered out of church, as fast as he could, with his tail between his legs.

_Nov._ 25, 1825.

JOHN FOSTER.

* * * * *

_A real_ EVERY-DAY _English Dialogue_.

(From the Examiner.)

_A._ (Advancing) “How d’ye do, Brooks?”

_B._ “Very well, thank’ee; how do _you_ do?”

_A._ “Very well, thank’ee; is Mrs. Brooks well?”

_B._ “Very well, I’m much obliged t’ye. Mrs. Adams and the children are well, I hope?”

_A._ “Quite well, thank’ee.”

(A pause.)

_B._ “Rather pleasant weather to-day.”

_A._ “Yes, but it was cold in the morning.”

_B._ “Yes, but we must expect that at this time o’year.”

(Another pause,--neckcloth twisted and switch twirled.)

_A._ “Seen Smith lately?”

_B._ “No,--I can’t say I have--but I have seen Thompson.”

_A._ “Indeed--how is he?”

_B._ “Very well, thank’ee.”

_A._ “I’m glad of it.--Well,--good morning.”

_B._ “Good morning.”

Here it is always observed that the speakers, having taken leave, walk faster than usual for some hundred yards.

Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls
Boils round the naked melancholy isles
Of farthest Thulé, and th’ Atlantic surge
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides;
Who can recount what transmigrations there
Are annual made? what nations come and go?
And how the living clouds on clouds arise?
Infinite wings till all the plume-dark air
And rude, resounding shore, are one wild cry.

_Thomson._

To a sporting friend, the editor is indebted for the seasonable information in the accompanying letter, and the drawings of the present engravings.

_Abbeville_, _Nov._ 14, 1825.

Dear Sir,

It is of all things in the world the most unpleasant to write about nothing, when one knows a letter with something is expected. It is true I promised to look out for pious _chansons_, miraculous stories, and other whims and wonders of the French vulgar; and though I do not send you a budget of these gallimaufry odds and ends, whereon I know you have set your heart, yet I hope you will believe that I thoroughly determined to keep my word. To be frank, I had no sooner landed, than desire came over me to reach my domicile at this place as fast as possible, and get at my old field-sports. I therefore posted hither without delay, and, having my gun once more in my hand, have been up every morning with the lark, lark shooting, and letting fly at all that flies--my conscience flying and flapping in my face at every recollection of my engagement to you. I well remember your telling me I should forget you, and my answering, that it was “impossible!” Birds were never more plentiful, and till a frost sets them off to a milder atmosphere, I cannot be off for England. I am spell-bound to the fields and waters. Do not, however, be disheartened; I hope yet to do something handsome for your “hobby,” but I have one of my own, and I must ride him while I can.

It strikes me, however, that I can communicate something in _my_ way, that will interest _some_ readers of the _Every-Day Book_, if you think proper to lay it before them.

Every labouring man in France has a right to sport, and keeps a gun. The consequence of this is, that from the middle of October, or the beginning of this month, vast quantities of wild-fowl are annually shot in and about the fens of Picardy, whither they resort principally in the night, to feed along the different ditches and small ponds, many of which are artificially contrived with one, two, and sometimes three little huts, according to the dimensions of the pond. These huts are so ingeniously manufactured, and so well adapted to the purpose that I send you two drawings to convey an idea of their construction.

All wild-fowl are timorous, and easily deceived. The sportsman’s huts, to the number of eight or ten, are placed in such a situation, that not until too late do the birds discover the deception, and the destruction which, under cover, the fowlers deal among them. To allure them from their heights, two or three tame ducks, properly secured to stones near the huts, keep up an incessant quacking during the greater part of the night. The huts are sufficiently large to admit two men and a dog; one man keeps watch while his companion sleeps half the night, when, for the remainder, it becomes his turn to watch and relieve the other. They have blankets, a mattress, and suitable conveniences, for passing night after night obscured in their artificial caverns, and exposed to unwholesome damps and fogs. The huts are formed in the following manner:--A piece of ground is raised sufficiently high to protect the fowler from the wet ground, upon which is placed the frame of the temporary edifice. This is mostly made of ozier, firmly interwoven, as in this sketch.

This frame is covered with dry reeds, and well plastered with mud or clay, to the thickness of about four inches, upon which is placed, very neatly, layers of turf, so that the whole, at a little distance, looks like a mound of verdant earth. Three holes, about four inches in diameter, for the men inside to see and fire through, are neatly cut; one is in the front, and one on each side. Very frequently there is a fourth at the top. This is for the purpose of firing from at the wild-fowl as they pass over. The fowlers, lying upon their backs, discharge guess shots at the birds, who are only heard by the noise of their wings in their flight. Fowlers, with quick ears, attain considerable expertness in this guess-firing.

The numbers that are shot in this way are incredible. They are usually therefore sold at a cheap rate. At forty sous a couple, (1_s._ 8_d._ English) they are dear, but the price varies according to their condition.

In the larger drawing, I have given the appearance of the country and of the atmosphere at this season, and a duck-shooter with his gun near his hut, on the look out for coming flocks; but I fear wood engraving, excellent as it is for most purposes, will fall very short of the capability of engraving on copper to convey a correct idea of the romantic effect of the commingling cloud, mist, and sunshine, I have endeavoured to represent in this delightful part of France. Such as it is, it is at your service to do with as you please.

