May 16.

At IslingtonA fair they hold,Where cakes and aleAre to be sold.At Highgate, andAt HollowayThe like is keptHere every day.At Totnam CourtAnd Kentish Town,And all those placesUp and down.Poor Robin, 1676.

At IslingtonA fair they hold,Where cakes and aleAre to be sold.At Highgate, andAt HollowayThe like is keptHere every day.At Totnam CourtAnd Kentish Town,And all those placesUp and down.

Poor Robin, 1676.

The “Reading Mercury” of May 24, 1819, contains the followingadvertisement:—

“Peppard Revelwill be held on Whit Monday, May 31, 1819; and for the encouragement of young and old gamesters, there will be a good hat to be played for at cudgels; for the first seven couple that play, the man that breaks most heads to have the prize; and one shilling and sixpence will be given to each man that breaks a head, and one shilling to the man that has his head broke.”

Mean Temperature 54·35.

[181]Topographical, &c. Description of Oxfordshire.[182]Blount’s Jocular Tenures.[183]Carew’s Cornwall.[184]Aubrey’s Wiltshire.[185]Brand.

[181]Topographical, &c. Description of Oxfordshire.

[182]Blount’s Jocular Tenures.

[183]Carew’s Cornwall.

[184]Aubrey’s Wiltshire.

[185]Brand.

His Grace the Duke of Baubleshire,Among the peers without compeer,A noble lord of parliament,Upon “his country’s good” intent,Through Durham daily took his walk,And talk’d, “ye gods, how he would talk!”His private riches how immense!His public virtue, how intensePreeminent of all the great,His mighty wisdom ruled the state!His claims, to high consideration,Brought deeper into debt the nation.Was he not, then, a statesman? what,Else, could he be?—for I know not.

His Grace the Duke of Baubleshire,

Among the peers without compeer,A noble lord of parliament,Upon “his country’s good” intent,Through Durham daily took his walk,And talk’d, “ye gods, how he would talk!”His private riches how immense!His public virtue, how intensePreeminent of all the great,His mighty wisdom ruled the state!His claims, to high consideration,Brought deeper into debt the nation.Was he not, then, a statesman? what,Else, could he be?—for I know not.

On the sixteenth of May, 1796, died in Durham workhouse, at the advanced age of eighty-five years, the “duke of Baubleshire.” His title was neither ancestral, nor conferred by creation; but, as Napoleonis said to have placed the iron crown on his own head, and vowed to maintain it with his sword, so Thomas French assumed the title of duke of Baubleshire of his own will, and maintained his nobility throughout life, by wearing a star of coloured paper, or cloth, on the breast of his spencer. As a further mark of his quality, he mounted a cockade in his hat, and several brass curtain rings on his fingers. Thus decorated, and with a staff in his hand to support his feeble frame, he constantly tottered through Durham; every street of which ancient city acknowledged his distinction.

At this time it is difficult to conjecture the origin of Thomas French’s title. He assumed it with the decline of his understanding, until which period he had been a labouring man, and supported himself by the work of his hands. In right of his dukedom, he publicly urged his claims to immense possessions. It was his constant usage to stop and accost every one he knew, or could introduce himself to, on points of business, connected with the Baubleshire estates. Though at no time master of a shilling, he incessantly complained of having been defrauded of vast amounts, in cash and bank bills; and parties whom he suspected of these transactions, he threatened to punish with the utmost rigour of the law. He seldom saw a goodly horse, or a handsome carriage, without claiming it, and insisted on his rights so peremptorily and pertinaciously, as to be exceedingly vexatious to the possessors of the property. He fearlessly exhibited charges of misappropriation against individuals of all ranks and conditions. According to his grace’s representations, every covetable personalty in Durham and its vicinage, had been clandestinely obtained from Baubleshire; nor did he make any secret of his intimate and frequent correspondence with the king, on the subject of raising men for carrying on the war, and other important affairs of state. He likewise expressed his opinions on other men’s characters and conduct without reserve; and notwithstanding his abject poverty, his pointed observations frequently inflicted wounds, for which it would have been folly to express resentment.

