BEATING THE LAPSTONE.

_For the Table Book._

There is a custom of “beating the lapstone,” the day after Christmas, at

Nettleton, near Burton. The shoemakers beat the lapstone at the houses

of all water-drinkers, in consequence of a neighbour, Thomas Stickler,

who had not tasted malt liquor for twenty years, having been made tipsy

by drinking only a _half pint of ale_ at his shoemaker’s, at Christmas.

When he got home, he tottered into his house, and his good dame said,

“John, where have you been?--why, you are in liquor?”--“No, I am not,”

hiccuped John, “I’ve only _fell over the lapstone_, and that has _beaten

my leg_, so as I can’t walk quite right.” Hence the annual practical

joke--“beating the lapstone.”