Where a well-grounded doubt exists, an a_The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 2 (of 3) or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac

name.

Howard

* Spencer

* Montagu

Clinton

Talbot

Stanley

Hastings

Grey

Berkeley

Windsor

Lumley

West

Neville

Devereux

Courtenay

Stourton

Clifford

Willoughby

* Basset

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·50.

~August 23.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 23, 1305, sir William Wallace, “the peerless knight of Elleslie,”

who bravely defended Scotland against Edward I. was executed by order of

that monarch on Tower-hill. This distinguished individual is popular in

England five hundred years after his death, through the well-known

ballad

“Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,” &c.

THE SEASON.

Swallows are now preparing for their departure. On this day, in 1826,

the editor observed hundreds of them collecting so high in the air that

they seemed of the size of flies; they remained wheeling about and

increasing in number upwards of an hour before dusk, when they all took

their flight in a south-western direction.

CHELDONIZING, OR SWALLOW SINGING.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book_

Sir,--The recent, and it is hoped still continued subscriptions in aid

of suffering humanity, induce an observation, that to the very remote

origin of collecting general alms, may be traced most of the mummeries

practised in Christendom in the gothic centuries, and in the English

counties, even till within our own memory. Among the Rhodians one method

of soliciting eleemosynary gifts, called cheldonizing, or

swallow-singing, is corroboratory of the assertion. This benevolence, or

voluntary contribution, was instituted by Cleobulus of Lindos, at a time

when public necessity drove the Lindians to the expedient of soliciting

a general subscription. Theognis speaks of cheldonizing as taking place

among the sacred rites practised at Rhodes in the month Boëdromion, or

August, and deriving its name from the customary song:--

The swallow, the swallow is here,

With his back so black, and his belly so white;

He brings on the pride of the year,

With the gay months of love and the days of delight.

Come, bring out the good humming stuff,

Of your nice tit-bits let the swallow partake,

Of good bread and cheese give enough,

And a slice of your right Boëdromion cake.

Our hunger, our hunger it twinges,

So give my good masters, I pray;

Or we’ll pull off your door from its hinges,

And, ecod! we’ll steal young madam away.

She’s a nice little pocket-piece darling,

And faith ’twill be easy to carry her hence;

Away with old prudence so snarling,

And toss us down freely a handful of pence.

Come, let us partake of your cheer,

And loosen your purse strings so hearty;

No crafty old grey beards are here,

And see we’re a merry boy’s party,

And the swallow, the swallow is here!

Plutarch refers to another Rhodian custom, which is particularly

mentioned by Phœnix of Colophon, a writer of iambics, who describes the

practice being that of certain men going about to collect donations for

the crow, and singing or saying--

My good, worthy masters, a pittance bestow,

Some oatmeal, or barley, or wheat, for the crow;

A loaf or a penny, or e’en what you will,

As fortune your pockets may happen to fill.

From the poor man a grain of his salt may suffice,

For your crow swallows all, and is not very nice;

And the man who can now give his grain and no more,

May another day give from a plentiful store.

Come, my lad, to the door, Plutus nods to our wish,

And our sweet little mistress comes out with a dish;

She gives us her figs, and she gives us a smile,

Heaven bless her, and guard her from sorrow and guile;

And send her a husband of noble degree,

And a boy to be danc’d on his grand-daddy’s knee;

And a girl like herself to rejoice her good mother,

Who may one day present her with just such another.

God bless your dear hearts all a thousand times o’er!

Thus we carry our singing to door after door;

Alternately chanting, we ramble along,

And treat all who give, or give not, a song.

The song thus concludes--

My good, worthy masters, a pittance bestow,

Your bounty, my good, worthy mistresses throw;

Remember the crow, he is not very nice,

Do but give as you can, and the gift will suffice.

Pamphilius of Alexandria, in his chapter on names, says these men making

collections for the crow, were called coronistæ, or crow-mummers; and

their songs were named coronismata, as Hagnooles, the Rhodian, relates

in his work, entitled “Coronistæ.”

I am, &c.

J. H. B.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·92.

~August 24.~

ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

For St. Bartholomew, see vol. i. col. 1131.

MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

This horrible slaughter is noticed in the same volume at the same place.

For particulars of the probable amount of the persons massacred, and the

different accounts of historians, the reader is referred to a most able

article in the “Edinburgh Review, June, 1826,” on the extraordinary

misrepresentations of the event and its perpetrators in Mr. Lingard’s

“History of England.”

A RESIDENT IN THE FLEET.

On the twenty-fourth of August, 1736, a remarkably fat boar was taken up

in coming out of Fleet Ditch into the Thames: it proved to be a

butcher’s, near Smithfield-bars, who had missed him five months, all

which time, it seems, he had been in the common sewer, and was improved

in price from ten shillings to two guineas.[301]

THE FIRST PIGS IN SCOTLAND.

Within the last century (probably about 1720) a person in the parish of

Ruthwell, in Dumfriesshire, called the “Gudeman o’ the Brow,” received a

young swine as a present from some distant part; which seems to have

been the first ever seen in that part of the country. This pig having

strayed across the Lochar into the adjoining parish of Carlavroc, a

woman who was herding cattle on the marsh, by the sea side, was very

much alarmed at the sight of a living creature, that she had never seen

or heard of before, approaching her straight from the shore as if it had

come out of the sea, and ran home to the village of Blackshaw screaming.

As she ran, the pig ran snorking and grunting after her, seeming glad

that it had met with a companion. She arrived at the village so

exhausted and terrified, that before she could get her story told she

fainted away. By the time she came to herself, a crowd of people had

collected to see what was the matter, when she told them, that “There

was a diel came out of the sea with two horns in his head and chased

her, roaring and gaping all the way at her heels, and she was sure it

was not far off.” A man called Wills Tom, an old schoolmaster, said if

he could see it he would “cunger the diel,” and got a bible and an old

sword. The pig immediately started behind his back with a loud grumph,

which put him into such a fright, that his hair stood upright in his

head, and he was obliged to be carried from the field half dead.

The whole crowd ran some one way and some another; some reached the

house-tops, and others shut themselves in barns and byres. At last one

on the house-top called out it was “the Gudeman o’ the Brow’s grumphy,”

he having seen it before. Thus the affray was settled, and the people

reconciled, although some still entertained frightful thoughts about it,

and durst not go over the door to a neighbour’s house after dark without

one to set or cry them. One of the crowd who had some compassion on the

creature, called out, “give it a tork of straw to eat, it will be

hungry.”

Next day the pig was conveyed over the Lochar, and on its way home, near

the dusk of evening, it came grunting up to two men who were pulling

thistles on the farm of Cockpool. Alarmed at the sight, they mounted two

old horses they had tethered beside them, intending to make their way

home, but the pig getting between them and the houses, caused them to

scamper out of the way and land in Lochar moss, where one of their

horses was drowned, and the other with difficulty relieved. The night

being dark, they durst not part one from the other to call for

assistance, lest the monster should find them out and attack them

singly; nor durst they speak above their breath for fear of being

devoured. At day-break next morning they took a different course, by

Cumlongon castle, and made their way home, where they found their

families much alarmed on account of their absence. They said that they

had seen a creature about the size of a dog, with two horns on its head,

and cloven feet, roaring out like a lion, and if they had not galloped

away, it would have torn them to pieces. One of their wives said, “Hout

man, it has been the Gudeman of the Brow’s grumphy; it frightened them

a’ at the Blackshaw yesterday, and poor Meggie Anderson maist lost her

wits, and is ay out o ae fit into anither sin-syne.”

The pig happened to lay all night among the corn where the men were

pulling thistles, and about day-break set forward on its journey for the

Brow. One Gabriel Gunion, mounted on a long-tailed grey colt, with a

load of white fish in a pair of creels swung over the beast, encountered

the pig, which went nigh among the horse’s feet and gave a snork. The

colt, being as much frightened as Gabriel, wheeled about and scampered

off sneering, with his tail on his “riggin,” at full gallop. Gabriel cut

the slings and dropt the creels, the colt soon dismounted his rider, and

going like the wind, with his tail up, never stopped till he came to

Barnkirk point, where he took the Solway Frith and landed at Bownes, on

the Cumberland side. Gabriel, by the time he got up, saw the pig within

sight, took to his heels, as the colt was quite gone, and reached

Cumlongon wood in time to hide himself, where he staid all that day and

night, and next morning got home almost exhausted. He told a dreadful

story! The fright caused him to imagine the pig as big as a calf, having

long horns, eyes like trenchers, and a back like a hedgehog. He lost his

fish; the colt was got back, but never did more good; and Gabriel fell

into a consumption, and died about a year afterwards.

About the same time a vessel came to Glencaple quay, a little below

Dumfries, that had some swine on board; one of them having got out of

the vessel in the night, was seen on the farm of Newmains next morning.

The alarm was spread, and a number of people collected. The animal got

many different names, and at last it was concluded to be a “brock” (a

badger). Some got pitchforks, some clubs, and others old swords, and a

hot pursuit ensued; the chase lasted a considerable time, owing to the

pursuers losing heart when near their prey and retreating. One Robs

Geordy having rather a little more courage than the rest, ran “neck or

nothing,” forcibly upon the animal, and run it through with a pitchfork,

for which he got the name of “stout hearted Geordy” all his life after.

A man, nearly a hundred years of age, who was alive in 1814, in the

neighbourhood where this happened, declared that he remembered the

Gudeman of the Brow’s pig, and the circumstances related, and he said it

was the first swine ever seen in that country.[302]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·80.

[301] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[302] Henderson on the Breeding of Swine. 1814, 8vo.

~August 25.~

ISLINGTON CATTLE MARKET.

August 25, 1746, a distemper which arose among the horned cattle, broke

out afresh in the parts adjacent to London, and “the fair for the sale

of Welsh cattle near Islington was kept at Barnet.”[303]

IMPORTANT TO HOUSEKEEPERS.

The following letter from a lady claims the attention of every good

housewife at this particular season.

BLACKBERRY JAM.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Westbury, Wiltshire, Aug. 15, 1826._

Sir,--The importance that I attach to the above _sweet_ subject,--the

uses of “a _jam_” even may be important,--induces me to offer you the

option of republishing a few lines on the occasion, which first appeared

in a very condensed form last autumn, in the “Examiner” newspaper. I am

anxious to obtain further celebrity, and a wider circulation of the

merits which this wholesome dainty justly lay claim, and the success

that attended my former little notice of it, encourage me to persevere;

for I was informed that after the publication alluded to, the “Herald”

copied it, and that subsequently it was cried in the streets of your

dingy metropolis.

I can only judge of the prevailing quantity of the kindly blackberry, by

the vast profusion that enriches _our_ woody vales, where nature seems

resolved to solace herself for the restrictions to which she has been

confined by the dreary downs that skirt our beautiful vicinity; and

where Falstaff must surely have originated his happy expression of

“reasons being plenty as blackberries!” But I am keeping you too long

from the subject. The method of preparing the delicate conserve that

forms so large a portion of my children’s favourite _adjunctive_

aliment, is so simple, that it can be achieved by the merest novice in

the _nice_ department of “domestic management.”