For myself, though for the sake of variety, I have now and then crept into a fowler’s hut, and shot in ambuscade, I prefer open warfare, and I assure you I have had capital sport. That you may be acquainted with some of these wild-fowl, I will just mention the birds I have shot here within the last three weeks, beginning with the godwit; their names in French are from my recollection of Buffon.

_The Godwit._

Common Godwit, _la grand barge_.
Red Godwit, _la barge rousse_.
Cinereous Godwit, (_Bewick_).
Cambridge Godwit, (_Latham_).
Green-shanked Godwit, _la barge variée_.
Red-legged Godwit, _le chevalier rouge_.
Redshank, _le chevalier aux pieds rouges_.

_Sandpipers._

Ruffs and Reeves, _le combattant_.
Green Sandpiper, _le bécasseau, ou cul-blanc_.
Common Sandpiper, _la guignette_.
Brown Sandpiper, (_Bewick_.)
Dunlin, _la brunette_.
Ox-eye, _l’alouette de mer_.
Little Stint, _la petite alouette de mer_, (_Brisson_) &c. &c.

_Curlews._

Curlew, _la courles_.
Whimbiel, _le petite courles_.

_Heron._

Common, _le heron hupe_.
Bittern, _le butor_.
Little Bittern, _le blongois_.

_Ducks._

The common Wild Duck, _le canard sauvage_.
Gadwell, or Gray, _le chipeau_.
Widgeon, _le canard siffleur_.
Pochard, _penelope_, _le millovin_.
Pintail, _le canard à longue queue_.
Golden-eye, _le garrot_.
Morillon, _le morillon_.
Tufted Duck, _le petit morillon_. (_Brisson._)
Gargany, _la sarcelle_.
Teal, _la petite sarcelle_.

If you were here you should have a “gentleman’s recreation,” of the most delightful kind. Your propensity to look for “old masters,” would turn into looking out for prime birds. The spotted red-shanks, or barkers, as they are sometimes called, would be fine fellows for _you_, who are fond of achieving difficulties. They come in small flocks, skimming about the different ponds into which they run to the height of the body, picking up insects from the bottom, and looking as if they had no legs. They are excessively wary, and above all, the most difficult to get near. Confound all “black letter” say I, if it keeps a man from such delightful scenes as I have enjoyed every hour since I came here; as to picture-loving--come and see _these_ pictures which never tire by looking at. I like a good picture though myself, and shall pick up some prints at Paris to put with my others. You may be certain therefore of my collecting something for you, after the birds have left, especially wood cuts. I shall accomplish what I can in the scrap and story-book way, which is not quite in my line, yet I think I know what you mean. In my next you shall have something about lark-shooting, which, in England, is nothing compared with what the north of France affords.

I am, &c.

J. J. H.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

White Cedar. _Cupressus thyoides._
Dedicated to _St. Olympias_.

~December 18.~

_Sts. Rufus_ and _Zozimus_, A. D. 116. _St. Gatian_, 1st. Bp. of
Tours, 3d. Cent. _St. Winebald_, A. D. 760.

THE ASS AND THE CAMEL.

Fault was found because a newspaper commenced a police-office report of one of the humane endeavours of the warm-hearted member for Galway, in behalf of the proverbially most patient of all quadrupeds, by saying, “Mr. Martin came to this office with another ass.” Ridicule, however, never injures a just man with the just-minded; Mr. Martin has been properly supported in every judicious effort by public opinion.

The notice of the all-enduring ass, in former pages, occasions a letter from a gentleman, (with his name) whose researches have been directed to the geographical and natural history of foreign countries. In this communication he refers to a work of considerable interest relative to Africa, which it may be important for inquirers regarding the interior of that region to be acquainted with.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,

_November_ 29, 1825.

The facetious TIM TIMS, in your _Every-Day Book_, of the 19th of September, (p. 1309.) cites the amusing and accurate Leo Africanus, as asserting “that asses may be taught to dance to music.” This is an error. Leo, in his description of Africa, (Elzevir edition, 1632. p. 749.) says, “I saw in Cairo a _camel_ dance to the sound of a drum, and as the master told me, this is the mode of teaching: a young camel is selected and placed for half an hour in a place prepared for him of about the size of a stove, the pavement of which is heated by fire. Some one then, outside the door, beats the drum, and the camel, not on account of the music, but of the fire by which his feet are hurt, lifts first one leg then another, after the manner of a dancer, and after having been thus trained for ten or twelve months, he is led into public, when, on hearing the drum, and remembering the burning of his feet, he immediately begins to jump, and thinking himself to be on the same floor, he raises himself on his hind legs, and appears to dance; and so, use becoming second nature, he continues to do.”

The only ass described by Leo, is the ass of the woods, found only in the desert or its borders. It yields to the Barb, or Arabian, (Leo says they are the same,) in swiftness, and is caught with the greatest difficulty. When feeding, or drinking, he is always moving.

A word more about the camel. He is of a most kind and mild nature, and partakes in a manner of the sense of man. If, at any time, between Ethiopia and Barbary (in the great desert) the day’s journey is longer than ordinary, he is not to be driven on by stripes (or beating,) but the driver sings certain short songs, by which the camel being allured, he goes on with such swiftness, that no one is able to keep up with him.

When I open this highly valued book, I never know when to close it; and, indeed, the less at this time, when we are all on tip-toe with respect to Africa.

