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In fine, the family peccadillos being tenderly passed over, and the more favourable reports made the subject of due encomiums, good father Nicholas gave

his parting benediction, together with the promise, (never known to fail,) of more substantial benefits, to be realized on the next auspicious morning. So ends the first act of the farce, which it will be readily anticipated is got up with the special connivance of papa and mamma, by the assistance of some family friend, who is quite au fait to the domestic politics of the establishment. The concluding scene, however, is one of unalloyed pleasure to the delighted children, and is thus arranged.

Before retiring to rest, each member of the family deposits a shoe on a table in a particular room, which is carefully locked, and the next morning is opened in the presence of the assembled household; when lo! by the mysterious agency (doubtless) of the munificent saint, the board is found covered with bons bons, toys, and trinkets.

It may not be deemed irrelevant to add, that on the anniversary, the confectioners' shops display their daintiest inventions, and are gaily lighted up and ornamented for public exhibition, much in the same way as at Paris on the first day of the new year.

These reminiscences may not prove unacceptable to many, who contemplate with satisfaction the relics of ancient observances, belonging to a more primitive state of manners, the memory of which is rapidly passing into oblivion; and who, perhaps, think with the writer, in one sense at least, that modern refinements, if they tend to render us wiser, hardly make us happier!

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

H. H.

Aleppo Pine. Pinus Halipensis. Dedicated to St. Damasus.

Becember 12,

Sts. Epimachus and Alexander,&c.A.D. 250. St. Finian, or Finan, Bp. in Ireland, A. D. 552. St. Columba, son of Crimthain, A. D. 548. St. Cormac. St. Colman, Abbot, ▲. D. 659. St. Eadburge, A. D. 751. St. Valery, Abbot,

A. D. 622. St. Corentin, 1st. Bp. of Quimper, 5th Cent. Another St. Corentin, or Cury, a. D. 401

An intoxicated Servant.

In Lloyd's Evening Post of December 12-14, 1781, there is the following advertisement :

A

YOUNG MAN having yesterday

left his master's service in Smithfield, on a presumption of his pocket being picked of one hundred pounds, his master's property, when he was in liquor; this is to inform him, that he left it in the shop of his master, who has found it; and if he will return to his master's service he will be kindly received

Such was the state of society, in the year 1781, that a drunken servant would be "kindly received" by his employer. We are so far better, in the year 1825, that if such a servant were kindly received, he would not be permitted to enter on his duties till he was admonished not to repeat the vice. Drunkenness is now so properly reprobated, that no one but a thorough reprobate dares to practise it, and the character of sot or drunkard invariably attaches to him.

In the subjoined extract taken from an old author, without recollection of his name, there is something apt to the occasion.

THE TRADE OF BREWING.

By a writer, in the year 1621.

Of all the trades in the world, a brewer is the loadstone which draws the customes of all functions unto it. It is the mark or upshot of every man's ayme, and the bottomlesse whirlepoole that swallowes up the profits of rich and poore. The brewer's art (like a wilde kestrell or lemand hawke,) flies at all games; or like a butler's boxe at Christmasse, it is sure to winne, whosoever loses. In a word, it rules and raignes, (in some sort,) as Augustus Cæsar did, for it taxeth the whole earth. Your innes and alehouses are brookes and rivers, and their clients are small rills and springs, who all, (very dutifully) doe pay their tributes to the boundless ocean of the brewhouse. For, all the world knowes, that if men and women did drinke no more than sufficed nature, or if it were but a little extraordinary now and then upon occasion, or by chance as you may terme it; if drinking were used in any reason, or any reason used in drinking, I pray ye what

would become of the brewer then? Surely we doe live in an age, wherein the seven deadly sins are every man's trade and living.

Pride is the maintainer of thousands, which would else perish; as mercers, taylors, embroydrers, silkmen, cutters, drawers, sempsters, laundresses, of which functions there are millions which would starve but for Madam Pride, with

is a post, beam, or pillar, which holds up the brewhouse; for as the barke is to the tree, so is a good drinker to the brewer.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Crowded Heath. Erica conferta.
Dedicated to St. Eadburge.