Boil the blackberries with half their weight of coarse moist sugar for

three quarters of an hour,[304] keeping the mass stirred constantly. It

is a mistake to suppose that a stewpan is a necessary vehicle on the

occasion; the commonest tin saucepan will answer the purpose equally

well. The more luxurious preserves being made with _white_ sugar, and

that of equal weight with the fruit, are necessarily unwholesome; but

the cheapness of this homely delicacy, besides its sanative properties

renders it peculiarly desirable for scantily furnished tables. It has

been a “staple commodity” in my family for some years past, and with the

exception of _treacle_, I find it the most useful aliment in “regulating

_the bowels_” of my children;--you as a “family man,” sir, will excuse,

nay, appreciate the observation, and all your readers who have “_their

quivers full of them_,” will not disdain the _gratis_ prescription that

shall supersede the _guinea fee!_ Indeed, to the sparing use of butter,

and a liberal indulgence in _treacle_ and _blackberry jam_, I mainly

attribute the extraordinary health of my young family. The prodigal use,

or rather the abuse, of butter that pervades all classes, has often

surprised me: the very cottage children, whose tattered apparel bespeaks

abject poverty, I continually meet munching their “_hunks_” of bread,

smeared with butter; how much should I rejoice to see, because I _know_

its superiority in _every_ respect, my favourite jam substituted! But

_cottage children_ are far from being objects of my compassion, for they

live in the “country,” which comprehensive word conveys delicious ideas

of sun, fresh air, exercise, flowers, shady trees, and this wholesome

fruit clustering about them, and inviting their chubby fingers at every

healthful step. My pity is reserved for their forlorn little brethren,

doomed to breathe the unwholesome atmosphere of crowded manufactories,

and close narrow alleys in populous cities! What a luxury would a supper

be twice a week, for instance, to the poor little “bottoms” in

Spitalfields.[305] Who knows but they might receive their first taste

for Shakspeare while being fed, like their great prototype in the

“Midsummer Night’s Dream,” with blackberries! “_Dewberries_,” which

Titania ordered for the refreshment of her favourite, are so nearly

allied to their glossy neighbours, that when the season is far advanced

the two are not easily distinguished. Shakspeare, who knew every thing,

was of course aware that the dewberry ripens earlier than the

blackberry; namely, in the season for “apricots.” It must be confessed

that nothing but the associations that are connected with the elegant

and romantic name “dewberry,” fit only for the mouth of a fairy to

pronounce, could induce me to give a preference to the latter; they are

not so numerous, nor consequently so useful. I own I am sanguine

respecting the _general_ introduction of blackberries into the London

street cries. What an innovation they would cause! what a rural sight,

and sound, and taste, and smell, would they introduce into that

wilderness of houses! What a conjuring up of happy feelings--almost as

romantic as those that are inspired by “bilberries, ho!” When I resided

in London, I recollect the wild, and exquisite, and undefinable

sensations that were excited by the peculiar and un-city-like cry of

these “whorts.”[306] I used to look out at the blue-frocked boys who

sold them, with their heavy country faces; capacious “_gabardines_,”

that hinted of Caliban; round hats, that knew no touch of form; and

unaccountable laced up boots; with as much astonishment, as if I had

beheld and heard purveyors from the wilderness shouting “_Manna!_” which

we all know is “_angel’s food!_”

I have taken up sadly too much of your time, sir, I feel assured. I

intended but to name the method of making blackberry jam, to assure you

of its salubrity, and to request you to recommend its general use:--and

I have only now to request that you will not suffer the very imperfect

manner in which _I_, who cannot write for the public eye, have handled

the subject to deter you from doing it justice.

I am, Sir,

Yours respectfully,

I. J. T.

P. S. It has just occurred to me to say, why should not grocers,

confectioners, fruiterers, and chandlers, speculate in the “new

article,” and provide a store of it to meet a probable demand? I should

think it might be sold, with a reasonable profit, at sixpence or

eightpence a pound.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ~Drawing of the Lottery in Guildhall, 1751.~]

DEATH OF THE LOTTERY.

In the spring, and for three weeks after midsummer, 1826, the

lottery-office keepers incessantly plied every man, woman, and child in

the United Kingdom, and its dependencies, with petitions to make a

fortune in “the last lottery that can be drawn.” Men paraded the streets

with large printed placards on poles, or pasted on their backs,

announcing “All Lotteries End for Ever! 18th of July.” The walls were

stuck, and hand-bills were thrust into the hands of street passengers,

with the same heart-rending intelligence, and with the solemn assurance

that the demand for tickets and shares was immense! Their prices had so

risen, were so rising, and would be so far beyond all calculation, that

to get shares or tickets at all, they must be instantly purchased! As

the time approached, a show was got up to proclaim that the deplorable

“Death of the Lottery,” would certainly take place on the appointed day;

but on some account or other, the pathetic appeal of the benevolent

contractors was disregarded, and the gentlemen about to be “turned off,”

were as unheeded, and as unlamented as criminals, who say or sing in

their last moments--

“Gentlefolks all

Pity our fall!

Have pity all,

Pity our fall!”

At length the stoney-hearted public were “respectfully” informed that

“the lords of the treasury had issued a “_reprieve_,” and that the

“drawing” and “quartering” and so forth was, “postponed from Tuesday,

18th July,” to some dull day in October, “when Lotteries will finish for

ever?”

* * * * *

Of late years lotteries have been drawn at Coopers’-hall. Formerly they

were drawn at the place, and in the manner exhibited in the preceding

representation, after an engraving by Cole.

PHRENOLOGY.

PHRENOLOGICAL ILLUSTRATIONS. _By George Cruikshank._ London: Published

by George Cruikshank, Myddelton-terrace, Pentonville. 1826.

“In the name of wonder,” a reader may inquire, “is the _Every-Day Book_

to be a Review.” By no means;--but “George Cruikshank” is a “remarkable

person;” his first appearance in the character of an author is a

“remarkable event,” in the August of 1826; and, as such, deserves a

“remarkable notice.”

Every reader is of course aware, that, as certainly as a hazel-rod,

between the fingers of a gifted individual, discovers the precious

metals and waters beneath the earth, so certainly, a phrenological

adept, by a discriminating touch of the nodosities on the surface of the

head, detects the secret sources, or “springs of human action.” To what

extent Mr. Cruikshank has attained this quality, or whether he is under

obligations to Dr. Combe for “a touch” of his skill, or has bowed his

head to Mr. De Ville for “a cast” in plaster, is not so clear, as that

his “Phrenological Illustrations” will be as popular, and assuredly as

lasting as the science itself--“Cruikshank and Craniology--_for ever_!”

Be it observed, however, that “Craniology,” which alliterates so well

with “Cruikshank,” was only a “proper” term, while the disciples of

doctors Gall and Spurzheim were traversing the exterior of the cranium;

but after they had gained a knowledge of the interior, and classified

and arranged their discoveries, they generalized the whole, and

relinquished the term “craniology” for the denomination “phrenology.”

This change was obviously imperative, because “craniology” signifies no

more than an acquaintance with the outside of the head, and “phrenology”

implies familiarity with its contents.

Still, however, the incipient phrenologist must avail himself of

“craniology,” as an introduction to the nobler science. To him it is as

necessary a guide as topography is to a student in geology, who without

that requisite, and supposing him ignorant of the characters of

mountains may lose his way, and be found vainly boring Schehalion, or

sinking a shaft within the crater of an exhausted volcano. To prevent

such mistakes in “phrenology,” the “estate under the hat” has been

thoroughly explored, and divided and subdivided: names and numbers have

been assigned to each portion, and the entire globe of the microcosm

accurately measured, and mapped, “according to the latest surveys.”

Mr. Cruikshank’s “Illustrations of Phrenology” form a more popular

introduction to the science than its most ardent admirers could possibly

hope. He acknowledges his obligations to doctors Gall and Spurzheim, and

implicitly adopts their arrangement of the “organs;” a word, by the by,

that signifies those convexities which may be seen by the eye, or

touched by the finger, on the exterior of the greater convexity called

the head; and which are produced, or thrown up thereon, by the working

or heaving of the ideas internally. From this process it appears that a

man “bores” his own head, so as to form concavities within and

convexities without; and, in the same way, by the power of speech,

“bores” the heads of his friends. The term “to bore,” however, as

commonly used, signifies “to bother,” or “perplex and confound,” and

therefore is not admitted in the nomenclature of “phrenology,” which

condescends to level every “bump,” to the right understanding of the

meanest capacity.

Of Mr. Cruikshank’s proficiency or rank in the phrenological school, the

writer of this article is incompetent to judge; but, as regards his

present work, whether he be a master, or only a monitor, is of little

consequence; he seems well grounded in rudiments, and more he does not

profess to teach. Instead of delivering a mapped head in plaister of

Paris with his book, he exhibits an engraving of three “bare polls,” or

polls sufficiently bare to discover the position of every convexity or

“organ” whereon he duly marks their numbers, according to the notation

of doctors Gall and Spurzheim. From hence we learn that we have nine

propensities, nine sentiments, eleven knowing faculties, and four

reflecting faculties. Adhering to the doctrinal enumeration and

nomenclature of the “organs” worked out, or capable of being worked out,

by these propensities, sentiments, and faculties, on every human head,

he wisely prefers the Baconian as the best method of teaching “the new

science,” and exhibits the effects of each of the thirty-three “organs”

in six sheets of etchings by himself, from his own views of each

“organ.”

It is now proper to hint at the mode wherein the artist has executed his

design, and to take each organ according to its number, and under its

scientific term.

I.--AMATIVENESS.

Mr. Cruikshank seems to imagine that this organ may induce a declaration

of undivided attachment to an intermediate object, in order to arrive at

the object _sincerely_ desired: under the circumstances represented,

this deviation of “amativeness” may be denominated “cupboard love.”

II.--PHILOPROGENITIVENESS.

The tendency of this perplexing organ hastens the necessity of extending

our “colonial policy.” This sketch is full of life and spirit.

III.--INHABITIVENESS.

The subject of the artist’s point, a “tenant for life,” doubtless has an

amazing developement of the organ.

IV.--ADHESIVENESS.

Is “enough to frighten a horse.” This organ will be further observed on

presently.

V.--COMBATIVENESS.

Its vigorous cultivation is displayed with much animation.

VI.--DESTRUCTIVENESS.

A familiar illustration of this organ is derived from a common

occurrence in almost every market-town. Its contemplation, and a few

recent incidents, suggest a query or two. A bull ran into a china shop,

but instead of proceeding to the work of demolition, threw his eye

around the place, thrust his horn under the arm of a richly painted

vase, and ran briskly into the street with his prize. Was this act

ascribable to the organ of “colour,” or that of “covetiveness?” An _ox_

walked into a well-furnished parlour, and withdrew without doing further

mischief than ogling himself in the looking-glass. Were these “stolen”

looks occasioned by “covetiveness,” or “self-love?” Another of the _bos_

tribe rapidly passed men, women, and children, ran up the steps to an

open street door, hurried through the passage, ascended every flight of

the stair-case, nor stopped till he had gained the front attic, from

whence he put his head through the window, and looked down from his

proud eminence, over the parapet, upon his “followers.” On this third

example may be quoted what Mr. Cruikshank says of another organ,

“_Inhabitiveness_. To this organ is ascribed, in man, _Self Love_, and

in other animals, _Physical height_. The artist has endeavoured to give

_his_ idea of _inhabitiveness_ in plate 2.” On comparing the anecdote

last related, with the artist’s idea in the plate he refers to, it is

clear that, on this occasion, his view might have been more _elevated_.

In the last-mentioned bull, “Inhabitiveness” seems to have been the

prevailing organ. Separately considering the three animals, and their

general character, and the tempting objects by which each was

surrounded, without their manifestation of any action to denote the

existence of “destructiveness,” a question arises, whether counteracting

organs may not be cultivated in such animals, to the extent of

neutralizing the primary developement.

VII.--CONSTRUCTIVENESS.

This is so elegant an exhibition of the propensity in connection with

certain vegetable tendencies, that it is doubtful whether developements

from the action of the sap in plants, may not admit of classification

with our own.

VIII.--COVETIVENESS.

In this representation, the countenance of a boy is frightfully

impressed by the incessant restlessness of the “organ,” combined with

“cautiousness.” See No. XII.

IX.--SECRETIVENESS.

Exhibits one of the advantages of this “propensity” in the sex.

X.--SELF LOVE.

Narcissus himself could not be more strongly marked, than this

“heart-breaking” personage.

XI.--APPROBATION. See No. XXXIII.

XII.--CAUTIOUSNESS.

Prudence and indecision are here united by a decisive touch. The

accessory, who assists this “procedure of the human understanding,” is

exceedingly

--------------“light and airy;

Brisk as a bee, blithe as a fairy.”

XIII.--BENEVOLENCE.

A “benevolent” individual, receiving loud acknowledgments from the

object of his favours.

XIV.--VENERATION.

Mr. Cruikshank says, that “Dr. Gall observed this organ chiefly in

persons with bald heads.” The artist satisfactorily exemplifies, that

when its absence occurs in Englishmen, it is a rare exception to the

national character.

XV.--HOPE.

This sentiment is always allegorized with an anchor, and Mr. Cruikshank

represents a poor animal under its influence, “brought to an anchor.”