The duke of Baubleshire was occupied with his numerous concerns, till within three or four days of his death, when he took to his bed; and over burdened by old age, peaceably lay down with the other departed dignitaries of the earth. The presentportraitand particulars of him are from a print lithographed at Durham, where he took his title, and where he still lives in ephemeral fame.

Mean Temperature 55·30.

1826.Ember Week.

Oxford Term begins.

On the seventeenth of May, 1817, a respectable farmer of Kirton Lindsey for a wager of a few pounds, undertook to ride a poney up two pair of stairs into a chamber of the George Inn, and down again, which he actually performed before a numerous company, whose astonishment was heightened by the rider being upwards of eleven stone weight, and his horse less than thirty. They were weighed after the feat to decide a wager.

Mean Temperature 56·65.

On the eighteenth of May, 1664, the following public advertisement was issued for the healing of the people by king Charles II.

Notice.

His sacred majesty having declared it to be his royal will and purpose to continue the healing of his people for the evil during the month of May, and then give over till Michalmas next. I am commanded to give notice thereof, that the people may not come up to the town in the interim and lose their labour.

Newes, 1664.

Mean Temperature 55·32.

A willing record is given to the memory of an unfortunate young man, in the language of an intelligent correspondent.

For the Every-Day Book.

Poor Joe Moody lived in Ballingdon, a village in Essex; he was an idiot, a good, simple-hearted creature. The character of his infirmity was childishness; he would play at marbles, spin his top, run his hoop, and join the little boys in the village, with whom he was a great favourite, in all their sports. As a boy he was rational, but when he assumed the man, which he would now and then do, the poor fellow was a sad picture of misery. He would sit upon the steps of an old house, and ask if you did not hear the thunder; then he would start as if to restrain the fury of a horse, and he would suddenly become mild again, and say, “I have seen her grave!” and he would weep like a child for hours. The story of his early life I have heard my father thusrelate:—

“When I went to school with Joe Moody, he was a fine fellow, and remarkable for his good temper and lively disposition; he could run from us all, and was one of the best cricketers in the town. After he had left school he became acquainted with HarrietF——;she was a very lovely girl, young and amiable, and had been sought by more than one respectable farmer in the neighbourhood; but Joe was preferred by her, and by her parents. I need not say how endeared to each other they were; the sequel shows it too plainly. In a few days they were to have been made happy; friends were invited to the wedding, and a rich old aunt was to be of the party. Joe proposed that Harriet and himself should go and fetch this old lady; a mark of respect which was readily agreed to. With hopes high, and hearts of gaiety, the young folks set off on a fine summer’s morning, with feelings which only youth and love can know. Who can say this shall be a day of happiness? They had scarcely lost sight of home when the sky became overcast, and in a few minutes a dreadful storm burst over their heads. The thunder and lightning were terrific, and the high spirited horse became unmanageable. Poor Joe endeavoured to restrain its fury, but in vain; it left the track of the road; the hood of the chaise struck against the projecting branch of a tree, and both were thrown out with extreme violence to the earth. Joe soon recovered, and his first care was his Harriet—she was a corpse at his feet! Poor Joe spoke not for some weeks; and the first return of imperfect sense, was shown by his swimming a little cork boat which he found.”

This humour was encouraged, and often his melancholy weeping mood was turned by a kind proposition to play a game at marbles. He would come to my father’s house sometimes, and borrow a penny to buy marbles, a string for a kite, or some trifling toy. He never had his hair cut: it was very black and glossy; and used to curl and hang about his shoulders like the hair of Charles II., whom he resembled somewhat in the face. Joe went regularly to church, and as regularly to the grave of his Harriet. In rainy or tempestuous weather, he would sit upon the steps of the door where he first met her, and ask of passing strangers whether they had seen her. He had a fine voice and taste for singing, with which he would sometimes amuse himself, but it generally led him to melancholy. Joe feared but one person in the village, a Mr.S——,who once beat him at school in a boyish fight.