December 13.

her changeable fashions. Letchery, what St. Lucy, A. D. 304. St. Jodoc, or Josse,

a continual crop of profits it yeelds, appears by the gallant thriving and gawdy outsides of many he and she, private and publicke sinners, both in citie and suburbs. Covetousnesse is embroydered with extortion, and warmly lined and furred with oppression; and though it be a divell, yet is it most idolatrously adored, honoured, and worshipped by those simple sheep-headed fooles, whom it hath undone and beggared. I could speake of other vices, how profitable they are to a commonwealth; but my invention is thirsty, and must have one carouse more at the brewhouse, who (as I take it) hath a greater share than any, in the gaines which spring from the world's abuses.

make

If any man hang, drowne, stabbe, or by any violent meanes make away his life, the goods and lands of any such person are forfeit to the use of the king; and I see no reason but those which kill themselves with drinking, should be in the same estate, and be buried in the highways, with a stake drove thorow them; and if I had but a grant of this suite, I would not doubt but that in seven yeeres (if my charity would but agree with my wealth,) I might erect almes-houses, freeschooles, mend highways, and bridges; for I dare sweare, that a number (almost numberlesse) have confessed upon their death-beds, that at such and such a time, in such and such a place, they dranke so much, which made them surfeite, of which surfeite they languished and dyed. The maine benefit of these superfluous and manslaughtering expenses, comes to the brewer, so that if a brewer be in any office, I hold him to be a very ingrateful man, if he punish a drunkard; for every stiffe, potvaliant drunkard

Some make a profit of quarreling; some pick their livings out of contentions and debate; some thrive and grow fat by gluttony; many are bravely maintained by bribery, theft, cheating, roguery, and villiany; but put all these together, and joine to them all sorts of people else, and they all in general are drinkers, and consequently the brewer's clients and cus ton erg

A. D. 669. St. Kenelm, King, a. D.
820. St. Aubert, Bp. of Cambray and
Arras, A. D. 669. B. John Marinoni,
A. D. 1562. St. Othilla, A. D. 772.

St. Lucy.

This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. She was a young lady of Syracuse, who preferring a religious single life to marriage, gave away all her fortune to the poor. Having been accused to Peschasius, a heathen judge, for professing christianity, she was soon after barbarously murdered by his officers.*

TRANSATLANTIC VERSES.

from The following effusions are America. The first, by Mr. R. H. Wilde, second, by a lady of Baltimore, who a distinguished advocate of Georgia; the moots in the court of the muses, with as much ingenuity as the barrister in his

own court.

STANZAS.

My life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky,
But, ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered on the ground to die.
Yet on that rose's humble bed
The sweetest dews of night are shed,
As if she wept such waste to see;
But none shall weep a tear for me.
My life is like the autumn leaf

That trembles in the moon's pale ray,
Its hold is frail, its date is brief,

Restless, and soon to pass away.
Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade,
The parent tree shall mourn its shade,
The winds bewail the leafless tree,
But noue shall breath a sigh for me.
My life is like the prints which feet

Have left on Tempe's desert strand,
Soon as the rising tide shall beat

All trace will vanish from the sand.
Yet, as if grieving to efface
All vestige of the human race,
On that lone shore loud moans the sea;
But none, alas! shall mourn for me.

• Audley's Companion to the Almanac

VOL. I.

785

3 E

ANSWER.

The dews of night may fall from heaven,
Upon the wither'd rose's bed,
And tears of fond regret be given,

To mourn the virtues of the dead.
Yet morning's sun the dews will dry,
And tears will fade from sorrow's eye,
Affection's pangs be lull'd to sleep,
And even love forget to weep.

The tree may mourn its fallen leaf,

And autumn winds bewail its bloom,
And friends may heave the sigh of grief,
O'er those who sleep within the tomb.
Yet soon will spring renew the flowers,
And time will bring more smiling hours;
In friendship's heart all grief will die.
And even love forget to sigh.
The sea may on the desert shore,

Lament each trace it bears away;
The lonely heart its grief may pour

O'er cherish'd friendship's fast decay:
Yet when all trace is lost and gone,
The waves dance bright and daily on ;
Thus soon affection's bonds are torn,
And even love forgets to mourn.

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A Winter Piece.

It was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow,
And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow;
When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewilder'd in her way,
Press'd her baby to her bosom, and sadly thus did say :
"Oh! cruel was my father, that shut his door on me,
And cruel was my mother, that such a sight could see;
And cruel is the wintry wind, that chills my heart with cold;
But crueller than all, the lad that left my love for gold!
"Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast;
Ah, little thinks thy father how sadly we're distrest!
For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare,
He'd shield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air.
"Cold, cold, my dearest jewel! thy little life is gone.
Oh! let my tears revive thee, so warm that trickle down;
My tears that gush so warm, oh! they freeze before they fall
Ah! wretched, wretched mother! thou 'rt now bereft of all."
Then down she sunk despairing upon the drifted snow,
And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe:
She kiss'd her babe's pale lips, and laid it by her side;
Then cast her eyes to heaven, then bow'd her head, and died.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Pitch Pine. Pinus resinosa.
Dedicated to St. Florence.