Now it does appear strange to me, that not one word has been said, either by the travellers, or those who have traced them, about this little work. One reason may be, that it has never been wholly translated into English. It is called by Hartman, (who has been deemed the ablest editor of these oriental authors,) a golden book, which had he wanted, he should as frequently have wanted light. The author, who was a man of a noble family and great acquirements, had been at Tombuto twice at least. Once he accompanied his father on his embassy from the king of Fez to that city, and afterwards as a merchant. This must have been at the very beginning of the sixteenth century, for he finished this work at Rome, the 5th of March, 1526. He describes Tombuto, as well as Bornou, and Cano, and many other of the Negro kingdoms with great minuteness, and with respect to the Niger, (which, like the Nile, rises, falls, and fertilizes the country,) he says, that its course is from the kingdom of Tombuto towards the west as far as Ginea or Jinnea, and even Melli, which joins the ocean at the same place where the Niger empties itself into the sea. He also says, that at Cabra, which is situate on the Niger, about twelve miles from Tombuto, the merchants sailing to Ginea or Melli, go on board their vessels.

Moore, who resided as a writer and factor under the African company, at the mouth of the Gambia, about five years, and in 1738, published his travels, describing the several nations for the space of six hundred miles up that river, concludes that river and the Niger to be the same. In this work will be found an English translation from the Italian, of parts of Leo’s work.

Jackson is a coxcomb, who copies without acknowledgment. He fancies the Niger runs backwards, and joins the Nile, after which they most fraternally run into the Mediterranean.

I am, &c.

T. O.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

New Holland Cyprus. _Cupressus Australis._
Dedicated to _St. Winebald_.

~December 19.~

_St. Nemesion_, &c., A. D. 250. _St. Samthana_, Abbess, A. D. 738.

CELESTIAL SCENERY.

By the contemplation of the “shining heavens” at this season, the mind is induced to the solemn thinking, beautifully imagined by the greatest and most wayward poet of our age.

_A Starlight Winter Night._

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains.--Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness,
I learn’d the language of another world.
I do remember me, that in my youth,
When I was wandering,--upon such a night
I stood within the Coloseum’s wall,
’Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;
The trees which grew along the broken arches
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin: from afar
The watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; and
More near from out the Cæsars’ palace came
The owl’s long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot--where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through levell’d battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel’s place of growth;--
But the gladiators’ bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!
While Cæsar’s chambers, and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.--
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which softened down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill’d up,
As ’twere, anew, the gaps of centuries;
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o’er
With silent worship.

_Byron._

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Two-coloured Heath. _Erica bicolor._
Dedicated to _St. Samthana_.

~December 20.~

_St. Philogonius_, Bp. of Antioch, A. D. 322. _St. Paul_, of Latrus,
or Latra, A. D. 956.

THE BATH SEASON.

Mr. Foster’s letter, inserted on the 17th instant, occasions the seasonable recollection, that this is the time when, in fashionable language, “every body” goes to Bath.

According to fabulous history, the virtues of the hot springs at Bath, were discovered long before the christian era, by Bladud, a British prince, who having been driven from his father’s house because he was leprous, was reduced like the prodigal son to keep swine. His pigs, says the story, had the same disease as himself; in their wanderings they came to this valley, and rolled in the mud where these waters stagnated; and healed them. Whereupon prince Bladud, attaining “to the height of this great argument,” tried the same remedy with the same success, and when he became king, built a city upon the spot--the famous city of Bath.

_Nash._

Beau Nash, the founder of the theatre at Bath, made laws to regulate when and where the company should assemble, and when they should separate; arranged the tactics of the dance; enacted the dress in which ladies should appear; and, if they ventured to disobey, whatever was their rank, turned them back. His strong sense and sarcastic humour, being supported by a prevailing sense of propriety, kept offenders of this sort in awe. It has been said that such a man in old times, would have been selected for the king’s fool; he seems to have considered himself in that relation to the Bath visiters, and made use of the privilege the character allowed him. He lived on the follies of mankind, and cultivated them. He gambled, and his profits and his office required and enabled him to live expensively, sport a gay equipage, and keep a large retinue. Yet he became old and helpless, and lived to need that charity which he had never withheld from the needy, but which none extended to him. He died poor, neglected, and miserable; and the inhabitants of Bath rewarded his services and genius, in the usual manner; they erected a statue to the honour of the man whom they had suffered almost to starve.

His loss, to the assemblies was exemplified in a very remarkable manner. Two ladies of quality quarrelled in the ball-room. The company took part, some on one side, some on the other: Nash was gone, and his successor in office did not inherit his authority: the partizans as well as the combatants became outrageous, a real battle-royal took place, and caps, lappets, curls, cushions, diamond pins, and pearls, strewed the floor of those rooms, wherein during Nash’s time order was supreme.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Stone Pine. _Pinus Pinea._
Dedicated to _St. Philogonius_.

~December 21.~

_St. Thomas_, the Apostle. _St. Edburge._

~St. Thomas.~

This apostle is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. He is affirmed to have travelled and promulgated christianity among the Parthians, Medes, Persians, and Carmenians, and to have been the apostle of the Indies; where he effected numerous conversions, and by his preaching raised the indignation of the Bramins, who instigated the people against him till they threw stones and darts at him, and ended his life by running him through the body with a lance.