XVI.--IDEALITY.

Mr. Cruikshank says, that “Mr. Forster calls this the organ of

_mysterizingness_. It is supposed that a peculiar developement of this

organ, which is remarkably conspicuous in all poets, occurs in persons

who are disposed to have visions, see ghosts, demons, &c.” The artist

represents certain appearances, which will be recognised as “familiars.”

XVII.--CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

“According to Dr. Spurzheim, this is the organ of _righteousness_;” but,

“Dr. Gall thinks there is no organ of _conscience_.” Mr. Cruikshank

exemplifies the latter opinion, by the surprise of a female on receiving

“an unexpected offer.” It will not surprise the reader if he looks at

the print.

XVIII.--FIRMNESS.

“Firmness,” he regards in the light of “a character now being consigned

rapidly to oblivion.” But, “while there is life there is hope,” and the

character alluded to cannot be destroyed without the annihilation of

“adhesiveness,” which Mr. Cruikshank defines in the language of the

science, and “has endeavoured to give a strong but faithful illustration

of, in plate 2;” a representation, alas! too accurate. See No. IV.

XIX.--INDIVIDUALITY.

A more select specimen could not have been produced.

XX.--FORM.

This is well represented. “Persons,” says Mr. Cruikshank, “endowed with

this organ, are fond of seeing pictures, &c.” They may likewise be

frequently detected in jelly-rooms, and the upper boxes of the theatres.

XXI.--SIZE.

Remarkably developed in “a great man now no more!”

XXII.--WEIGHT.

A compliment from the artist, “to which he is confident no loyal man

will offer an objection.”

XXIII.--COLOUR.

As a specimen of art, this is the most successful of the illustrations.

XXIV.--SPACE.

An enlarged view of a deep seated organ, bottomed on the character of a

people whom we have outrivalled.

XXV.--ORDER.

This organ as a ruling power, is placed by Mr. Cruikshank in the hand;

its developement manifestly generates “Veneration.”

XXVI.--TIME.

In Mr. Cruikshank’s words, “the artist’s illustration of it will be

familiar to every one.”

XXVII.--NUMBER.

A portrait of an individual in whom the power of this organ is supposed

to have been preeminent.

XXVIII.--TUNE.

This organ, according to the artist, produces rectitude in the dog.

XXIX.--LANGUAGE.

XXX.--COMPARISON.

The organ of “Comparison” is exemplified by full developements from

“Long Acre,” and “Little St. Martin’s-lane,” within one door from the

residence of “Mr. Thomas Rodd, bookseller, Great Newport-street,” whose

stock of books, large as it is, cannot furnish any thing like the “words

that burn,” in the artist’s representation of “LANGUAGE.”[307]

XXXI.--CAUSALITY.

“This is nothing more than the organ of _Inquisitiveness_,” and the

artist himself exercises it, by gently feeling his reader’s pulse.

XXXII.--WIT.

There is great difficulty in defining this organ. Mr. Cruikshank’s

representation of it is humorous.

XXXIII.--IMITATION.

This is an admirable exhibition of the organ, as we may imagine it to be

cultivated by “Mr. Mathews-At home!” with decided “APPROBATION.” See No.

XI.

Having hastily gone over the organs of the science, we have an

additional one, “_The Organ of_ DRAWING.” Mr. Cruikshank says, he

“cannot satisfy himself as to the precise seat of this organ, or as to

the extent of its sphere of activity, but he has attempted an

illustration of it.” He thinks it not improbable “that the possession of

this special faculty, now only at his fingers’ ends, may enable him to

venture again” if his present efforts are successful. Why they should

not be it is difficult to conceive; for however whimsical and ludicrous

his “Phrenological Illustrations” may sometimes be, they are so

connected with the vocabulary of the science at the commencement of his

publication, as to form the horn-book, the primer, the reading made

easy, and the grammar of phrenology.

Such a production as this, at such a price, (eight shillings plain, and

twelve shillings coloured,) from such an artist, could not have been

expected. His inimitable powers have hitherto entertained and delighted

the public far more to the emolument of others than himself; and now

that he has ventured to “take a benefit” on his own account, there

cannot be a doubt that his admirers will encourage “their old favourite”

to successive endeavours for their amusement and instruction. His entire

talents have never been called forth; and some are of a far higher order

than even the warmest friends to his pencil can conceive.

Though the work is to be obtained of all the booksellers in London, and

every town in the united kingdom, yet it would be a well-timed

compliment to Mr. Cruikshank if town purchasers of his “Phrenological

Illustrations” were to direct their steps to his house, No. 25,

Myddelton Terrace, Pentonville.

SHOWERS OF BLOOD.

On the 25th of August, 1826, the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, while

writing in his room, took up the open envelope of a letter he had

received about ten minutes before, and to his surprise, observed on its

inner side, which had been uppermost on the table, several spots which

seemed to be blood. They were fresh and wet, and of a brilliant scarlet

colour. They could not be red ink, for there was none in the house; nor

could they have been formed on the paper by any person, for no one had

entered the room; nor had he moved from the chair wherein he sat. The

appearances seemed unaccountable, till considering that the window

sashes were thrown up, and recollecting an anecdote in the “Life of

Peiresc,” he was persuaded that they were easily to be accounted for;

and that they were a specimen of those “showers of blood,” which

terrified our forefathers in the dark ages, and are recorded by old

chroniclers.

It is related, for instance, that in the fifth century, “at Yorke, it

rained bloud;” and in 697, “corne, as it was gathered in the harvest

time, appeared bloudie,” and “in the furthermost partes of Scotland it

rayned bloud.”[308] In 1553, it was deemed among the forewarnings of the

deaths of Charles and Philip, dukes of Brunswick, that there were “drops

of bloude upon hearbes and trees.”[309]

* * * * *

As a solution of the origin, or cause of bloody spots on the paper, the

anecdote in Gassendi’s “Life of Peiresc” is added.

“Nothing in the whole year, 1608, did more please him,--than _that_ he

observed and philosophized about--the _bloody rain_, which was commonly

reported to have fallen about the beginning of July; great drops thereof

were plainly to be seen, both in the city itself, upon the walls of the

churchyard of the great church, which is near the city wall, and upon

the city walls themselves; also upon the walls of villages, hamlets, and

towns, for some miles round about; for in the first place, he went

himself to see those wherewith the stones were coloured, and did what he

could to come to speak with those husbandmen, who beyond Lambesk, were

reported to have been so affrighted at the falling of the said rain,

that they left their work, and ran as fast as their legs could carry

them into the adjacent houses. Whereupon, he found that it was a fable

which was reported, touching those husbandmen. Nor was he pleased that

the naturalists should refer this kind of rain to vapours drawn up out

of red earth aloft into the air, which congealing afterwards into

liquor, fall down in this form; because such vapours as are drawn aloft

by heat, ascend without colour, as we may know by the alone example of

red roses, out of which the vapours that arise by heat, are congealed

into transparent water. He was less pleased with the common people, and

some divines, who judged that it was a work of the devils and witches,

who had killed innocent young children; for this he counted a mere

conjecture, possibly also injurious to the goodness and providence of

God.

“In the mean while an accident happened, out of which he conceived he

had collected the true cause thereof. For some months before, he shut up

in a box a certain palmer-worm which he had found, rare for its bigness

and form; which, when he had forgotten, he heard a buzzing in the box,

and when he opened it, found the palmer-worm, having cast its coat, to

be turned into a very beautiful butterfly, which presently flew away,

leaving in the bottom of the box a red drop as broad as an ordinary sous

or shilling; and because this happened about the beginning of the same

month, and about the same time an incredible multitude of butterflies

were observed flying in the air, he was therefore of opinion, that such

kind of butterflies resting upon the walls, had there shed such like

drops, and of the same bigness. Wherefore, he went the second time, and

found by experience, that those drops were not to be found on the house

tops, nor upon the round sides of the stones which stuck out, as it

would have happened, if blood had fallen from the sky, but rather where

the stones were somewhat hollowed, and in holes, where such small

creatures might shroud and nestle themselves. Moreover, the walls which

were so spotted, were not in the middle of towns, but they were such as

bordered upon the fields, nor were they on the highest parts, but only

so moderately high as butterflies are commonly wont to flie.

“Thus, therefore, he interpreted that which Gregory of Tours relates,

touching a bloody rain seen at Paris in divers places, in the days of

Childebert, and on a certain house in the territory of Senlis; also that

which is storied, touching raining of blood about the end of June, in

the days of king Robert; so that the blood which fell upon flesh,

garments, or stones, could not be washed out, but that which fell on

wood might; for it was the same season of butterflies, and experience

hath taught us, that no water will wash these spots out of the stones,

while they are fresh and new. When he had said these and such like

things to Varius, a great company of auditors being present, it was

agreed that they should go together and search out the matter, and as

they went up and down, here and there, through the fields, they found

many drops upon stones and rocks; but they were only on the hollow and

under parts of the stones, but not upon those which lay most open to the

skies.”

Thus the first mentioned appearances on the paper, may be naturally

accounted for, and so

----------“ends the history

Of this wonderful mystery.”

* * * * *

On the evening of the same day, the 25th of August, 1826, the editor

witnessed the terrific tempest of thunder and lightning, mentioned in

the newspapers. He was walking in the London-road near the Surrey

obelisk, when the flashes sheeted out more rapidly in succession, and to

greater extent than have ever been witnessed in this country, within the

memory of man. They were accompanied by a gale of wind that took up

light objects, such as hay, leaves, and sticks, and immense clouds of

dust to a great height, and impelled people along against their will.

The sudden loud claps of thunder, and the red forking of the flashes

were tremendously grand and appalling. At one time there was a crashing

burst of thunder, and a rushing sound from the electric fluid, like the

discharge of a flight of rockets close at hand. This was in the midst of

a torrent of rain, which lasted only a few minutes, and was as heavy as

from the bursting of a number of water spouts. This storm was literally

a tornado.

* * * * *

Lightning was looked upon as sacred both by the Greeks and Romans, and

was supposed to be sent to execute vengeance on the earth. Hence persons

killed with lightning, being thought hateful to the gods were buried

apart by themselves, lest the ashes of other men should receive

pollution from them. All places struck with lightning were carefully

avoided and fenced round, from an opinion that Jupiter had either taken

offence at them, and fired upon them the marks of his displeasure, or

that he had by this means pitched upon them as sacred to himself. The

ground thus fenced about, was called by the Romans bidental. Lightning

was much observed in augury, and was a good or bad omen, according to

the circumstances attending it.[310]

When a stormy cloud, which is nothing but a heap of exhalations strongly

electrified, approaches near enough to a tower, or a house, or a cloud

not electrified; when it approaches so near, that a spark flies from it,

this occasions the explosion, which we call a clap of thunder. The light

we then see is the lightning, or the thunderbolt. Sometimes we see only

a sudden and momentary flash, at other times it is a train of fire,

taking different forms and directions. The explosion attending the

lightning, shows that it is the vapours which occasion the thunder; by

taking fire suddenly, they agitate and dilate the air violently. At

every electrical spark a clap is heard. The thunder is sometimes

composed of several claps or prolonged and multiplied by echoes.

As soon as we see a flash of lightning, we have only to reckon the

seconds in a watch, or how often our pulse beats, between the flash and

the clap. Whoever can reckon ten pulsations between the lightning and

the thunder, is still at the distance of a quarter of a league from the

storm; for it is calculated that the sound takes nearly the time of

forty pulsations, in going a league. The lightning does not always go in

a direct line from top to bottom. It often winds about and goes zigzag,

and sometimes it does not lighten till very near the ground. The

combustible matter which reaches the ground, or takes fire near it,

never fails to strike. But sometimes it is not strong enough to approach

us, and like an ill-charged cannon, it disperses in the atmosphere and

does no harm. When, on the contrary, the fiery exhalations reach the

ground, they sometimes make terrible havoc.