December 16.

St.

St. Ado, Abp. of Vienne, A. D. 875.
Alice, or Adelaide, Empress, A. D. 999.
St. Beanus, Bp. in Leinster.

[Cambridge Term ends.]

"O Sapientia."
This day is so marked in the church of
England calendar and the almanacs,
Many have been puzzled by this distinc-

tion, and some have imagined that “o SAPIENTIA" was a saint and martyr, one of the celebrated eleven thousand virgins of St Ursula. Mr. Audley, however, has rightly observed that, "This day is so in the service of the Latin church, which called from the beginning of an anthem used to be sung for the honour of Christ's advent, from this day till Christmas eve."-The anthem commenced with these words, "o SAPIENTIA quæ ex off altissimi prodidisti," &c.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Chinese arbor vitæ. Thuja orientalis. Dedicated to St. Alice

December 17.

St. Olympias, A. D. 410. St. Begga, Abbess, A. D. 698.

[Oxford Term ends.]

The Season.

By this time all good housewives, with an eye to Christmas, have laid in their stores for the coming festivities. Their mincemeat has been made long ago, and they begin to inquire, with some anxiety, concerning the state of the poultry market, and especially the price of prime roasting beef

"O the roast beef of old England, And O the old English roast beef!"

Manner of Roasting Beef anciently. A correspondent, who was somewhat ruffled in the dog-days by suggestions for preventing hydrophobia, let his wrath down before the dog-star; and in calm good nature he communicates a pleasant anecdote or two, which, at this time, may be deemed acceptable.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Dear Sir,

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

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

66

It is recorded, that a party of young wags hired the chairmen on Saturday night to steal all the turnspits in the town, and lock them up till the following evening. Accordingly on Sunday, when every body desires roast meat for dinner, all the cooks were to be seen in the streets,Pray have you seen our Chloe?" says one. 66 Why," replies the other," I was coming to ask you if you had seen our Pompey;" up came a third while they were talking, to inquire for her Toby,and there was no roast meat in Bath that day. It is recorded, also, of these dogs had as usual followed their mistresses to in this city, that one Sunday, when they church, the lesson for the day happened to be that chapter in Ezekiel, wherein the self-moving chariots are described. When first the word "wheel" was pronounced, all the curs pricked up their ears in alarm; at the second wheel they set up a doleful howl; and when the dreaded word was uttered a third time, every one of them scampered out of church, as fast as he could, with his tail between his legs. Nov. 25, 1825. JOHN FOSTER.

A real EVERY-DAY English Dialogue. (From the Examiner.)

A. (Advancing) "Ilow d'ye do,

Brooks?"

B. "Very well, thank'ee; how do you do?"

A. "Very well, thank'ee; is Mrs. Brooks well?"

B. "Very well, I'm much obliged t'ye. Mrs. Adams and the children are well, I hope?"

A. "Quite well, thank'ee."
(A pause.)

B. "Rather pleasant weather to-day 4. "Yes, but it was cold in the morning."

B. "Yes, but we must expect that at this time o' year."

neckcloth twisted

(Another pause, and switch twirled.) A. "Seen Smith lately?" B. "No, I can't say I have—but I have seen Thompson."

A. "Indeed-how is he?" B. "Very well, thank'ee." A. "I'm glad of it. morning."

B. "Good morning."

-

Well,-good

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

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Dear Sir

Abbeville, Nov. 14, 1825.

Thomson

send you a budget of these gallimaufry odds and ends, whereon I know you have set your heart, yet I hope you will believe that I thoroughly determined to keep my word. To be frank, I had no sooner landed, than desire came over me to

reach my domicile at this place as fast as It is of all things in the world the most possible, and get at my old field-sports unpleasant to write about nothing, when I therefore posted hither without delay one knows a letter with something is ex- and, having my gun once more in my for pious chansons, miraculous stories, the lark, lark shooting, and letting fly at pected It is true I promised to look out hand, have been up every morning with and other whims and wonders of the all that flies-my conscience flying and French vulgar; and though I do not flapping in my face at every recollection

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