I went to Ballingdon last summer, and asked for Joe: an old man told me he died suddenly on seeing a horse run away—he showed me his grave.

W. Doowruh.

May, 1826.

Mean Temperature 55·70.

On the twentieth of May, 1736, the body of Samuel Baldwin, Esq. was, in compliance with an injunction in his will, immersed,sans ceremonie, in the sea at Lymington, Hants. His motive for this extraordinary mode of interment was, to prevent his wife from “dancing over his grave,” which this modern Xantippe had frequently threatened to do in case she survived him.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—A desultory sketch of the more prominent features, on the darker side of Scotch character, if deemed worthy of insertion, is at your service.

Researches into ancient usages, the way of leading life, and the customs andsuperstitious belief, which gave tinge and sway to those who peopled the world before us, are often ridiculed as frivolous by casual observers. But the events of centuries past have become classic from their associations with many of our own. Such observers are apt to forget that much in our present manners is as certainly derived from the popular opinions of past ages, as the heaving of the ocean is caused by the submarine ground swell.

Neither the thoughts nor the actions of men, are to be compared or measured by an unvarying standard of consistency or reason. The passions are the real, though unsteady and eccentric guides of our motions; of these, fear is the most predominant; and in its hour of operation, has the most commanding power. Why is it, that a man in a state of inebriety will be little the worse for bruises which would cost the same man sober, his life? It is not the alcohol that gives life its tenacity, but it is the consequent absence of fear which prevents imaginary, being added to real dangers. Like love, it feeds its own flame. In all ages, when earthly objects have ceased to terrify, men have conjured up phantoms for their minds’ excitation, which, when reason told them, were false, because invisible to the senses, they clothed with superhuman attributes; still, however, taking advantage of every incident their fancy misrepresented, to prove, at least, their material effects. Such is witchcraft; which in Scotland, not many years ago, was as generally believed in as Christianity, and which many, who have been excluded from the polish of society, believe in still. Those who ventured to impugn the doctrine, were held to be what the mob did not understand, but what they believed to be something of extraordinary iniquity—“Papists.”

The month of May has always been deemed peculiarly favourable for supernatural appearances. No one will marry in May: but on the first morning of that month, maidens rise early to gather May-dew, which they throw over their shoulder in order to propitiate fate in allotting them a good husband. If they can succeed by the way in catching a snail by the horns, and throwing it over their shoulder, it is an omen of good luck; and if it is placed on a slate, then likewise it will describe by its turning, the initials of their future husband’s name.

Anciently, the month of May was ushered in with many solemn rites, and the first day had the name of “Beltane.” The “Beltane time” was a season of boisterous mirth and riotous festivity. There is still a fair at the town of Peebles, which goes by the name of the Beltane fair. Our king, James I., says,

“At Beltane quhar ilk bodie bownisTo Peblis to the play,To hear ye sing and ye soundisThe solace suth to say.”

The mob elected a “king and queen of May,” and dressed them fantastically to preside over their ceremonies. There were also peculiar games, and “Clerks’ Plays,” with which the multitude amused themselves at this season.

Among other superstitious observances for which May is reckoned favourable, there is a custom of visiting certain wells, which were believed to possess a charm, for “curing of sick people,” during that month. In 1628, a number of persons were brought before the Kirk Session of Falkirk, accused of going to Christ’s well on the Sundays of May, to seek their health, and the whole being found guilty were sentenced to repent “in linens” three several sabbaths. “And it is statute and ordained that if any person, or persons, be found superstitiously and idolatrously, after this, to have passed in pilgrimage to Christ’s well, on the Sundays of May to seek their health, they shall repent insacco(sackcloth) and linen three several sabbaths, and pay twenty lib (Scots)toties quoties, for ilk fault; and if they cannot pay it, the baillies shall be recommended to put them in ward, and to be fed on bread and water for aughtdays.”[186]They were obliged, for the preservation of the charm, to keep strict silence on the way, to and from the well, and not to allow the vessel in which the water was, to touch the ground.