* * * * *

It is said that the body of the apostle was carried to the city of Edessa. On the discovery of Malabar, by the Portuguese, they found there the Nestorian christians of St. Thomas, whom they treated as heretics, and held a council, which passed decrees for their purgation. Yet many of the Malabarians still maintain the Nestorian doctrines and ceremonies, and refuse to acknowledge the authority of the pope.

* * * * *

Ribadeneira pretends that on the eve of Christmas, in the church of St. Thomas at Malabar, a stone cross commences to shed blood as soon as the Jesuits begin to say mass, “and not before.” He says, “The holy cross also begins, by little and little, to change its natural colour, which is white, turning into yellow, and afterwards into black, and from black into azure colour, until the sacrifice of the mass being ended, it returns to its natural colour: and that which augments both admiration and devotion is, that, as the holy cross changes its colours, it distils certain little drops of blood, and by little and little they grow thicker, until they fall in so great abundance that the clothes with which they wipe it are dyed with the same blood: and if any year this miracle fail, it is held as a certain sign of great calamity that is to come upon them, as experience has shown them.” Perhaps it is further miraculous, that in a country where there is liberty of thought and speech, and a free press, no stone cross will do the like.

ST. THOMAS’S DAY.

Going a _gooding_ on St. Thomas’s day formerly prevailed in England. Women begged money, and in return presented the donors with sprigs of palm and branches of primroses.[413] Mr. Ellis says, “this practice is still kept up in Kent, in the neighbourhood of Maidstone.” Mr. Brand adds, “My servant B. Jelkes, who is from Warwickshire, informs me that there is a custom in that county for the poor on St. Thomas’s day to go with a bag to beg corn of the farmers, which they call going _a corning_.”

LONDON ELECTIONS.

In London, on St. Thomas’s day, wardmotes are held for the election of the inquest and common councilmen, and other officers, who are annually chosen for the service and representation of the respective wards.

It is a remarkable fact that the majority of the inhabitants, in many wards, are indifferent to these elections, and suffer their ample franchise to run to waste, like housewives who are careless of their serviceable water; hence important offices are frequently filled by persons either ignorant of the duties they should discharge, or indifferent to them, or unqualified to understand them.

_The Ward Inquests._

From “An Inquiry into the Nature and Duties of the Office of Inquest Jurymen,” by Mr. Thomas Newell, of Cripplegate Ward, published in 1825, it appears that the ward inquest should be elected on St. Thomas’s day, _before_ the common councilmen are elected, inasmuch as “the alderman is commanded by his precept from the lord mayor, to give all the articles of the precept in charge to the inquest; which they cannot take charge of unless they are elected first.” It is now the common practice of wardmotes, to elect the inquest _last_. This has arisen, perhaps, from what may be called, in the ordinary sense of the word, the “political” importance usually attached to the election of the common councilmen, and by this means the inquest, though foremost in power, has been degraded in rank, and sunk into comparative insignificance. Withal it is to be observed, that the inquest, with the aldermen, are the returning officers of the election of the common councilmen; so that where the practice prevails of electing the inquest last, such inquests are in fact constituted too late to take cognizance, as an inquest, of the election of the common council, and such inquests are consequently incompetent upon their oaths, as inquest men, to return the common councilmen as having been truly and duly elected.

It appears further, that another extraordinary inroad has been made in London, upon the right of the wardmote inquests to return the jurors to serve in the mayor’s and sheriffs’ courts of the city. By some by-law or order of the court of aldermen, that court claims to exercise this most important and ancient right of the wardmote inquests; and issues a precept to the alderman of each ward, requiring him to acquaint the inquest “that they are not hereafter to intermeddle or concern themselves in the making of the said returns.” This mandate is said to be conformed to at this time by all the inquests; so that the court of aldermen seems to have obtained the inquests to surrender their right to nominate the juries in the city courts, without a struggle. If the proceedings of the court of aldermen were illegal, it is clear that each alderman, in his own ward, illegally dispossessed each inquest of its right, and then, exercised their usurped power when they met together as a court of aldermen.

* * * * *

From the elections in each ward on this day, the citizens are all in a hurry, and there is much discussion at the few remaining clubs and tavern parlours in the different parishes, concerning the qualifications of the respective candidates. All freemen, being householders, are entitled to vote.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sparrowwort. _Erica passerina._
Dedicated to _St. Thomas_, Apostle.

[413] Gentleman’s Magazine, April, 1794.

~December 22.~

_St. Ischyrion_, A. D. 253. _Sts. Cyril_ and _Methodius_, A. D. 881.