We may judge of the prodigious force of the lightning by the wonderful

effects it produces. The heat of the flame is such, that it burns and

consumes every thing that is combustible. It even melts metals, but it

often spares what is contained in them, when they are of a substance

not too close to leave the passage free. It is by the velocity of the

lightning that the bones of men and animals are sometimes calcined,

while the flesh remains unhurt. That the strongest buildings are thrown

down, trees split, or torn up by the root, the thickest of walls

pierced, stones and rocks broken, and reduced to ashes. It is to the

rarification and violent motion of the air, produced by the heat and

velocity of the lightning, that we must attribute the death of men and

animals found suffocated, without any appearance of having been struck

by lightning.

“Experience teaches us, that the rain which falls when it thunders, is

the most fruitful to the earth. The saline and sulphurous particles

which fill the atmosphere during a storm, are drawn down by the rain,

and become excellent nourishment for the plants; without mentioning the

number of small worms, seeds, and little insects which are also drawn

down in thunder showers, and are with the help of a microscope, visible

in the drops of water.”[311]

* * * * *

In August, 1769, a flash of lightning fell upon the theatre at Venice,

in which were more than six hundred persons. Besides killing several of

the audience, it put out the candles, singed a lady’s hair, and melted

the gold case of her watch and the fringe of her robe. The earrings of

several ladies were melted, and the stones split; and one of the

performers in the orchestra, had his violincello shattered in a thousand

splinters, but received no damage himself.[312]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·97.

[303] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[304] If the berries be gathered in wet weather, an hour will not be

too long a time to boil them.

[305] I have heard of the distress among the weavers, and heaven

forbid that I should speak lightly of their calamities!--But eat they

_must_, and _eat they do_: and if reduced to _bread, so called_,

butter, or cheese, is included; it is this I regret, for jam would be

cheaper as well as more wholesome, and should be purchased at the

shops as other articles of consumption are.

[306] As they are called, near the uncultivated moorland waste where

they grow. _Wortleberrey_ is the correct name.

[307] Mr. Rodd seldom adventures in paper and print, yet he has put

forth a “second edition, with considerable additions,” of a curious

and useful little volume bearing the modest title of “An Attempt at a

Glossary of some words used in Cheshire, communicated to the Society

of Antiquarians. By Roger Wilbraham, Esq. F. R. S. and S. A. London,

1826,” royal 18mo. pp. 120.

If a person desires to collect books, or to be acquainted with the

writers on any given subject, ancient or modern, rare or common, I

know of no one to whom he can apply more successfully, or on whom he

can rely for judgment and integrity more implicitly, than Mr. Thomas

Rodd. His mind is as well stored with information, as his shop is with

good authors, in every class of literature; and he is as ready to

communicate his knowledge gratuitously, as he is to part with his

books at reasonable prices “to those who choose to buy

them.”--_Editor._

[308] Hollinshed.

[309] Batman’s Doome.

[310] Ency. Brit.

[311] Sturm.

[312] Annual Register.

~August 26.~

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 26th of August, 1635, died Lope de Vega, called the “Spanish

Phenix,” aged sixty-three years. His funeral was conducted with princely

magnificence by his patron, the duke of Susa, and his memory was

celebrated with suitable pomp in all the theatres of Spain.

Lope de Vega was the rival and conqueror of Cervantes in the dramatic

art; yet in his youth he embarked in the celebrated Spanish armada, for

the invasion of England, and spent part of his life in civil and

military occupations.

His invention is as unparalleled in the history of poetry, as the talent

which enabled him to compose regular and well constructed verse with as

much ease as prose. Cervantes, on this account, styled him a prodigy of

nature. His verses flowed freely, and such was his confidence in his

countrymen, that as they applauded his writings, which were unrestrained

by critical notes, he refused conformity to any restrictions. “The

public,” he said, “paid for the drama, and the taste of those who paid

should be suited.”

He required only four-and-twenty hours to write a versified drama of

three acts, abounding in intrigues, prodigies, or interesting

situations, and interspersed with sonnets and other versified

accompaniments. In general the theatrical manager carried away what De

Vega wrote before he had time to revise it, and a fresh applicant often

arrived to prevail on him to commence a new piece immediately. In some

instances he composed a play in the short space of three or four hours.

This astonishing facility enabled him to supply the Spanish theatre with

upwards of two thousand original dramas. According to his own testimony

he wrote on an average five sheets every day, and at this rate he must

have produced upwards of twenty millions of verses.

He was enriched by his talents, and their fame procured him

distinguished honours. He is supposed at one time to have possessed

upwards of a hundred thousand ducats, but he was a bad economist, for

the poor of Madrid shared his purse. He was elected president of the

spiritual college in that capital; and pope Urban VIII. sent him the

degree of doctor in divinity with a flattering letter, and bestowed on

him the cross of Malta; he was also appointed fiscal of the apostolic

chamber, and a familiar of the inquisition, an office regarded

singularly honourable at that period. Whenever he appeared in the

streets, boys ran shouting after him; he was surrounded by crowds of

people, all eager to gain a sight of the “prodigy of nature;” and those

who could not keep pace with the rest, stood and gazed on him with

wonder as he passed.

Lope de Vega’s inexhaustible fancy and fascinating ease of composition,

communicated that character to Spanish comedy; and all subsequent

Spanish writers trod in his footsteps, until its genius was banished by

the introduction of the French taste into Spain.[313]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 60·77.

[313] Bouterwek.

~August 27.~

1688. A DATE IN PANYER-ALLEY.

The editor has received a present from Mr. John Smith of a wood block,

engraved by himself, as a specimen of his talents in that department of

art, and in acknowledgment of a friendly civility he is pleased to

recollect at so long a distance from the time when it was offered, that

it only dwelt in his own memory.

The impression from this engraving, and the accompanying information,

will acquaint the reader with an old London “effigy” which many may

remember to have seen. It is the only cut in the present sheet; for an

article on a popular amusement, which will require a considerable number

of engravings, is in preparation, and the artists are busily engaged on

them.

Concerning this stone we must resort to old Stow. According to this

“honest chronicler,” he peregrinated to where this stone now stands, and

where in his time stood “the church of St. Michael ad Bladudum, or at

the _corne_ (‘corruptly,’ he says, ‘at the _querne_,’) so called,

because in place thereof, was sometime a corne-market. At the west end

of this parish church is a small passage for people on foot thorow the

same church;” and he proceeds to throw the only light that seems to

appear on this stone, “and west from the said church, some distance, is

another passage out of Paternoster-row, and is called (of such _a

signe_) Panyer-alley, which commeth out into the north, over against

Saint Martin’s-lane.”

It is plain from Stow’s account, that Panyer-alley derived its name from

“a signe,” but what that “signe” was we are ignorant of. It may have

been a tavern-sign, and this stone _may_ have been the ancient sign in

the wall of the tavern. It represents a boy seated on a panyer, pressing

a bunch of grapes between his hand and his foot. By some people it is

called “the Pick-my-toe.” The inscription mentions the date when it was

either repaired or put up in its present situation in a wall on the

east side of the alley, and affirms that the spot is the highest ground

of the city.

[Illustration: ~The Effigy in Panyer-alley, Paternoster-row.~]

While we are at this place, it is amusing to remark what Stow observes

of Ivy-lane, which runs parallel with Panyer-alley westward. He says,

that “Ivie-lane” was “so called of _ivie_ growing on the walls of the

prebend’s houses,” which were situated in that lane; “but now,” speaking

of his own days, “the lane is replenished on both sides with faire

houses, and divers offices have been there kept, by registers, namely,

for the prerogative court of the archbishop of Canturbury, the probate

of wils, which is now removed into Warwicke-lane, and also for the lord

treasurer’s remembrance of the exchequer, &c.”

Hence we see that in Ivy-lane, now a place of mean dwelling, was one of

the great offices at present in Doctors’ Commons, and another of equal

importance belonging to the crown; but the derivation of its name from

the ivy on the walls of the prebends’ houses, an adjunctive ornament

that can scarcely be imagined by the residents of the closely confined

neighbourhood, is the pleasantest part of the narration.

* * * * *

And Stow also tells us of “Mount-goddard-street,” which “goeth up to the

north end of Ivie-lane,” of its having been so called “of the tippling

there, and the _goddards_ mounting from the tappe to the table, from the

table to the mouth, and some times over the head.”

_Goddards._

These were cups or goblets made with a cover or otherwise. In “Tancred

and Gismunda,” an old play, we are told, “Lucrece entered, attended by a

maiden of honour with a covered _goddard_ of gold, and, drawing the

curtains, she offered unto Gismunda to taste thereof.” So also Gayton,

in his “Festivous Notes on Don Quixote,” mentions--

“A _goddard_, or an anniversary spice bowl,

Drank off by th’ gossips.”

_Goddard_, according to Camden, means “godly the cup,” and appears to

Mr. Archdeacon Nares, who cites these authorities to have been a

christening cup. That gentleman can find no certain account of the

origin of the name.

Perhaps _goddard_ was derived from “godward:” we had looking godward,

and thinking godward, and perhaps drinking godward, for a benediction

might have been usual at a christening or solemn merry-making; and from

thence godward drinking might have come to the godward cup, and so the

_goddard_.

THE CUCKOO.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--If the following “Address to the Cuckoo,” from my work on birds,

should suit the pages of the _Every-Day Book_, it is quite at your

service.

Of the cuckoo, I would just observe, that I do not think,

notwithstanding all that Dr. Jenner has written concerning it, its

natural history is by any means fully developed. I have had some

opportunities of observing the habits of this very singular bird, and in

me there is room for believing that, even when at maturity, it is

sometimes, if not frequently, _fed by other birds_. It is very often

attended by one, two, or even more, small birds, during its flight, for

what purpose is not, I believe, at present known. The “wry-neck,” _junx

torquilla_, called in some provinces the “cuckoo’s maiden,” is said to

be one of these. Perhaps it may be novel information to your readers to

be told, that there is a bird in the United States of America, called

“Cowpen,” _emberiza pecoris_, by Wilson, which lays her eggs in other

bird’s nests, in a similar way to the cuckoo in this country: the

“cowpen” is, however, a much smaller bird than the cuckoo.

I am, &c.

JAMES JENNINGS.

_Dalby-terrace, City-road,_

_August 28, 1826._

TO THE CUCKOO.

Thou monotonous bird! whom we ne’er wish away,

Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May

Thy advent reminds us of all that is sweet,

Which nature, benignant, now lays at our feet;

Sweet flowers--sweet meadows--sweet birds and their loves;

Sweet sunshiny mornings, and sweet shady groves;

Sweet smiles of the maiden--sweet looks of the youth,

And sweet asseverations, too, prompted by truth;

Sweet promise of plenty throughout the rich vale;

And sweet the bees’ humming in meadow and vale;

Of the summer’s approach--of the presence of spring,

For ever, sweet cuckoo! continue to sing.

Oh, who then, dear bird! could e’er wish thee away,

Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May

As every trait in the natural history of birds is interesting, I beg

leave to state that I shall be greatly obliged to any reader of the

_Every-Day Book_ for the communication of any _novel_ fact or

information concerning this portion of the animal kingdom, of which

suitable acknowledgment will be made in my work. I understand the late

lord Erskine wrote and printed for private circulation, a poem on the

rook. Can any of your readers oblige me with a copy of it, or refer me

to any person or book so that I might obtain a sight of it?

J. J.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·35.

~August 28.~

ST. AUGUSTINE.

Of this father of the church, whose name is in the church of England

calendar, there is a memoir in vol. i. col. 1144.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 28th of August, 1736, a man passing the bridge over the Savock,

near Preston, Lancashire, saw two large flights of birds meet with such

rapidity, that one hundred and eighty of them fell to the ground. They

were taken up by him, and sold in Preston market the same day.

HOAX AT NORWICH.

The following bill was in circulation in Norwich and the neighbourhood

for days previous, and on the evening of August 28, 1826, 20,000

sagacious people from the city and country around, on foot, on

horseback, in chaises, gigs, and other vehicles, collected below the

hill to witness the extraordinary performance.