In 1657, a mob of parishioners were summoned to the session, for believing in the powers of the well of Airth, a village about six miles north of Falkirk, on the banks of the Forth, and the whole were sentenced to be publicly rebuked for the sin.—“Feb. 3, 1757, Session convenit. Compeared Bessie Thomson, who declairit scho went to the well at Airth, and that schoe left money thairat, and after the can was fillat with water, they keepit it from touching the ground till they cam hom.”“February 24.—Compeired Robert Fuird who declared he went to the well of Airth, and spoke nothing als he went, and that Margrat Walker went with him, and schoe said ye beleif about the well, and left money and ane napkin at the well, and all was done at her injunction.” “Compeared Bessie Thomson declarit schoe fetchit hom water from the said well and luit it not touch the ground in homcoming, spoke not as sha went, said the beleif at it, left money and ane napkin thair; and all was done at Margrat Walker’s command,” “Compeired Margrat Walker who denyit yat scho was at yat well befoir and yat scho gave my directions.” “March 10. Compeared Margrat Forsyth being demandit if scho went to the well of Airth, to fetch water thairfrom, spok not by ye waye, luit it not touch ye ground in homcoming? if scho said ye belief? left money and ane napkin at it? Answered affirmatively in every poynt, and yat Nans Brugh directit yem, and yat they had bread at ye well, with them, and yat Nans Burg said shoe wald not be affrayit to goe to yat well at midnight hir alon.” “Compeired Nans Burg, denyit yat ever scho had bein at yat well befoir.” “Compeired RotSquir confest he went to yat well at Airth, fetchit hom water untouiching ye ground, left money and said ye beleif at it.” “March 17. Compeired RotCochran, declairit, he went to the well at Airth and ane other well, bot did neither say ye beleif, nor leave money.” “Compeired Grissal Hutchin, declairit scho commandit the lasses yat went to yat well, say ye beleif, but dischargit hir dochter.” “March 21. Compeired Robert Ffuird who declairit yat Margrat Walker went to ye well of Airth to fetch water to Robert Cowie, and when schoe com thair, scho laid down money in Gods name, and ane napkin in RotCowie’s name.” “Compeired Jonet Robison who declairit yat when scho was seik, Jean Mathieson com to hir and told hir, that the water of the well of Airth was guid for seik people, and yat the said Jean hir guid sister desyrit hir fetch sum of it to hir guid man as he was seik, bot scho durst never tell him.” These people were all “publicly admonishit for superstitious carriage.” Yet within these few years, a farmer and his servant were known to travel fifty miles for the purpose of bringing water from a charmed well in the Highlands to cure their sick cattle.

The records contain some curious notices concerning witchcraft, which are all certified to “my lord’s court,” the baronial juridical conservator of the public peace; but, if we may judge from the re-appearance of the parties, none, much to the laird of Callander’s honour, ever were punished. I may afterwards give some of these for the amusement of the readers of theEvery-Day Book, who will likewise find in the “Scots’ Magazine” for March, 1814, an account of trials for witchcraft at Borroustaunness, which ended in six poor creatures’ condemnation on the twenty-third of December, 1679, to “be wirried at a steak till they be dead, and then to have their bodies burnt to ashes!”

The reputed consequences of theblink of an ill-ee, are either death, or some horrible debility; for which there are some preventitives, such as rolling a red silk thread round the finger or the neck, or keeping a slip of rowntree (mountain ash) in the bonnet; and last, not least, there is a “gruel, thick and slab,” which is reckoned efficacious in averting “Skaith.” At this day, even in the twenty-sixth year of the nineteenth century, an old woman in Falkirk earns a comfortable livelihood by the sale of “Skaith Saw.”

I am, Sir, &c.Robert Kier

Falkirk, May 16, 1826.

Mean Temperature 55·42.

[186]Session Records, June 12, 1628.

For usages on this day, see vol. i. p. 722.