_Clark, the Miser of Dundee._

On the 22d of December, 1817, died, at Dundee, aged sixty-six, Thomas Clark, a labouring man, who, by dint of parsimony and saving, had accumulated property to the amount of from 800_l._ to 1000_l._ before his death. There are perhaps few authenticated instances of endurance which this person did not voluntarily submit to, in order to gratify his ruling passion. He lived by himself, in a small garret, in a filthy lane, called Tyndal’s Wynd. His diet consisted of a little oatmeal, stirred into hot water, which he begged from some one or other of the neighbours every morning, to save the expense of fuel. For many years he had laboured under a painful disorder, but would not put himself under the care of a surgeon, fearful of the cost. Driven at last to desperation by the intenseness of his sufferings, about twelve months previous to his decease, he sent for Mr. Crichton, who found him lying, in the most inclement season of the year, barely covered by an old tattered blanket. The furniture of the apartment consisted of about a dozen pair of old shoes, some old tattered clothes, a plough-share, a wooden dish, and horn spoon, a pair of scales and weights, a tub for holding meal, and an old crazy chair. Clark’s disorder having been ascertained to be stone in the bladder, he was told that a surgical operation would be necessary for his relief. This he expressed the utmost willingness to undergo; but when informed it would also be necessary to have him removed to a comfortable room, &c. his heart died within him, and he said he must continue as he was, until death relieved him. In vain was he told that every thing needful would be provided. He still persevered in his determination. Leaving a trifle with him to procure necessaries, Mr. Crichton descended from the garret, and made inquiry of the neighbours concerning this miserable object; from whom he received the account narrated. Possessed of this information he returned and rated the wretch for his miserable disposition; but all that could be obtained, was a promise to procure some bed-clothes, and to allow the operation to be performed in a room belonging to one of the neighbours, and immediately to be hoisted back to his own roost. The first morning after the operation he was found quarrelling and abusing the old woman left in charge of him, for her extravagance in making use of soap to wash the cloths that were occasionally taken from under him; and he expressed great exultation when she was given to understand that soap was not absolutely necessary for the purpose. A dose of castor oil that had been prescribed for him, he would not allow to be sent for; but in its place swallowed a piece of soap, which, he said, would equally answer the purpose, and at much less cost. The cure going on well, he was ordered some beef tea. The parting with threepence every morning to purchase half a pound of meat, was perfect torture, and recollecting a piece of old rusty bacon, which he had formerly picked up somewhere in his travels, he tried the expedient of converting part of it into beef tea, and drank it with seeming relish. Next morning, however, the old woman, alarmed for the consequences, insisted peremptorily for money to purchase fresh meat, at the same time acquainting him that a supply of coals was necessary. “The coals consumed already! Impossible! They should have served him for the winter! She must have carried off some of them! Threepence for meat and eighteen-pence for coals! It’s ruination! She must pack off immediately! But before she goes she must account for the two shillings received on the day of the operation!” The poor woman being somewhat confused could not bring to her recollection the disposal of more than 1_s._ 10_d._ It was then perfectly plain she was robbing his room, and ruining him by her extravagance, and she must go to prison! The garret was filled with the neighbours, alarmed by his noisy vociferation; and nothing they could say having pacified him, they sent for Mr. Crichton, who thought it might be a wise plan to leave him alone, and let him manage and feed himself in his own way. By the help of a good constitution, he soon recovered his health, but never could forget the expenses he had been put to during his confinement. The failure also of some people holding money of his in their hands, tended much to embitter the remainder of his life: and he was often observed lamenting his misfortunes; frequently saying aloud, “all bankrupts should be hanged!” There would be no end to the detail of this miserable creature’s miserable eccentricities. On a bitter cold day, he went into one of the neighbour’s rooms to warm himself, before ascending to his comfortless loft. The next morning he was found almost stiff with cold, and unable to move--the bed clothes, which he had been made to provide himself with the year before, were lying folded up in a corner; he had not the heart to use them. On Sunday he lost the use of his faculties; and on Monday he breathed his last. His only surviving sister, a poor old woman, living somewhere in Strathmore, inherited his property.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Pellucid Heath. _Erica pellucida._
Dedicated to _St. Cyril_.

~December 23.~

_St. Servuius_, A. D. 590. _Ten Martyrs of Crete._ _St. Victoria_, A.
D. 250.

_A Trifling Mistake._

In December, 1822, the _Morning Chronicle_ states the following whimsical circumstance to have taken place at the Black Swan inn, at York:--

An honest son of Neptune travelling northwards, having put up there for the night, desired the chambermaid to call him early the next morning, as he wished to proceed on his journey by the coach; and added, “as I am a very sound sleeper, you will most likely be obliged to come in and shake me.” Accordingly he left his door unfastened, and soon fell asleep. The next morning when he awoke, he found the sun was high, and the coach must have left him some hours behind. Vexation was his first feeling, the next was that of vengeance against the faithless Molly. Accordingly he proceeded to inform himself of the time of day, that he might tax her accurately with her omission, which was aggravated, in his mind, by every additional hour that he had lost; but after groping for some time under his pillow for his watch, it was not to be found! This effectually roused him, and he launched at once out of bed, but no sooner found himself on his feet, than he discovered that his clothes had likewise vanished. It was now evident to him that he had been robbed; however a little more rubbing of the eyes convinced him that he must have been also _stolen himself_, as the room, bed, and furniture, were all strange to him! Indeed, he was positive in his own mind, that he had never beheld them before. It was equally clear to him that he had gone to bed sober; so being completely puzzled, Jack sate himself down on the bed to “make a calculation,” as he often had done at sea, in order to discover, if possible, in what precise part of the globe he just then happened to be, and how he came there. He had read of the enchanted carpet, by which persons could be transported to the remotest parts of the world in the twinkling of an eye; but he never had heard that these fairy tricks had been played at or near York, to which place he had now distinctly traced himself by his “_log_.” His next thought was to “_take an observation_,” by looking out of the window, but he could observe nothing but tops of houses. This view, however, rejoiced his sight, for, thought he, I am still in a civilized country; this place _may be York_, where, if my senses do not deceive me, I went to bed last night, at all events I shall have justice done me. But the enigma still remained unexplained, and poor Jack had no clothes to go in quest of a solution. At last he spied a bell-rope, and giving it a hearty tug, leaped into bed again to wait the issue, come who might. It was no enchanter who answered this summons, but only poor Molly. “So _you_ are there, are you? Pray why did you not call me at seven o’clock, as I desired you?” “I did, sir, but you did not answer me.” “Then, why did you not come in and shake me?” “I did come in, sir, but you were gone.” “I tell you I have not been out of bed all night; you must have gone to the wrong room.” “No, sir, I went to No. 22, the room that I put you in last night; besides, there was your watch under the pillow, your impression in the bed, and your clothes placed ready for putting on.” “Then, where the devil _am_ I? and how came I here?” “You are a story higher, sir; just over your own room.” Our hero was now satisfied that he had been rambling over the house in his sleep, and had mistaken a story in returning to his own room. He then recollected that this was a trick to which he had been addicted when a boy, and he devised that the fatigue of a long journey had probably chiefly contributed to revive his old habit. The whole affair was now accounted for, and Molly proceeded to fetch the clothes of the disenchanted knight, resolving within herself never to trust her own door open again, lest it should be entered accidentally by some sleep-walking traveller.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Cedar of Lebanon. _Pinus cedrus._
Dedicated to _St. Victoria_.