“_St. James’s-hill, back of the Horse-barracks._

“The public are respectfully informed that signor Carlo Gram Villecrop,

the celebrated Swiss mountain-flyer, from Geneva and Mont Blanc, is just

arrived in this city, and will exhibit, with a Tyrolese pole fifty feet

long, his most astonishing gymnastic flights, never before witnessed in

this country. Signor Villecrop has had the great honour of exhibiting

his most extraordinary feats on the continent before the king of

Prussia, Emperor of Austria, the Grand duke of Tuscany, and all the

resident nobility in Switzerland. He begs to inform the ladies and

gentlemen of this city, that he has selected St. James’s-hill and the

adjoining hills for his performances, and will first display his

remarkable strength, in running up the hill with his Tyrolese pole

between his teeth. He will next lay on his back, and balance the same

pole on his nose, chin, and different parts of his body. He will climb

up on it with the astonishing swiftness of a cat, and stand on his head

at the top; on a sudden he will leap three feet from the pole without

falling, suspending himself by a shenese cord only. He will also walk on

his head, up and down the hill, balancing his pole on one foot. Many

other feats will be exhibited, in which signor Villecrop will display to

the audience the much admired art of toppling, peculiar only to the

peasantry of Switzerland. He will conclude his performance by repeated

flights in the air, up and down the hill, with a velocity almost

imperceptible, assisted only by his pole, with which he will frequently

jump the astonishing distance of forty and fifty yards at a time. Signor

Villecrop begs to assure the ladies and gentlemen who honour him with

their company, that no money will be collected till after the

exhibition, feeling convinced that his exertions will be liberally

rewarded by their generosity. The exhibition to commence on Monday, the

28th of August, 1826, precisely at half-past 5 o’clock in the evening.”

Signor Carlo Gram Villecrop did not make his appearance. The people were

drawn together, and the whole ended, as the inventor designed, in a

“hoax.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·55.

~August 29.~

_St. John Baptist beheaded._

The anniversary of the baptist’s decollation is in the church of England

calendar. His death is known to have been occasioned by his remonstrance

to Herod against his notorious cruelties. “In consequence of this,” says

Mr. Audley, “Herod imprisoned him in the castle of Machærus, and would

have put him to death, but was afraid of the people.” Herodias also

would have killed John, had it been in her power. At length, on Herod’s

birthday, Salome, the daughter of Herodias, by her former husband,

Philip, danced before him, his captains, and chief estates, or the

principal persons of Galilee. This so pleased Herod, that he “promised

her, with an oath, whatsoever she should ask, even to the half of his

kingdom.” Hearing this, she ran to her mother and said, “what shall I

ask?” The mother, without hesitation, replied, “the head of John the

Baptist.” Herod was exceedingly sorry when he heard such a request; but

out of regard to his oaths and his guests, he immediately sent an

executioner to behead John in prison. This was instantly done, and the

head being brought in a charger, was given to Salome; and she,

forgetting the tenderness of her sex, and the dignity of her station,

carried it to her mother.

Jerome says, that “Herodias treated the baptist’s head in a very

disdainful manner, pulling out the tongue which she imagined had injured

her, and piercing it with a needle.” Providence, however, as Dr. Whitby

observes, interested itself very remarkably in the revenge of this

murder on all concerned. Herod’s army was defeated in a war occasioned

by his marrying Herodias, which many Jews thought a judgment on him for

the death of John. Both he, and Herodias, whose ambition occasioned his

ruin, were afterwards driven from their kingdom, and died in banishment,

at Lyons, in Gaul. And if any credit may be given to Nicephorus, Salome,

the young lady who made the cruel request, fell into the ice as she was

walking over it, which, closing suddenly, cut off her head.

It is added by Mr. Audley, that the abbot Villeloin says in his memoirs,

“the head of St. John the Baptist was saluted by him at Amiens, and it

was the _fifth_ or _sixth_ he had had the honour to kiss.”

ARCHBISHOP CHICHELEY.

Lord Orford, in a letter dated the 29th of August, says, “I have just

been reading a new public history of the colleges of Oxford, by Anthony

Wood, and there found a feature in a character that always offended me,

that of archbishop Chicheley, who prompted Henry V. to the invasion of

France, to divert him from squeezing the overgrown clergy. When that

priest meditated founding All Souls college, and ‘consulted his friends,

who seem to have been honest men, what great matters of piety he had

best perform to God in his old age, he was advised by them to build an

hospital for the wounded and sick soldiers, that daily returned from the

wars then had in France.’ I doubt his grace’s friends thought as I do of

his artifice.--‘But,’ continues the historian, ‘disliking these motions,

and valuing the welfare of the deceased more than the wounded and

diseased, he resolved with himself to promote his design--which was to

have masses said for the king, queen, and himself, &c., while living,

and for their souls when dead;’ and that mummery, the old foolish rogue,

thought more efficacious than ointments and medicines for the wretches

he had made! and of the chaplains and clerks he instituted in that

dormitory, one was to teach grammar, and another prick song. How history

makes one shudder and laugh by turns!”

AN ECCENTRIC CHARACTER.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--I trouble you with an account of an eccentric character, which

may, perhaps, amuse some of your numerous readers, if it should meet

your approbation.

Yours, most respectfully,

C. C----y, M. R. C. S. E.

Ashton Under Lyne,

_July 17th, 1826_.

BILLY BUTTERWORTH.

Near the summit of a small hill, called Gladwick Lowes, situated on the

borders of Lancashire, near the populous town of Oldham, commanding a

very extensive prospect, stands the solitary, yet celebrated hut of

“Billy Butterworth.” The eccentric being who bears this name from his

manner of dressing an immense beard reaching to his girdle, and many

other singularities, has obtained the name of the “hermit,” though from

the great numbers that daily and hourly visit him from all parts, he has

no real claim to the title.

Billy Butterworth’s hut is a rude building of his own construction, a

piece of ground having been given him for the purpose. In the building

of this hut, the rude hand of uncultivated nature laughed to scorn the

improvements of modern times, for neither saw, nor plane, nor level, nor

trowel, assisted to make it appear gracious in the eye of taste; a rude

heap of stones, sods of earth, moss, &c. without nails or mortar are

piled together in an inelegant, but perfectly convenient manner, and

form a number of apartments. The whole building is so firmly put

together, that its tenant fears not the pelting of a merciless storm,

but snug under his lowly roof appears equally content with the smiles or

frowns of fortune.

To give a proper description of the hermit’s hut, would be very

difficult, but a brief sketch will enable the reader to form a pretty

good idea of the object. It is surrounded by a fancy and kitchen garden,

fancifully decorated with rude seats, arches, grottos, &c., a few

plaister of Paris casts are here and there placed so as to have a

pleasing effect. The outer part of the hut consists of the hermit’s

chapel, in which is a half-length figure of the hermit himself. To this

chapel the hermit retires at certain hours, in devotion to his Maker;

besides the chapel is an observatory, where the hermit amuses his

numerous visiters, by exhibiting a small and rather imperfect camera

obscura of his own construction, by which he is enabled to explain the

surrounding country for four or five miles. Near the camera obscura is a

raised platform, almost on a level with the roof of the hermitage--this

he calls “the terrace.” From the terrace there is a beautiful view of

country.--The towns of Ashton-under-Lyne, Stockport, Manchester, lie in

the distance, with the adjacent villages, and the line of Yorkshire

hills, from among which “_Wild Bank_” rises majestically above its

neighbours. The hermit makes use of this situation, to give signals to

the village at the foot of the hill, when he wishes to be supplied with

any article of provision for the entertainment of his visiters, such as

liquors, cream, sallads, bread, &c.; of confectionary, he has generally

a good stock.

We next come to his summer arbours, which are numerous in his garden,

and furnished with table and seats for parties to enjoy themselves

separately, without interfering with others. The dovehouse is placed in

the garden, where he keeps a few beautiful pairs of doves. Of the

out-buildings, the last we shall describe, is the carriage-house. The

reader smiles at the word “carriage” in such a situation, and would be

more apt to believe me had I said a wheel-barrow. But no! grave reader,

“Billy Butterworth” runs his carriage, which is of the low gig kind,

drawn by an ass, and on some extra visits, by two asses. A little boy,

called Adam, is the postillion, as there is only seating for one in the

carriage. The boy acts as a waiter in busy times. In this carriage

“Billy Butterworth” visits his wealthy neighbours, and meets with a

gracious reception. He frequently visits the earl of Stamford, earl de

Wilton, &c. &c. From his grotesque dress and equipage, he excites mirth

to a great degree.

The inner part of this hermit’s hut consists of many different

apartments, all of which are named in great style; such as the servants’

hall--pavilion--drawing-room--dining-room--library, &c. &c. The walls

are lined with drapery, tastefully hung, and the furniture exhibits

numerous specimens of ancient carved woodwork. Pictures of all sorts

from the genuine oil painting, &c. prints of good line engraving down to

the common caricature daubs, are numerously hung in every part of the

hut. Natural curiosities are so placed, as to excite the curiosity of

the gazing ignoramus.

“Billy Butterworth” is himself a tall man, of rather a commanding

figure, with dark hair and dark sparkling eyes. His countenance is of a

pleasing but rather melancholy appearance, which is increased by an

immensely long black beard which makes him an object of terror to the

neighbouring children. On the whole, although he is now in the evening

of life, the remains of a once handsome man are very evident. His dress

is varied according to the seasons, but always resembling the costume in

king Charles’s days; a black cap, black ostrich feather and buckle, long

waistcoat, jacket with silk let into the sleeves, small clothes of the

same, and over the whole a short mantle.

“Billy Butterworth” has practised these whims, if I may call them so,

for twelve or fourteen years in this solitary abode. His reason for this

manner of life is not exactly known, but he seems to acknowledge in some

degree, that a disappointment in love has been the cause. Let that rest

as it will, he has a handsome property, accumulated, it is said, by

these eccentric means. Indeed he acknowledged to the author of this,

that on fine days in summer, he has realized from selling sweetmeats,

and receiving gifts from visiters, five guineas a day. He is so

independent now that he will not receive a present from friends. He is

communicative as long as a stranger will listen, but if the stranger is

inquisitive he ceases to converse any thing more. He is polite and well

informed on general topics, and has evidently read much.

* * * * *

While the hermit was lately on a journey to his friends, a mischievous

wag advertised “the hut,” &c. to be let. The day fixed upon being rainy,

no bidders made their appearance. I send you a copy of the advertisement

from a printed one in my possession.

* * * * *

TO BE LET,

For a term of years, or from year to year; and may be entered upon

immediately, all that hut, garden, and premises, with the appurtenances,

situate at Gladwick Lowes, near Oldham, in the county of Lancaster, now

occupied as an

HERMITAGE,

_By Mr. Wm. Butterworth_.

This romantic spot being the only place of fashionable resort in the

vicinity of the populous town of Oldham, and the unrivalled reputation

which it has so long deservedly enjoyed, render it peculiar desirable to

any gentleman who may wish to acquire an independency at a trifling

risk. The motive for the intended removal of the present proprietor is,

his having already secured a comfortable competency, joined to a desire

of giving some gentleman of a disposition similar to his own, an

opportunity of participating in the advantages which he has so long

derived from this delightful retirement.

Among the many curiosities with which his sequestered hut abounds, may

be particularized the following valuable articles.

His celebrated self-constructed Bed.

_A Table_,

which is supposed formerly to have belonged to some of the ancient

saxon monarchs, and was presented to Mr. B., by her grace the duchess

of Beaufort.

Praxitele’s stature of Jupiter Ammon, brought from Greece, by the

right honourable the earl of Elgin, and came into the hands of the

present possessor, through the medium of the duke of Devonshire, after

it had, for a considerable period, formed one of the most permanent

ornaments of his grace’s splendid mansion, Chatsworth house.

A capital portrait of Mrs. Siddons, painted by B. West, Esq., P. R. A.

A most excellent and peculiarly constructed Camera Obscura, which

distinctly represents objects at the distance of thirty miles.

A sonorous Speaking Trumpet, wonderfully adapted to the present

situation.

A brace of pistols, formerly the property of Blind Jack of

Knaresborough, by whom they were cut out of solid rock.

A very ancient and most curious Trebduchet, a relic of Ptolemy the

Third’s Sarcophagus.

A variety of coins, medals, shells, fossils, and other mineral

productions, tastefully classified and arranged.

It would be very desirable if the above could be disposed of with the

hermitage, but if not, Mr. B. would be willing to enter into a separate

agreement for them. For further particulars, apply to Mr. W. B.

