at 12 o'clock. At that hour, also, on the firing of a cannon, the Presidents, Vice Presidents, and dinner company, sporting their true-blue cockades and streamers, assembled in the Crown Meadow. At half past twelve, another piece of ordnance gave the joyous intimation that the cooks were all busily employed in taking up and dishing the respective courses. In another half hour, the dinner was on the table; and as soon as the whole had been properly arranged, a bugle sounded, the company arose, and the Presidents invoked a blessing on the feast. Due time having been allowed for the destruction of beef and pudding, a second bugle sounded, the tables were cleared, thanks were returned, and as the first loyal toast, "The King" was given with three times three: from fifteen hundred voices at once, the air resounded with " the King,” and the succeeding shouts made the very welkin shake. After the above, the whole company adjourned to the Oylmpic Course,"

..

"And there another feast began!"

To describe, particularly, the numerous sports, which awaited the spectators, would be impossible: they consisted of a Jerusalem poney race, a jumping match in sacks, foot races, grinning-matches through horse-collars, jingling-matches, &c. &c. To crown the solemnities of the day, a grand bonfire was lighted, in which the unhappy effigy of Bonaparte was mercilessly consigned to the flames. A brilliant display of fire-works succeeded, and closed this august festival.

THE loyal men of Suffolk, to Woodbridge they did go,
On the eighth of July, to see a gallant show,
For there were such doings as ne'er were known before,
And if you live an hundred years you'll see the like

no more.

Fifteen hundred of the inhabitants din'd in the mar

ket place,

Off plum-pudding and roast beef, in remembrance of this peace;

Men, women and their children, all eat there very hearty,

And after dinner made a fire, for to burn Bonaparte.

When the gentlemen had din'd, the bells were set a ringing,

They had pipes and tobacco, and much jovial singing, Then a toast they all drank, it was a noble thing, The gallant "Duke of Wellington," and sung "God save the King."

When Bonaparte was in flames, how the fire blaz'd The gentlemen laugh'd very much they were so greatly pleas'd;

The ladies at the windows stood, and lifted up the sashes,

And clap'd their hands and all cried out, "burn the rogue to ashes!"

But who can now repeat all the sports of that day, The mirth and the fun, with which the time was pass'd away;

So full was the town, with people great and small, That of all the sights in England, surely Woodbridge beats them all.

VERSES

ON THE

Consecration of the Standard,

PRESENTED BY LADY ROUS

TO THE FIRST TROOP OF

SUFFOLK LOYAL YEOMANRY CAVALRY, Under the Command of Captain Sir John Rous, Bart. at Halesworth, on July 14, 1795.

On Tuesday, July the 14th, 1795, the day appointed for consecrating the colours of the First Troop of Loyal Suffolk Yeomanry at Halesworth, the same was attended by many gentlemen and ladies of rank and fortune, as well as by a numerous concourse of people of all ranks. After leaving church, the gentlemen, belonging to the troop, assembled in a large field adjoining the town, and went through such parts of their exercise, as the vacancy upon the ground would admit of, with much spirit and alacrity. After this they partook of a most excellent dinner, under a handsome salloon, upon the bowling-green at the Angel Inn. The whole concluded with such loyal songs, and constitutional toasts, as became the sons of freedom; and hilarity and good humour was the order of the day. The Standard was presented by Lady Rous.

WHAT host is that from yon proud tower,
Streaming thro' its portal wide?

They own some chieftain's lawless power,
And often bleed to soothe his pride.

Such scenes in distant times the Muse's eye descries,
Whileo'er her slaughter'd sons Britannia deeply sighs.

What tho' the hospitable board,
With rural plenty amply stor'd,
Invited oft' of guests a croud,

To feastings full and revels loud,

The Muse can only see "in ancient Baron's hall
One Lord alone, the rest were vassals all.'
Well pleas'd the change, and glad the eye surveys,
Which every Briton feels in Brunswick's days;
See what a loyal, gallant troop appear !

How the rich Standard proudly beats the air!
In England's cause they freely grasp the sword,
And fight no quarrels now of feudal Lord;
Their king, their country, fill each Briton's breast,
And bid all civil broils and tumults rest;
There fortune, birth, and title grace the ranks,
And think the noblest meed their country's thanks.
Brave Yeomen, know, that gratefully we feel
How much to you we owe domestic weal!
While Britain's navy rivals deeds of yore,
And rides triumphant on the Gallic shore ;
While British seamen hold a matchless course,
And our brave soldiers dread no equal force ;
To you
our laws, our lives, our homes we trust,
And Discord's serpent-heads shall sure be crush'd.
Ingenuous Patriot, thine excursive mind,

That muses every blessing to mankind,
Devis'd this faithful, patriot, mutual band,
And cares for England-England's thanks demand;
A kindred flame all loyal bosoms feel,

Young's patriot thoughts out-ran not Gooch'st zeal.

* Arthur Young, esq. of Bradfield started the first hint of raising the Yeomanry Cavalry, by his proposal for a Horse Militia of property.

Sir Thomas Gooch, Bart. who very early, if not as soon, conceived and communicated the same idea,

Free, loyal Yeomanry, thy country's pride,
Such as no realm on earth can boast beside,
Behold thy standard, gift of Lady fair,

No sordid hands could form a work so rare;
Panthea's self could nought, more prais'd, afford,
When for the fatal field she deck'd her Lord.
Should these fair Banners fly 'midst war's alarms,
And the loud trumpet call your troop to arms,
Remember then, and prove with keen edg'd steel,
For female worth and beauty what you feel;
Remember too, thro' life, the sacred day,
When in the hallow'd place thy standard lay
Devote to God, that he may speed the cause
Of British freedom, property, and laws.
Unless he prosper, human strength must fail,
Tho' clad, like him of Gath, in coat of mail;
From his high will our ev'ry blessing flows,
And courage to defy the fury of our foes.

THE ELVEDON HUNT,

1754:

BY RICHARD GARDINER, ESQ. ALIAS DICK

MERRY-FELLOW,

Of Mount-Amelia, in the Parish of Ingoldisthorp, Norfolk.

Elvedon, a small village, was formerly of some note for the session of certain justices of the peace, who, when the king's commissioners appointed to

Alluding to the story of Panthea and Abradates, in Xenophon.