~To the Reader.~

I am encouraged, by the approbation of my labours, to persevere in the completion of my plan, and to continue this little work next year as usual.

Not a sentence that has appeared in the preceding sheets will be repeated, and the Engravings will be entirely new.

_December_, 1825.

W. HONE.

~December 24.~

_Sts. Thrasilla_ and _Emiliana_. _St. Gregory_, of Spoleto, A. D. 304.

~Christmas Eve.~

This is the vigil of that solemn festival which commemorates the day that gave

“To man a saviour--freedom to the slave.”

In the last days of Advent the Calabrian minstrels enter Rome, and are to be seen in every street saluting the shrines of the virgin mother with their wild music, under the traditional notion of soothing her until the birth-time of her infant at the approaching Christmas. This circumstance is related by lady Morgan, who observed them frequently stopping at the shop of a carpenter. To questions concerning this practice, the workmen, who stood at the door, said it was done out of respect to St. Joseph. The preceding engraving, representing this custom, is from a clever etching by D. Allan, a Scottish artist of great merit. In Mr. Burford’s excellent panorama of the ruins of Pompeii, exhibited in the Strand, groups of these peasantry are celebrating the festival of the patron saint of the master of a vineyard. The printed “Description” of the panorama says, these mountaineers are called _Pifferari_, and “play a pipe very similar in form and sound to the bagpipes of the Highlanders.” It is added, as lady Morgan before observed, that “just before Christmas they descend from the mountains to Naples and Rome, in order to play before the pictures of the Virgin and Child, which are placed in various parts of every Italian town.” In a picture of the Nativity by Raphael, he has introduced a shepherd at the door playing on the bagpipes.

_Christmas Carols._

Carol is said to be derived from _cantare_, to sing, and _rola_, an interjection of joy.[414] It is rightly observed by Jeremy Taylor, that “Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, and good-will towards men,” the song of the angels on the birth of the Saviour, is the first Christmas carol.

Anciently, bishops carolled at Christmas among their clergy; but it would be diverging into a wide field to exemplify ecclesiastical practices on this festival; and to keep close to the domestic usages of the season, church customs of that kind will not now be noticed.

In Mr. Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” he gives the subjoined Anglo-Norman carol, from a MS. in the British Museum,[415] with the accompanying translation by his “very learned and communicative friend, Mr. Douce; in which it will easily be observed that the translator has necessarily been obliged to amplify, but endeavours every where to preserve the sense of the original.”

_Anglo-Norman Carol._

Seignors ore entendez a nus,
De loinz sumes venuz a wous,
Pur quere NOEL;
Car lem nus dit que en cest hostel
Soleit tenir sa feste anuel
Ahi cest iur.
Deu doint a tuz icels joie d’amurs
Qi a DANZ NOEL ferunt honors.

Seignors io vus di por veir
KE DANZ NOEL ne uelt aveir
Si joie non;
E repleni sa maison,
De payn, de char, & de peison,
Por faire honor.
Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.

Seignors il est crie en lost,
Qe cil qui despent bien & tost,
E largement;
E fet les granz honors sovent
Deu li duble quanque il despent
Por faire honor.
Deu doint a.

Seignors escriez les malveis,
Car vus nel les troverez jameis
De bone part:
Botun, batun, ferun groinard,
Car tot dis a le quer cuuard
Por faire honor.
Deu doint.

NOEL beyt bein li vin Engleis
E li Gascoin & li Franceys
E l’Angeuin.
NOEL fait beivre son veisin,
Si quil se dort, le chief en clin,
Sovent le ior.
Deu doint a tuz cels.

Seignors io vus di par NOEL,
E par li sires de cest hostel,
Car beuez ben:
E io primes beurai le men,
E pois apres chescon le soen,
Par mon conseil,
Si io vus di trestoz Wesseyl
Dehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl.