N.B. The stock of pop, peppermint, gingerbread, and Eccles cakes, with

the signboards, dials, inscriptions, rams’ horns, and other tasteful and

appropriate decorations, will be required to be taken at a valuation.

To be let Monday August 29, 1825.

A HOAX “IN CHANCERY.”

There is a spirit of waggery which contributes to public amusement, and

occasionally annoys individual repose. The following lines are in a

journal of this day 1826.

A VISION.

BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL.

“Up!” said the spirit, and ere I could pray

One hasty orison, whirl’d me away

To a limbo, lying--I wist not where--

Above or below, in earth or air;

All glimmering o’er with a _doubtful_ light,

One couldn’t say whether ’twas day or night;

And crost by many a mazy track,

One didn’t know how to get on or back;

And I felt like a needle that’s going astray

(With its _one_ eye out) through a bundle of hay:

When the spirit he grinn’d, and whisper’d me,

“Thou’rt now in the Court of Chancery!”

Around me flitted unnumber’d swarms

Of shapeless, bodiless, tailless forms;

(Like bottled-up babes, that grace the room

Of that worthy knight, sir Everard Home)--

All of them, things half-kill’d in rearing;

Some were lame--some wanted _hearing_;

Some had through half a century run,

Though they hadn’t a leg to stand upon.

Others, more merry, as just beginning,

Around on a _point of law_ were spinning;

Or balanced aloft, ’twixt _Bill_ and _Answer_,

Lead at each end, like a tight rope dancer.--

Some were so _cross_, that nothing could please ’em;--

Some gulp’d down _affidavits_ to ease ’em;

All were in motion, yet never a one,

Let it _move_ as it might, could ever move _on_.

“These,” said the spirit, “you plainly see,

Are what they call suits in Chancery!”

I heard a loud screaming of old and young,

Like a chorus by fifty Vellutis’ sung;

Or an Irish dump (“the words by Moore”)

At an amateur concert scream’d in score;--

So harsh on my ear that wailing fell

Of the wretches who in this limbo dwell!

It seem’d like the dismal symphony

Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see;

Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous cook

Cut off and left the frogs in the brook,

To cry all night, till life’s last dregs,

“Give us our legs!--give us our legs!”

Touched with the sad and sorrowful scene,

I ask’d what all this yell might mean,

When the spirit replied with a grin of glee,

“’Tis the cry of the suitors in Chancery!”

I look’d, and I saw a wizard rise,

With a wig like a cloud before men’s eyes.

In his aged hand he held a wand,

Wherewith he beckoned his embryo hand,

And then mov’d and mov’d, as he wav’d it o’er,

But they never got on one inch more,

And still they kept limping to and fro,

Like Ariels’ round old Prospero--

Saying, “dear master, let us go,”

But still old Prospero answer’d “No.”

And I heard, the while, that wizard elf,

Muttering, muttering spells to himself,

While over as many old papers he turn’d,

As Hume e’er moved for or Omar burn’d.

He talk’d of his virtue--though some, less nice,

(He own’d with a sigh) preferr’d his _Vice_--

And he said, “I think”--“I doubt”--“I hope”--

Call’d God to witness, and damn’d the Pope;

With many more sleights of tongue and hand

I couldn’t, for the soul of me, understand.

Amaz’d and poz’d, I was just about

To ask his name, when the screams without

The merciless clack of the imps within,

And that conjurer’s mutterings, made such a din,

That, startled, I woke--leap’d up in my bed--

Found the spirit, the imps, and the conjurer fled.

And bless’d my stars, right pleas’d to see,

That I wasn’t, as yet, in Chancery.

For several years before the appearance of his solemn “Aids to

Reflection” in 1825, Mr. Coleridge had been to the world “as though he

was not;” and since that “Hand-book” of masterly sayings his voice has

ceased from the public. Forgotten he could not be, yet when he was

remembered it was by inquiries concerning his present “doings,” and

whispers of his “whereabout.” On a sudden the preceding verses startle

the dull town, and dwelling on the lazy ear, as being, according to

their printed ascription, “by the author of Christabel.” In vindication

of himself against the misconception of the wit of their real author,

the imputed parent steps forth in the following note.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

_Grove, Highgate, Tuesday Evening._

Sir,--I have just received a note from a city friend, respecting a poem

in “The Times” of this morning ascribed to me. On consulting the paper,

I see he must refer to “A Vision,” by the author of “Christabel.” Now,

though I should myself have interpreted these words as the author, I

doubt not, intended them, viz., as a part of the fiction; yet with the

proof before me that others will understand them literally, I should

feel obliged by your stating, that till this last half hour the poem and

its publication were alike unknown to me; and I remain, Sir,

respectfully yours,

S. T. COLERIDGE.

This little “affair” exemplifies that it is the fortune of talent to be

seldom comprehended.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·45.

~August 30.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 30, 1750. Miss Flora Macdonald was married to a gentleman of the

same name related to sir Alexander Macdonald, bart. This lady is

celebrated in Scottish annals for having heroically and successfully

assisted the young Pretender to escape, when a price was set upon his

head. Her self-devotion is minutely recorded in the late Mr. Boswell’s

“Ascanius,” and Johnson has increased her fame by his notice of her

person and character, in his “Tour to the Hebrides.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·95.

~August 31.~

GRASSHOPPERS.

It was observed at the end of August, 1742, great damage was done to the

pastures in the country, particularly about Bristol by swarms of

grasshoppers; and the like happened in the same year at Pennsylvania to

a surprising degree.[314]

* * * * *

In 1476, “Grasshoppers and the great rising of the river Isula did

spoyle al Poland.”[315]

* * * * *

Grasshoppers are infested by a species of “insect parasites” thicker

than a horse hair, and of a brown colour. It consumes the intestines,

and at first sight in the body of the grasshopper, has been mistaken for

the intestines themselves.

The eminent entomologist who mentions this fact, observes that “insects

generally answer the most beneficial ends, and promote in various ways,

and in an extraordinary degree, the welfare of man and animals.” The

evils resulting from them occur partially when they abound beyond their

natural limits, “God permitting this occasionally to take place, not

merely with punitive views, but also to show us what mighty effects he

can produce by instruments seemingly the most insignificant: thus

calling upon us to glorify his power, wisdom, and goodness, so evidently

manifested, whether he relaxes or draws tight the reins by which he

guides insects in their course, and regulates their progress; and more

particularly to acknowledge his overruling Providence so conspicuously

exhibited by his measuring them, as it were, and weighing them, and

taking them out, so that their numbers, forces, and powers, being

annually proportioned to the work he has prescribed to them, they may

neither exceed his purpose, nor fall short of it.”[316]

* * * * *

THE VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES.

_A Scene near the Hotwells, Bristol._[317]

“Then said I, master, pleasant is this place

And sweet are those melodious notes I hear;

And happy they, among man’s toiling race,

Who, of their cares forgetful, wander near.”

_Bowles._

To those who might not happen to know St. Vincent’s rocks, Clifton, and

the very beautiful scenery near the Hotwells, Bristol, it might be

desirable to state that the river Avon winds here through a sinuous

defile, on one side of which “the rocks” rise perpendicularly in a bold

yet irregular manner, to the height of many hundred feet; the opposite

side is not so bold, but it is, nevertheless, extremely beautiful, being

clothed in many places with wood, and has besides a VALLEY, through

which you may ascend to Leigh Down. This valley has been named the

“_Valley of Nightingales_,” no doubt, in consequence of those birds

making it their resort.

“Where foliaged full in vernal pride

Retiring winds thy favourite vale;

And faint the moan of Avon’s tide,

Remurmurs to the nightingale.”

_C. A. Elton’s Poems, Disappointment._

In a note, Mr. ELTON informs us that this stanza alludes to the “Valley

of Nightingales opposite St. Vincent’s rocks at Clifton.” The lovers of

the picturesque will here find ample gratification. If, in the following

poem, the truth in natural history be a little exceeded in reference to

a _troop_ of nightingales, it is hoped that the poetical licence will be

pardoned. The vicinity of the Hotwells has been lately much improved by

a carriage drive beneath and around those rocks.

Seest thou yon tall ROCKS where, midst sunny light beaming,

They lift up their heads and look proudly around;

While numerous _choughs_, with their cries shrill and screaming,

Wheel from crag unto crag, and now o’er the profound?

Seest thou yonder VALLEY where gushes the fountain;

Where the _nightingales_ nestling harmoniously sing;

Where the _mavis_ and _merle_ and the merry _lark_ mounting,

In notes of wild music, now welcome the spring.

Seest thou yonder shade, where the _woodbine_ ascending,

Encircles the _hawthorn_ with amorous twine,

With the _bryony_ scandent, in gracefulness blending;

What sweet mingled odours scarce less then divine!

Hearest thou the blue _ring-dove_ in yonder tree cooing;

The _red-breast_, the _hedge-sparrow_, warble their song;

The _cuckoo_, with sameness of note ever wooing;

Yet ever to pleasure such notes will belong!

And this is the VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES;--listen

To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,

Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,

There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.

Seest thou yon proud ship on the stream adown sailing,

O’er ocean, her course, to strange climes she now bends;

Oh! who may describe the deep sobs or heart-wailing

Her departure hath wrought amongst lovers and friends?

The rocks now re-echo the songs of the sailor

As he cheerfully bounds on his watery way;

But the maiden!--ah! what shall that echo avail her,

When absence and sorrow have worn out the day?

Behold her all breathless, still gazing, pursuing,

And waving, at times, with her white hand adieu;

On the rock now she sits, with fixed eye, the ship viewing;

No picture of fancy--but often too true.

Dost thou see yon flush’d HECTIC, of health poor remainder,

With a dark hollow eye, and a thin sunken cheek;

While AFFECTION hangs o’er him with thoughts that have pained her,

And that comfort and hope, still forbid her to speak?[318]

Yes, FRIENDSHIPS! AFFECTIONS! ye ties the most tender!

Fate, merciless fate, your connection will sever;

To that tyrant remorseless--all, all must surrender!

I once had a SON--HERE we parted for ever![319]

Now the sun, o’er the earth, rides in glory uncloud

The rocks and the valleys delightedly sing;

The BIRDS in wild concert, in yonder wood shrouded,

Awake a loud CHORUS to welcome the spring.

And this is the valley of nightingales;--listen

To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,

Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,

There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·72.

[Illustration: ~Harvest-Home at Hawkesbury on Cotswold.~]

The last in-gathering of the crop

Is loaded, and they climb the top,

And there huzza with all their force,

While Ceres mounts the foremost horse:

“Gee-up!” the rustic goddess cries,

And shouts more long and loud arise;

The swagging cart, with motion slow,

Reels careless on, and off they go!

* * * * *

HARVEST-HOME is the great August festival of the country.

An account of this universal merry-making may commence with a

communication from a lady, which the engraving is designed to

illustrate.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_Westbury, Wiltshire, August 8, 1826._

Sir,--The journal from whence I extract the following scene was written

nearly two years ago, during a delightful excursion I made in company

with one “near and dear,” and consequently before your praiseworthy

endeavours to perpetuate old customs had been made public. Had my

journey taken place during the present harvest month, the trifle I now

send should have been better worth your perusal, for I would have

investigated for _your_ satisfaction a local custom, that _to me_ was

sufficiently delightful in a passing glance.

I am, Sir, &c.

I. J. T.

HAWKESBURY HARVEST HOME.

_September, 1824._--After dinner, at Wotton-under-edge, we toiled up the

side and then struck off again towards the middle of the hills, leaving

all beauty in the rear; and from thence, until our arrival at Bath the

next day, nothing is worth recording, but one little pleasing incident,

which was the celebration of a harvest-home, at the village of

Hawkesbury, on the top of Cotswold.

As we approached the isolated hamlet, we were “aware” of a

_Maypole_--that unsophisticated trophy of innocence, gaiety, and plenty;

and as we drew near, saw that it was decorated with flowers and ribands

fluttering in the evening breeze. Under it stood a waggon with its full

complement of men, women, children, flowers, and corn; and a handsome

team of horses tranquilly enjoying their share of the finery and revelry

of the scene; for scarlet bows and sunflowers had been lavished on their

winkers with no niggard hand. On the first horse sat a damsel, no doubt

intending to represent Ceres; she had on, of course, a white dress and

straw bonnet--for could Ceres or any other goddess appear in a rural

English festival in any other costume? A broad yellow sash encompassed a

waist that evinced a glorious and enormous contempt for classical

proportion and modern folly in its elaborate dimensions.