It is observed by Dr. Forster in the “Perennial Calendar,” that the sky is generally serene, and the weather mild and agreeable, about this time. A cloudy day, however, frequently happens, and is sometimes succeeded by a day’s rain; but we have noticed frequently, that an overcast sky, when not too obscure, is the best for viewing flowers, and at this time of year often sets off the splendid Vernal Flora to great advantage.

Song to Summer.Hail, rural goddess of delight!I woo thy smiles from morn till night;Now no more rude Eurus blowsO’er mountains of congealed snows;But thy faire handmaid lovely MaieTreads the fresh lawns, and leads the waie.Now, at Flora’s earlie call,The meadows greene and vallies allPour forth their variegated flowers,To regale the sportive hours.Hence then let me fly the crowdeOf busy men, and seke the woode,With some Dryad of the grove,By shades of elm and oak to rove,Till some sequestered spot we find,There, on violet bank reclined,We fly the day-star’s burning heate,Which cannot reach our green retreate;While Zephyr, with light whispering breeze,Softly dances in the trees;And, upon his muskie wing,Doth a thousand odours bringFrom the blooming mead below,Where cowslips sweet and daisies blow;And from out her grassie bedThe harebell hangs her nodding head;Hard bye, some purling stream beside,Where limpid waters gently glide,Iris shows her painted woofOf variegated hues, windproof;And with water lillies there,The nymphs and naids braid the haire;And from out their leafie haunt,The birdes most melodious chant.Then, sweet nymph, at eventide,Let us roam the broke beside,While the lovelorn nightingaleSadlie sings the woods ymel,Till the bittern’s booming noteO’er the sounding mashes flote,And the ominous owls do crie,While luckless bats are flitting bye;Then before the midnight houre,When ghostlie sprites and pizgies coure,We will betake us to our cot,And be it there, O sleep, our lot,To rest in balmie slumberings,Till the next cock his matin rings.

Song to Summer.

Hail, rural goddess of delight!I woo thy smiles from morn till night;Now no more rude Eurus blowsO’er mountains of congealed snows;But thy faire handmaid lovely MaieTreads the fresh lawns, and leads the waie.Now, at Flora’s earlie call,The meadows greene and vallies allPour forth their variegated flowers,To regale the sportive hours.Hence then let me fly the crowdeOf busy men, and seke the woode,With some Dryad of the grove,By shades of elm and oak to rove,Till some sequestered spot we find,There, on violet bank reclined,We fly the day-star’s burning heate,Which cannot reach our green retreate;While Zephyr, with light whispering breeze,Softly dances in the trees;And, upon his muskie wing,Doth a thousand odours bringFrom the blooming mead below,Where cowslips sweet and daisies blow;And from out her grassie bedThe harebell hangs her nodding head;Hard bye, some purling stream beside,Where limpid waters gently glide,Iris shows her painted woofOf variegated hues, windproof;And with water lillies there,The nymphs and naids braid the haire;And from out their leafie haunt,The birdes most melodious chant.Then, sweet nymph, at eventide,Let us roam the broke beside,While the lovelorn nightingaleSadlie sings the woods ymel,Till the bittern’s booming noteO’er the sounding mashes flote,And the ominous owls do crie,While luckless bats are flitting bye;Then before the midnight houre,When ghostlie sprites and pizgies coure,We will betake us to our cot,And be it there, O sleep, our lot,To rest in balmie slumberings,Till the next cock his matin rings.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—As the anniversary of that day, on which the greatest mathematician of his time was removed from this transitory world, is fast approaching, I hasten to send you a brief memorial, selected from various local works, of that truly original and eccentric genius. I also enclose a fac-simile of his hand writing, which was presented to me by a very obliging friend, Robert Surtees, of Mainsforth, Esq., F. S. A., and author of a very splendid and elaborate “History of the County Palatinate of Durham.”