_Translation._

Now, lordings, listen to our ditty,
Strangers coming from afar;
Let poor minstrels move your pity,
Give us welcome, soothe our care
In this mansion, as they tell us,
Christmas wassell keeps to day;
And, as the king of all good fellows,
Reigns with uncontrouled sway.

Lordings, in these realms of pleasure,
Father Christmas yearly dwells;
Deals out joy with liberal measure,
Gloomy sorrow soon dispels:
Numerous guests, and viands dainty,
Fill the hall and grace the board;
Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty,
Solid pleasures here afford.

Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind,
That on the needy much bestows,
From Heav’n a sure reward shall find;
From Heav’n, whence ev’ry blessing flows.
Who largely gives with willing hand,
Or quickly gives with willing heart,
His fame shall spread throughout the land,
His memory thence shall ne’er depart.

Lordings, grant not your protection
To a base, unworthy crew,
But cherish, with a kind affection,
Men that are loyal, good, and true.
Chace from your hospitable dwelling
Swinish souls, that ever crave;
Virtue they can ne’er excel in,
Gluttons never can be brave.

Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking,
Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416]
English ale, that drives out thinking,
Prince of liquors old or new.
Every neighbour shares the bowl,
Drinks of the spicy liquor deep,
Drinks his fill without controul,
Till he drowns his care in sleep.

And now--by Christmas, jolly soul!
By this mansion’s generous sire!
By the wine, and by the bowl,
And all the joys they both inspire!
Here I’ll drink a health to all.
The glorious task shall first be mine:
And ever may foul luck befal
Him that to pledge me shall decline!

THE CHORUS.

Hail, father Christmas! hail to thee!
Honour’d ever shalt thou be!
All the sweets that love bestows,
Endless pleasures, wait on those
Who, like vassals brave and true,
Give to Christmas homage due.

* * * * *

From what has been observed of Christmas carols in another work, by the editor, a few notices will be subjoined with this remark, that the custom of singing carols at Christmas is very ancient; and though most of those that exist at the present day are deficient of interest to a refined ear, yet they are calculated to awaken tender feelings. For instance, one of them represents the virgin contemplating the birth of the infant, and saying,

“He neither shall be clothed
in purple nor in pall,
But all in fair linen,
as were babies all:
He neither shall be rock’d
in silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden cradle,
that rocks on the mould.”

Not to multiply instances at present, let it suffice that in a MS. at the British Museum[417] there is “A song on the holly and the ivy,” beginning,

“Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys,
Let holy hafe the maystry, as the maner ys:

“Holy stond in the hall, fayre to behold,
Ivy stond without the dore, she ys ful sore acold.

“_Nay my nay_,” &c.

“Holy, & hys mery men, they dawnsyn and they syng,
Ivy and hur maydyns, they wepyn & they wryng.

“_Nay my nay_,” &c.

The popularity of carol-singing occasioned the publication of a duodecimo volume in 1642, intituled, “Psalmes or Songs of Sion, turned into the language, and set to the tunes of a strange land. By W(illiam) S(latyer), _intended for Christmas carols_, and fitted to divers of the most noted and common but solemne tunes, every where in this land familiarly used and knowne.” Upon the copy of this book in the British Museum, a former possessor has written the names of some of the tunes to which the author designed them to be sung: for instance, Psalm 6, to the tune of _Jane Shore_; Psalm 19, to _Bar. Forster’s Dreame_; Psalm 43, to _Crimson Velvet_; Psalm 47, to _Garden Greene_; Psalm 84, to _The fairest Nymph of the Valleys_; &c.

In a carol, still sung, called “Dives and Lazarus,” there is this amusing account:

“As it fell it out, upon a day,
Rich Dives sicken’d and died,
There came two serpents out of hell,
His soul therein to guide.

“Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
And come along with me,
For you’ve a place provided in hell,
To sit upon _a serpent’s_ knee.”

However whimsical this may appear to the reader, he can scarcely conceive its ludicrous effect, when the “serpent’s knee” is solemnly drawn out to its utmost length by a Warwickshire chanter, and as solemnly listened to by the well-disposed crowd, who seem, without difficulty, to believe that Dives sits on a serpent’s _knee_. The idea of sitting on this knee was, perhaps, conveyed to the poet’s mind by old wood-cut representations of Lazarus seated in Abraham’s lap. More anciently, Abraham was frequently drawn holding him up by the sides, to be seen by Dives in hell. In an old book now before me, they are so represented, with the addition of a devil blowing the fire under Dives with a pair of bellows.

* * * * *

Carols begin to be spoken of as not belonging to this century, and few, perhaps, are aware of the number of these compositions now printed. The editor of the _Every-Day Book_ has upwards of ninety, all at this time, published annually.

This collection he has had little opportunity of increasing, except when in the country he has heard an old woman singing an old carol, and brought back the carol in his pocket with less chance of its escape, than the tune in his head.

Mr. Southey, describing the fight “upon the plain of Patay,” tells of one who fell, as having

“In his lord’s castle dwelt, for many a year,
A well-beloved servant: he could sing
Carols for Shrove-tide, or for Candlemas,
Songs for the wassel, and when the boar’s head
Crown’d with gay garlands, and with rosemary,
Smoak’d on the Christmas board.”

_Joan of Arc_, b. x. l. 466.