During the rapid and cordial glance that I gave this questionable scion

of so graceful a stock, I ascertained two or three circumstances--that

she was good-natured, that she enjoyed the scene as a downright English

joke, and that she had the most beautiful set of teeth I ever beheld.

What a stigma on all tooth-doctors, tooth-powders, and tooth-brushes.

There was something very affecting in this simple festival, and I felt

my heart heave, and that the fields looked indistinct for some minutes

after we had lost sight of its primitive appearance; however it may now,

I thought, be considered by the performers as a “good joke,” it had its

origin, doubtless, in some of the very finest feelings that can adorn

humanity--hospitality, sociality, happiness, contentment, piety, and

gratitude.

Our fair correspondent adds:--

P.S.--Intelligence could surely be obtained from the spot, or the

neighbourhood, of the manner of celebrating the festival; it is probably

peculiar to the range of the Cotswold; and a more elaborate account of

so interesting a custom would, doubtless, be valuable to yourself, sir,

as well as to your numerous readers. I can only regret that my ability

does not equal my will, on this or any other subject, that would forward

your views in publishing your admirable _Every-Day Book_.

The editor inserts this hint to his readers in the neighbourhood of

Cotswold, with a hope that it will induce them to oblige him with

particulars of what is passing under their eyes at this season every

day. He repeats that accounts of these, or any other customs in any part

of the kingdom, will be especially acceptable.

* * * * *

Another correspondent has obligingly complied with an often expressed

desire on this subject.

HARVESTING ON SUNDAY.

_London, August 4, 1826._

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--As you request, on the wrapper of your last part, communications,

&c., respecting harvest, I send you the following case of a very

singular nature, that came before the synod of Glasgow and Ayr.

In the harvest of 1807, there was a great deal of wet weather. At the

end of one of the weeks it brightened up, and a drying wind prepared the

corn for being housed. The rev. Mr. Wright, minister of Mayhole, at the

conclusion of the forenoon service on the following sabbath-day, stated

to his congregation, that he conceived the favourable change of the

weather might be made use of to save the harvest on that day, without

violating the sabbath. Several of his parishioners availed themselves of

their pastor’s advice. At the next meeting of presbytery, however, one

of his reverend brethren thought proper to denounce him, as having

violated the fourth commandment; and a solemn inquiry was accordingly

voted by a majority of the presbytery. Against this resolution, a

complaint and appeal were made to the synod at the last meeting. Very

able pleadings were made on both sides, after which it was moved and

seconded,--“That the synod should find that the presbytery of Ayr have

acted in this manner, in a precipitate and informal manner, and that

their sentence ought to be reversed.” It was also moved and

seconded,--“That the synod find the presbytery of Ayr have acted

properly, and that it should be remitted to them to take such further

steps in this business as they may judge best.” After reasoning at

considerable length, the synod, without a vote, agreed to set aside the

whole proceedings of the presbytery in this business.[320]

This subject reminds me of the following verses to urge the use of “the

time present.”

DELAYS.

_By Robert Southwell, 1595._

Shun delays, they breed remorse;

Take thy time, while time is lent thee;

Creeping snails have weakest force;

Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee;

Good is best, when soonest wrought,

Ling’ring labours come to naught.

Hoist up sail while gale doth last,

Tide and wind stay no man’s pleasure;

Seek not time, when time is past,

Sober speed is wisdom’s leisure.

After wits are dearly bought,

Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought.

Time wears all his locks behind;

Take thou hold upon his forehead;

When he flies, he turns no more,

And behind his scalp is naked.

Works adjourn’d have many stays;

Long demurs breed new delays.

I am, Sir,

Your obliged and constant reader,

R. R.

* * * * *

We are informed on the authority of Macrobius, that among the heathens,

the masters of families, when they had got in their harvest, were wont

to feast with their servants, who had laboured for them in tilling the

ground. In exact conformity to this, it is common among Christians, when

the fruits of the earth are gathered in, and laid in their proper

repositories, to provide a plentiful supper for the harvest men and the

servants of the family. At this entertainment, all are in the modern

revolutionary idea of the word, perfectly equal. Here is no distinction

of persons, but master and servant sit at the same table, converse

freely together, and spend the remainder of the night in dancing,

singing, &c., in the most easy familiarity. Bourne thinks the origin of

both these customs is Jewish, and cites Hospinian, who tells us that the

heathens copied after this custom of the Jews, and at the end of their

harvest, offered up their first-fruits to the gods, for the Jews

rejoiced and feasted at the getting in of the harvest.

This festivity is undoubtedly of the most remote antiquity. That men in

all nations, where agriculture flourished, should have expressed their

joy on this occasion by some outward ceremonies, has its foundation in

the nature of things. Sowing is hope; reaping, fruition of the expected

good. To the husbandman, whom the fear of wet, blights, &c. had

harrassed with great anxiety, the completion of his wishes could not

fail of imparting an enviable feeling of delight. Festivity is but the

reflex of inward joy, and it could hardly fail of being produced on this

occasion, which is a temporary suspension of every care.[321]

* * * * *

Mr. Brand brings a number of passages to show the manner of celebrating

this season.

One of the “Five hundred points of husbandry” relates to August.

Grant harvest-lord more, by a penny or twoo,

To call on his fellowes the better to doo:

Give gloves to thy reapers a _Larges_ to crie,

And daily to loiterers have a good eie.

_Tusser._

“Tusser Redivivus,” in 1744, says, “He that is the lord of harvest, is

generally some stayed sober-working man, who understands all sorts of

harvest-work. If he be of able body, he commonly leads the swarth in

reaping and mowing. It is customary to give gloves to reapers,

especially where the wheat is thistly. As to crying _a Largess_, they

need not be reminded of it in these our days, whatever they were in our

author’s time.”

* * * * *

Stevenson, in his “Twelve Moneths,” 1661, mentions under August, that

“the furmenty pot welcomes home the harvest cart, and the garland of

flowers crowns the captain of the reapers; the battle of the field is

now stoutly fought. The pipe and the tabor are now busily set a-work,

and the lad and the lass will have no lead on their heels. O! ’tis the

merry time wherein honest neighbours make good cheer; and God is

glorified in his blessings on the earth.”

* * * * *

THE HOCK CART, OR HARVEST HOME.

Come sons of summer, by whose toile

We are the Lords of wine and oile;

By whose tough labours, and rough hands,

We rip up first, then reap our lands,

Crown’d with the eares of corne, now come,

And, to the pipe, sing harvest home.

Come forth, my Lord, and see the cart,

Drest up with all the country art.

See here a maukin, there a sheet

As spotlesse pure as it is sweet:

The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,

Clad, all, in linnen, white as lillies,

The harvest swaines and wenches bound

For joy, to see the hock-cart crown’d.

About the cart heare how the rout

Of rural younglings raise the shout;

Pressing before, some coming after,

Those with a shout, and these with laughter.

Some blesse the cart; some kisse the sheaves;

Some prank them up with oaken leaves:

Some crosse the fill-horse; some with great

Devotion stroak the home-borne wheat:

While other rusticks, lesse attent

To prayers than to merryment,

Run after with their breeches rent.

Well, on brave boyes, to your Lord’s hearth

Glitt’ring with fire, where, for your mirth,

You shall see first the large and cheefe

Foundation of your feast, fat beefe:

With upper stories, mutton, veale,

Add bacon, which makes full the meale;

With sev’rall dishes standing by,

As here a custard, there a pie,

And here all-tempting frumentie,

And for to make the merrie cheere

If smirking wine be wanting here,

There’s that which drowns all care, stout beere,

Which freely drink to your Lord’s health,

Than to the plough, the commonwealth;

Next to your flailes, your fanes, your fatts

Then to the maids with wheaten hats;

To the rough sickle, and the crookt sythe

Drink, frollick, boyes, till all be blythe,

Feed and grow fat, and as ye eat,

Be mindfull that the lab’ring neat,

As you, may have their full of meat;

And know, besides, ye must revoke

The patient oxe unto the yoke,

And all goe back unto the plough

And harrow, though they’re hang’d up now.

And, you must know, your Lord’s word’s true,

Feed him ye must, whose food fils you.

And that this pleasure is like raine,

Not sent ye for to drowne your paine.

But for to make it spring againe.

_Herrick._

* * * * *

Hoacky is brought

Home with hallowin,

Boys with plumb-cake

The cart following.

_Poor Robin_, 1676.

* * * * *

Mr. Brand says, “the respect shown to servants at this season, seems to

have sprung from a grateful sense of their good services. Every thing

depends at this juncture on their labour and despatch. Vacina, (or

Vacuna, so called as it is said _à vacando_, the tutelar deity, as it

were, of rest and ease,) among the ancients, was the name of the goddess

to whom rustics sacrificed at the conclusion of harvest. Moresin tells

us, that popery, in imitation of this, brings home her chaplets of corn,

which she suspends on poles, that offerings are made on the altars of

her tutelar gods, while thanks are returned for the collected stores,

and prayers are made for future ease and rest. Images too of straw or

stubble, he adds, are wont to be carried about on this occasion; and

that in England he himself saw the rustics bringing home in a cart, a

figure made of corn, round which men and women were singing

promiscuously, preceded by a drum or piper.”

The same collector acquaints us that Newton, in his “Tryall of a Man’s

owne Selfe,” (12mo. London, 1602,) under breaches of the second

commandment, censures “the adorning with garlands, or presenting unto

any image of any saint whom thou hast made speciall choice of to be thy

patron and advocate, the firstlings of thy increase, as corne and

graine, and other oblations.”

_Ceres._

As we were returning, says Hentzner, in 1598, to our inn, we happened to

meet some country people celebrating their harvest-home; their last load

of corn they crown with flowers, having besides an image richly dressed,

by which perhaps they would signify Ceres. This they keep moving about,

while men and women, men and maid-servants, riding through the streets

in the cart, shout as loud as they can till they arrive at the barn.

“I have seen,” says Hutchinson in his “History of Northumberland,” “in

some places, an image apparelled in great finery, crowned with flowers,

a sheaf of corn placed under her arm, and a scycle in her hand, carried

out of the village in the morning of the conclusive reaping day, with

music and much clamour of the reapers, into the field, where it stands

fixed on a pole all day, and when the reaping is done, is brought home

in like manner. This they call the harvest queen, and it represents the

Roman Ceres.”

Mr. Brand says, “an old woman, who in a case of this nature is

respectable authority, at a village in Northumberland, informed me that

not half a century ago, they used every where to dress up something

similar to the figure above described, (by Hutchinson,) at the end of

harvest, which was called a harvest doll, or _kern baby_. This northern

word is plainly a corruption of corn baby, or image, as is the _kern_

supper, of corn supper. In Carew’s ‘Survey of Cornwall,’ p. 20. b. ‘an

ill kerned or saved harvest’ occurs.”

* * * * *

At Wellington in Devonshire, the clergyman of the parish informed Mr.

Brand, that when a farmer finishes his reaping, a small quantity of the

ears of the last corn are twisted or tied together into a curious kind

of figure, which is brought home with great acclamations, hung up over

the table, and kept till the next year. The owner would think it

extremely unlucky to part with this, which is called “a knack.” The

reapers whoop and hollow “a knack! a knack! well cut! well bound! well

shocked!” and, in some places, in a sort of mockery it is added, “well

scattered on the ground.” A countryman gave a somewhat different

account, as follows: “When they have cut the corn, the reapers assemble

together: ‘a knack’ is made, which one placed in the middle of the

company holds up, crying thrice ‘a knack,’ which all the rest repeat:

the person in the middle then says--

‘Well cut! well bound!

Well shocked! well saved from the ground.’

He afterwards cries ‘whoop,’ and his companions holloo as loud as they

can.”