Your’s truly,John Sykes

Newcastle, Tyne, April 25, 1826.

signature

William Emerson was born at Hurworth, a pleasant village, about three miles from Darlington, in the county of Durham, on the 14th of May, 1701. The preceptor of his early years was his own father, of whom he learned writing and arithmetic, and probably the rudiments of Latin. After having studied mathematics with much ardour under able masters, at Newcastle and York, he returned to Hurworth, and again benefited by the knowledge of his father, who was a tolerable master of the mathematics. Some degree of Emerson’s celebrity may be attributed to the treatment which he received from Dr. Johnson, rector of Hurworth, whose niece he had married. The doctor had engaged to give five hundred pounds to his niece, who lived with him, as a marriage portion; but when reminded of the promise, he choose to forget that it had been made, and treated our young mathematician as a person beneath his notice.

The pecuniary disappointment Emerson (who had an independent spirit, and whose patrimony though not large, was equal to all his wants) would easily have surmounted, but the contemptuous treatment stung him to the soul. He immediately went home, packed up his wife’s clothes, and sent them to the doctor, saying, that he would scorn to be beholden to such a fellow for a single rag; vowing at the same time that he would be revenged, and prove himself to be thebetter man of the two. His first publication, however, did not meet with immediate encouragement, and most probably his other works would never have appeared, at least in the author’s lifetime, if Edward Montague, Esq., his great admirer and friend, had not procured him the patronage of Mr. JohnNourse, bookseller and optician, who being himself skilled in the more abstruse sciences, immediately engaged Emerson to furnish a regular course of mathematics for the use of students, and in the summer of 1763, Emerson made a journey to London, to settle and fulfil the agreement.

His devotion to the philosophy of sir Isaac Newton was so uncommonly strong, that every oppugner of this great man was treated by Emerson as dull, blind, bigotted, prejudiced, or mad, and the fire and impetuosity of his temper would on these occasions betray him into language far distant from the strictness of mathematical demonstration. Mr. E. was in person something below the common size, but firm, compact, well made, very active and strong. He had a good open expressive countenance, with a ruddy complexion, a keen and penetrating eye, and an ardour and eagerness of look that was very demonstrative of the texture of his mind. His dress was grotesque frequently; sometimes mean and shabby. A very few hats served him through the whole course of his life; and when he purchased one (or indeed any other article of dress) it was perfectly indifferent to him whether the form or fashion of it was of the day, or of half a century before. One of these hats of immense superficies, had, by length of time, lost its elasticity, and its brim began to droop in such a manner as to prevent his being able to view the objects before him in a direct line. This was not to be endured by an optician; he therefore took a pair of sheers, and cut it off by the body of the hat, leaving a little to the front, which he dexterously rounded into the resemblance of the nib of a jockey’s cap. His wigs were made of brown, or of a dirty flaxen coloured hair, which at first appeared bushy and tortuous behind, but which grew pendulous through age, till at length it became quite straight, having probably never undergone the operation of the comb; and either through the original mal-formation of the wig, or from a custom he had of frequently thrusting his hand beneath it, the back part of his head and wig seldom came into very close contact. His coat or more properly jacket, or waistcoat with sleeves to it, which he commonly wore without any other waistcoat, was of drab colour; his linen was more calculated for warmth and duration than show, being spun and bleached by his wife, and woven at Hurworth. In cold weather he had a custom of wearing his shirt with the wrong side before, and buttoned behind the neck, yet this was not an affectation of singularity, (for Emerson had no affectation, though his customs and manners were singular,) he had a reason for it; he seldom buttoned more than two or three buttons of his waistcoat, leaving all the rest open; in wind, rain, or snow, therefore, he must have found the aperture at the breast inconvenient if his shirt had been put on in the usual manner. When he grew aged, in cold weather, he used to wear what he calledshin-covers: these were pieces of old sacking, tied with strings above the knee, and depending down to the shoe, in order to prevent his legs from being scorched when he sat too near the fire. This singularity of dress and figure, together with his character for profound learning, and knowledge more than human, occasioned the illiterate and ignorant to consider him as a cunning man, or necromancer, and various stories have been related of his skill in theblack art. He affected an appearance of infidelity on religious matters, and was an example to the vulgar, not a little reprehensible. His diet was as simple and plain as his dress, and his meals gave little interruption either to his studies, employments, or amusements. He catered for himself, and pretty constantly went to Darlington, to make his own markets; yet, when he had provided all the necessary articles, he not unfrequently neglected to return home for a day or two, seating himself contentedly in some public house, where he could procure good ale and company, and passing the hours in various topics of conversation. His style of conversation was generally abrupt and blunt, and often vulgar and ungrammatical. This occasioned a supposition, that his prefaces were not written by himself, an opinion that was one day mentioned to him, and the disparity of his conversation and writing pointed out as the reason. After a momentary pause, he exclaimed, with some indignation, “A pack of fools! who would write my prefaces but myself.” Mr. Emerson often tried to practise the effect of his mathematical speculations, by constructing a variety of instruments, mathematical, mechanical, and musical, on a small scale. He made a spinning-wheel for his wife, which is represented in his book of mechanics. He was well skilledin the science of music, the theory of sounds, and the various scales both ancient and modern. He was a great contributor to the “Lady’s Diary,” under the signature of “Merones,” and for many years unknown, until a transposition of letters discovered hisname.[187]During the greater part of his life, his health had been strong and uninterrupted; but as he advanced into the vale of years, internal complaints allowed him but little intermission of pain, and at length deprived him of breath on the twenty-first of May, 1782, aged eighty-one years and one week. He was buried in the churchyard of his native village where he died. About a twelvemonth before his decease, he was prevailed on after much importunity, to sit for his portrait, which was taken by Mr. Sykes, for his friend Mr. Cloudsley of Darlington, surgeon. It is said to be a most striking likeness.