These ditties, which now exclusively enliven the industrious servant-maid, and the humble labourer, gladdened the festivity of royalty in ancient times. Henry VII., in the third year of his reign, kept his Christmas at Greenwich: on the twelfth night, after high mass, the king went to the hall, and kept his estate at the table; in the middle sat the dean, and those of the king’s chapel, who, immediately after the king’s first course, “sang a _carall_.”[418]--Granger innocently observes, that “they that fill the highest and the lowest classes of human life, seem in many respects to be more nearly allied than even themselves imagine. A skilful anatomist would find little or no difference in dissecting the body of a king, and that of the meanest of his subjects; and a judicious philosopher would discover a surprising conformity in discussing the nature and qualities of their minds.”[419]

* * * * *

The earliest collection of Christmas carols supposed to have been published, is only known from the last leaf of a volume printed by Wynkn de Worde, in the year 1521. This precious scrap was picked up by Tom Hearne; Dr. Rawlinson purchased it at his decease in a volume of tracts, and bequeathed it to the Bodleian library. There are two carols upon it: one, “a caroll of huntynge,” is reprinted in the last edition of Juliana Berners’ “Boke of St. Alban’s;” the other, “a caroll, bringing in the bore’s head,” is in Mr. Dibdin’s “Ames,” with a copy of it as it is now sung in Queen’s-college, Oxford, every Christmas-day. Dr. Bliss, of Oxford, also printed on a sheet for private distribution, a few copies of this and Ant. à Wood’s version of it, with notices concerning the custom, from the hand-writings of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the Bodleian library. Ritson, in his ill-tempered “Observations on Warton’s History of English Poetry,” (1782, 4to. p. 37,) has a Christmas carol upon bringing up the boar’s head, from an ancient MS. in his possession, wholly different from Dr. Bliss’s. The “Bibliographical Miscellanies,” (Oxford, 1813, 4to.) contains seven carols from a collection in one volume in the possession of Dr. Cotton, of Christchurch-college, Oxford, “imprynted at London, in the Powltry, by Richard Kele, dwellyng at the longe shop vnder saynt Myldrede’s Chyrche,” probably “between 1546 and 1552.” I had an opportunity of perusing this exceedingly curious volume, which is supposed to be unique, and has since passed into the hands of Mr. Freeling. There are carols among the _Godly and Spiritual Songs and Balates_, in “Scottish Poems of the sixteenth century,” (1801, 8vo.); and one by Dunbar, from the Bannatyne MS. in “Ancient Scottish Poems.” Others are in Mr. Ellis’s edition of Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” with several useful notices. Warton’s “History of English Poetry” contains much concerning _old_ carols. Mr. Douce, in his “Illustrations of Shakspeare,” gives a specimen of the carol sung by the shepherds, on the birth of Christ, in one of the Coventry plays. There is a sheet of carols headed thus: “CHRISTUS NATUS EST: _Christ is born_;” with a wood-cut, 10 inches high, by 8½ inches wide, representing the stable at Bethlehem; Christ in the crib, watched by the virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling; angels attending; a man playing on the bagpipes; a woman with a basket of fruit on her head; a sheep bleating, and an ox lowing on the ground; a raven croaking, and a crow cawing on the hay-rack; a cock crowing above them; and angels singing in the sky. The animals have labels from their mouths, bearing Latin inscriptions. Down the side of the wood-cut is the following account and explanation: “A religious man, inventing the conceits of both birds and beasts, drawn in the picture of our Saviour’s birth, doth thus express them: the cock croweth, _Christus natus est_, Christ is born. The raven asked, _Quando?_ When? The crow replied, _Hac nocte_, This night. The ox cryeth out, _Ubi? Ubi?_ Where? where? The sheep bleated out, _Bethlehem_, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven sounded, _Gloria in Excelsis_, Glory be on high.--London: printed and sold by J. Bradford, in Little Britain, the corner house over against the Pump, 1701. Price One Penny.” This carol is in the possession of Mr. Upcott.

The custom of singing carols at Christmas prevails in Ireland to the present time. In Scotland, where no church feasts have been kept since the days of John Knox, the custom is unknown. In Wales it is still preserved to a greater extent, perhaps, than in England; at a former period, the Welsh had carols adapted to most of the ecclesiastical festivals, and the four seasons of the year, but in our times they are limited to that of Christmas. After the turn of midnight at Christmas-eve, service is performed in the churches, followed by the singing of carols to the harp. Whilst the Christmas holidays continue, they are sung in like manner in the houses, and there are carols especially adapted to be sung at the doors of the houses by visiters before they enter. _Lffyr Carolan_, or the book of carols, contains sixty-six for Christmas, and five summer carols; _Blodeugerdd Cymrii_, or the “Anthology of Wales,” contains forty-eight Christmas carols, nine summer carols, three May carols, one winter carol, one nightingale carol, and a carol to Cupid. The following verse of a carol for Christmas is literally translated from the first mentioned volume. The poem was written by Hugh Morris, a celebrated song-writer during the commonwealth, and until the early part of the reign of William III:--

“To a saint let us not pray, to a pope let us not kneel;
On Jesu let us depend, and let us discreetly watch
To preserve our souls from Satan with his snares;
Let us not in morning invoke any one else.”

With the succeeding translation of a _Welsh wassail song_, the observer of manners will, perhaps, be pleased. In Welsh, the lines of each couplet, repeated inversely, still keep the same sense.