“I have not,” says Mr. Brand, “the most distant idea of the etymology of

the ‘knack,’ used on this occasion. I applied for one of them. No farmer

would part with that which hung over his table; but one was made on

purpose for me. I should suppose that Moresin alludes to something like

this when he says, ‘Et spiceas papatus (habet) coronas, quas videre est

in domibus,’ &c.”

* * * * *

It is noticed by Mr. Brand, that Purchas in his “Pilgrimage,” speaking

of the Peruvian superstitions, and quoting Acosta, tells us, “In the

sixth moneth they offered a hundred sheep of all colours, and then made

a feast, bringing the mayz from the fields into the house, which they

yet use. This feast is made, coming from the farm to the house, saying

certain songs, and praying that the mayz may long continue. They put a

quantity of the mayz (the best that groweth in their farms) in a thing

which they call pirva, with certain ceremonies, watching three nights.

Then do they put it in the richest garment they have, and, being thus

wrapped and dressed, they worship this pirva, holding it in great

veneration, and saying, it is the mother of the mayz of their

inheritance, and that by this means the mayz augments and is preserved.

In this moneth they make a particular sacrifice, and the witches demand

of this pirva if it hath strength enough to continue until the next

year; and if it answers no, then they carry this maiz to the farm whence

it was taken, to burn, and make another pirva as before: and this

foolish vanity still continueth.”

On this Peruvian “pirva,” the rev. Mr. Walter, fellow of

Christ’s-college, Cambridge, observes to Mr. Brand, that it bears a

strong resemblance to what is called in Kent, an _ivy girl_, which is a

figure composed of some of the best corn the field produces, and made,

as well as they can, into a human shape; this is afterwards curiously

dressed by the women, and adorned with paper trimmings, cut to resemble

a cap, ruffles, handkerchief, &c. of the finest lace. It is brought

home with the last load of corn from the field upon the waggon, and they

suppose entitles them to a supper at the expense of their employers.

“_Crying the Mare._”

This custom is mentioned by Mr. Brand as existing in Hertfordshire and

Shropshire. The reapers tie together the tops of the last blades of

corn, which they call “mare,” and standing at some distance, throw their

sickles at it, and he who cuts the knot, has the prize, with

acclamations and good cheer. Blount adds, respecting this custom, that

“after the knot is cut, then they cry with a loud voice three times, ‘I

have her.’ Others answer as many times, ‘what have you?’--‘A mare, a

mare, a mare.’--‘Whose is she,’ thrice also.--‘J. B.’ (naming the owner

three times.)--‘Whither will you send her?’--‘To J. a Nicks,’ (naming

some neighbour who has not all his corn reaped;) then they all shout

three times, and so the ceremony ends with good cheer. In Yorkshire,

upon the like occasion, they have a harvest dame; in Bedfordshire, a

Jack and a Gill.”

* * * * *

Having been preceded “into the bosom of the land” by a lady, and become

acquainted with accounts from earlier chroniclers of harvest customs, we

now pay our respects to the communications of other correspondents, who

have been pleased to comply with our call for information.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE AND SUFFOLK.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--With pleasure I have read your entertaining and instructing

collection from its commencement, and I perceive you have touched upon a

subject in one of your sheets, which in my youth used to animate my

soul, and bring every energy of my mind and of my body into activity; I

mean, harvest.

Yes, sir, in my younger days I was introduced into the society of

innocence and industry; but, I know not how it was, Dame Fortune kicked

me out, and I was obliged to dwell in smoke and dirt, in noise and

bustle, in wickedness and strife compared with what I left; but I

forgive her, as you know she is blind. May I, Mr. Editor, converse with

you in this way a little?

In _Gloucestershire_ this interesting season is thus kept. Of course the

good man of the house has informed the industrious and notable dame the

day for harvest-home; and she, assisted by her daughters, makes every

preparation to keep out famine and banish care--the neighbours and

friends are invited, hot cakes of Betty’s own making, and such butter

that Sukey herself had churned, tea, ale, syllabub, gooseberry wine, &c.

And what say you? Why, Mr. Editor, this is nothing, this is but the

beginning--the grand scene is out of doors. Look yonder, and see the

whole of the troop of men, women, and children congregated together.

They are about to bring home the last load. You have seen election

chairings, Mr. Editor; these are mere jokes to it. This load should come

from the furthest field, and that it should be the smallest only just

above the rails, a large bough is placed in the centre, the women and

children are placed on the load, boys on the horses, they themselves

trimmed with cowslips and boughs of leaves, and with shouts of

“harvest-home,” the horses are urged forward, and the procession comes

full gallop to the front of the farm-house, where the before happy party

are waiting to welcome home the _last load_. Now, he who has the loudest

and the clearest voice, mounts upon a neighbouring shed, and with a

voice which would do credit to your city crier, shouts aloud--

We have ploughed, we have sowed,

We have reaped, we have mowed,

We have brought home every load,

Hip, hip, hip, _Harvest home_!

and thus, sir, the whole assembly shout “huzza.” The strong ale is then

put round, and the cake which Miss made with her own hands:--the load is

then driven round to the stack-yard or barn, and the horses put into the

stable. John puts on a clean white frock, and William a clean coloured

handkerchief: the boys grease their shoes to look smart, and all meet in

the house to partake of the harvest supper, when the evening is spent in

cheerfulness. Here, Mr. Editor, is pomp without pride, liberality

without ostentation, cheerfulness without vice, merriment without guilt,

and happiness without alloy.

They say that old persons are old fools and although I am almost blind,

yet I cannot resist telling you of what I have also seen in my boyish

days in _Suffolk_. I do not mean to be long, sir, but merely to give you

a few particulars of an ancient custom, which I must leave you to

finish, so that while you take a hearty pinch of snuff (I know you don’t

like tobacco) I shall have completed.

At the commencement of harvest one is chosen to be “my lord.” He goes

first in reaping, and mowing, and leads in every occupation. Now, sir,

if you were to pass within a field or two of this band of husbandmen,

“my lord” would leave the company, and approaching you with respect, ask

of you a _largess_. Supposing he succeeded, which I know he would, he

would hail his companions, and they would thus acknowledge the gift: my

lord would place his troop in a circle, suppose fifteen men, and that

they were reaping, each one would have a hook in his hand, or, if hoeing

of turnips, he would bring his hoe. My lord then goes to a distance,

mounts the stump of a tree, or a gate post, and repeats a couplet

(forgive the treachery of my memory, for I forget the words). The men

still standing in the circle listen with attention to the words of my

lord, and at the conclusion each with his reap-hook pointing with his

right hand to the centre of the circle, and with intent as if watching

and expecting, they utter altogether a groan as long as four of your

breves (if you go by notes): then, as if impelled together, their eyes

are lifted to the heavens above them, their hooks point in the same

direction, and at the same time they change the doleful groan to a

tremendous shout, which is repeated three distinct times.

The money thus got during harvest, is saved to make merry with at a

neighbouring public-house, and the evening is spent in shouting of the

_largess_, and joyful mirth.

I am, Sir, &c.

S. M.

* * * * *

Another correspondent presents an interesting description of usages in

another county.

NORFOLK.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_---- Norfolk, August, 14, 1826._

Sir,--In this county it is a general practice on the first day of

harvest, for the men to leave the field about four o’clock, and retire

to the alehouse, and have what is here termed a “whet;” that is, a sort

of drinking bout to cheer their hearts for labour. They previously

solicit any who happen to come within their sight with, “I hope, sir,

you will please to bestow a _largess_ on us?” If the boon is conceded

the giver is asked if he would like to have his _largess_ halloed; if

this is assented to, the hallooing is at his service.

At the conclusion of wheat harvest, it is usual for the master to give

his men each a pot or two of ale, or money, to enable them to get some

at the alehouse, where a cheerful merry meeting is held amongst

themselves.

The _last_, or “horkey load” (as it is here called) is decorated with

flags and streamers, and sometimes a sort of _kern baby_ is placed on

the top at front of the load. This is commonly called a “ben;” why it is

so called, I know not, nor have I the smallest idea of its etymon,

unless a person of that name was dressed up and placed in that

situation, and that, ever after, the figure had this name given to it.

This load is attended by all the party, who had been in the field, with

hallooing and shouting, and on their arrival in the farmyard they are

joined by the others. The mistress with her maids are out to gladden

their eyes with this welcome scene, and bestir themselves to prepare the

substantial, plain, and homely feast, of roast beef and plumb pudding.

On this night it is still usual with some of the farmers to invite their

neighbours, friends, and relations, to the “_horkey supper_.” Smiling

faces grace the festive board; and many an ogling glance is thrown by

the rural lover upon the nut-brown maid, and returned with a blushing

simplicity, worth all the blushes ever made at court. Supper ended, they

leave the room, (the cloth, &c. are removed,) and out of doors they go,

and a hallooing “_largess_” commences--thus

[Music: Hallo! Lar- - - - - - - - -gess.

(_ad infinitum._)

(_with three successive Whoops._)]

The men and boys form a circle by taking hold of hands, and one of the

party standing in the centre, having a _gotch_[322] of horkey ale placed

near him on the ground, with a horn or tin sort of trumpet in his hand,

makes a signal, and “halloo! lar-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ge-ess” is given as

loud and as long as their lungs will allow, at the same time elevating

their hands as high as they can, and still keeping hold. The person in

the centre blows the horn one continued blast, as long as the

“halloo-largess.” This is done three times, and immediately followed by

three successive whoops; and then the _glass_, commonly a _horn_ one, of

spirit-stirring ale, freely circles. At this time the hallooing-largess

is generally performed with three times three.

This done, they return to the table, where foaming nappy ale is

accompanied by the lily taper tube, and weed of India growth; and now

mirth and jollity abound, the horn of sparkling beverage is put merrily

about, the song goes round, and the joke is cracked. The females are

cheerful and joyous partakers of this “flow of soul.”

When the “juice of the barrel” has exhilarated the spirits, with eyes

beaming cheerfulness, and in true good rustic humour, the lord of the

harvest accompanied by his lady, (the person is so called who goes

second in the reap, each sometimes wearing a sort of disguise,) with two

plates in his hand, enters the parlour where the guests are seated, and

solicits a largess from each of them. The collection made, they join

their party again at the table, and the lord recounting to his company

the success he has met with, a fresh zest is given to hilarity, a dance

is struck up, in which, though it can hardly be said to be upon the

“light fantastic toe,” the stiffness of age and rheumatic pangs are

forgotten, and those who have passed the grand climactric, feel in the

midst of their teens.

Another show of _disguising_ is commonly exhibited on these occasions,

which creates a hearty rustic laugh, both loud and strong. One of the

party habited as a female, is taken with a violent pang of the tooth

ache, and the doctor is sent for. He soon makes his appearance, mounted

on the back of one of the other men as a horse, having in his hands a

common milking stool, which he bears upon, so as to enable him to keep

his back in nearly a horizontal position. The doctor brings with him the

tongs, which he uses for the purpose of extracting the tooth: this is a

piece of tobacco pipe adapted to the occasion, and placed in the mouth;

a fainting takes place from the violence of the operation, and the

bellows are used as a means of causing a reviving hope.

When the ale has so far operated that some of the party are scarcely

capable of keeping upon their seat, the ceremony of drinking healths

takes place in a sort of glee or catch; one or two of which you have

below. This health-drinking generally finishes the horkey. On the

following day the party go round among the neighbouring farmers (having

various coloured ribands on their hats, and steeple or sugar-loaf formed

caps, decked with various coloured paper, &c.,) to taste _their horkey

beer_, and solicit largess of any one with whom they think success is

likely. The money so collected is usually spent at the alehouse at

night. To this “largess money spending,” the wives and sweethearts, with

the female servants of their late masters, are invited; and a tea table

is set out for the women, the men finding more virtue in the decoction

of Sir John Barleycorn, and a pipe of the best Virginia.

I have put together what now occurs to me respecting harvest-home, and

beg to refer you to Bloomfield’s “Wild Flowers,” in a piece there called

the “Horkey;” it is most delightfully described.

The glee or catch at the health-drinking is as follows:--

Here’s a health unto our master,

He is the finder of the feast:

God bless his endeavours,

And send him increase,

And send him increase, boys,

All in another year.

The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 2 (of 3) or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac · 第 3 / 16 章

Where a well-grounded doubt exists, an asterisk is prefixed to the