Mean Temperature 55·32.

[187]“Beneath the shelter of the silent elm,His native elm (to sapience still a friend)Meronesloves, and meditates beneathThe verdure of thy leaves: see thereHow silently he sits! and lost in thought,Weighs in his mind some great design! revolvesHe now hisSubtile Fluxions?or displaysBy truest signs theSphere’s Projectionwide?Wide as thy sphere, Merones, be thy fame.”See a poem on the old Elm at Hurworth, inGent. Mag.for May, 1756.

[187]

“Beneath the shelter of the silent elm,His native elm (to sapience still a friend)Meronesloves, and meditates beneathThe verdure of thy leaves: see thereHow silently he sits! and lost in thought,Weighs in his mind some great design! revolvesHe now hisSubtile Fluxions?or displaysBy truest signs theSphere’s Projectionwide?Wide as thy sphere, Merones, be thy fame.”

See a poem on the old Elm at Hurworth, inGent. Mag.for May, 1756.

At East-Bourn, in “a descriptive account of that village in the county of Sussex,” there is mention of a very singular custom having prevailed for many years under the denomination of “Sops and Ale.” It was productive of much mirth and good humour, being conducted as follows: the senior bachelor in the place was elected by the inhabitants, steward, and to him was delivered a damask napkin, a large wooden bowl, twelve wooden trenchers, twelve wooden knives and forks, two wooden candlesticks, and two wooden cups for the reception of sugar; and on the Saturday fortnight the steward attended at the church-door, with a white wand in his hand, and gave notice that sops and ale would be given that evening at such a place. Immediately after any lady, or respectable farmer or tradesman’s wife became mother of a child, the steward called at the house, and begged permission for “sops and ale;” which was always granted, and conducted in the following order:—Three tables were placed in some convenient room; one of which was covered with the above napkin, and had a china bowl and plates, with silver handled knives and forks placed on it; and in the bowl were put biscuits sopped with wine, and sweetened with fine sugar. The second table was also covered with a cloth, with china, or other earthern plates, and a bowl with beer sops, sweetened with fine sugar, and decent knives and forks. The third table was placed without any cloth; and on it were put the wooden bowl, knives, forks, and trenchers, as before described, with the candlesticks and sugar cups; and in the bowl were beer sops, sweetened with the coarsest sugar. As soon as the evening service was over, having had previous notice from the steward, the company assembled, and were placed in the following order:—those persons whose wives were mothers of twins, were placed at the upper or first table; those whose wives had a child or children, at the second table; and such persons as were married, and had no children, together with the old bachelors, were placed at the third table, which was styledthe bachelors’ table, under which title the gentlemen who sat at it, were addressed for that evening, and the gentlemen at the first table were styledbenchers. Proper toasts were given, adapted for the occasion, and the company always broke up at eight o’clock, generally very cheerful and good-humoured.

Mean Temperature 54·87.

This is the anniversary of one of the great duke of Marlborough’s most celebrated engagements, the battle of Ramilles, a place near Namur in the Netherlands,where, on this day, in the year 1706, he gained a memorable victory over the French. It was in this battle that colonel Gardiner, then an ensign in the nineteenth year of his age, received a shot in his mouth, from a musket ball, which, without destroying any of his teeth, or touching the fore part of his tongue, went through his neck, and came out about an inch and a half on the left side of the vertebræ. He felt no pain, but dropped soon after, and lay all night among his dying companions; he recovered in an almost miraculous manner, and became, from a most profligate youth, a character eminent forpiety.[188]

Mean Temperature 55·57.

[188]Butler’s Chronological Exercises.

On this day, in 1736, five felons in Newgate were to have been executed; but the prison was so insecure, that, during the night, one of them “took up a board and got out of his cell, and made his escape.” The other four were taken to Tyburn and suffered their sentence; and Jack Ketch “on his return from doing his duty at Tyburn, robbed a woman of three shillings andsixpence.”[189]

Mean Temperature 56·42.

[189]Gentleman’s Magazine.

On Corpus Christi day, at about a quarter before one o’clock at noon, the worshipful company of skinners (attended by a number of boys which they have in Christ’s Hospital school, and girls strewing herbs before them) walk in procession from their hall on Dowgate-hill, to the church of St. Antholin’s, in Watling-street, to hear service. This custom has been observed time out of mind.

This notice is communicated by one of the company.

For other customs on this festival, see vol. i. p. 742 to 758.

Mean Temperature 58·52.

Mean Temperature 59·35.

1799. On this and the three following days, the library of the celebrated Addison was sold by auction by Messrs. Leigh and Sotheby, at their house in York-street, Covent-garden. The books were brought from Bilton, where Addison had resided, near Rugby, in Warwickshire, and under Mr. Leigh’s hammer produced 456l.2s.9d.

There is a portrait of Mr. Leigh, who is since dead, from a drawing by Mr. Behnes.

Mr. Leigh dissolved partnership with Mr. Sotheby, his son supplied his father’s place, and the business was carried on in the Strand. On Mr. Leigh’s death, his surviving partner continued it, as he still does, near the same spot in Waterloo-place, whither he removed in consequence of the premises being required for other purposes. This establishment is the oldest of the kind in London: under Mr. Sotheby’s management its ancient reputation is supported: his sales are of the highest respectability, and attended by the best collectors. Mr. Sotheby sold the matchlessniellosand other prints of sir Mark Sykes. For collections of that nature, and for libraries, his arrangements are of a most superior order. One of the greatest treats to a lover of literature is a lounge at Mr. Sotheby’s during one of his sales.

Mean Temperature 58·50.

The journals of this day, in 1736, announce that mademoiselle Salle, a famous dancer at Paris, who valued herself highly on her reputation, instituted an order there, of which she was president, by the name of “the Indifferents.” Both sexes were indiscriminately admitted after a nice scrutiny into their qualifications.They had rites, which no one was to disclose. The badge of the order was a ribbon striped, black, white, and yellow, and the device something like an icicle. They took an oath to fight against love, and if any of the members were particular in their regards, they were excluded the order withignominy.[190]

Mean Temperature 58·90.

Back to Index Next