this practice, we have already stated in our mention of “ hodening,”—and our readers will see that its object, like that of the other similar observances of this season, was charity.

In some parts of the north of England, a custom exists, to the present time, which appears to be composed of the ancient Roman sword-dance—or, perhaps, the sword-dance of the northern nations —and lingering traces of the obsolete “ Festival of Fools.” This practice, which is called the "Fool Plough," consists in a pageant composed of "a number of sword-dancers, dragging a plough, with music, and one, sometimes two, in very strange attire ;—the Bessy, in the grotesque habit of an old woman,—and the fool, almost covered with skins, a hairy cap on, and the tail of some animal hanging from his back. The office of one of these characters, in which he is very assiduous, is to go about, rattling a box amongst the spectators of the dance, in which he receives their little donations." Our readers will probably remember that a set of these mummers are introduced by Washington Irving, in his account of a Christmas spent in Yorkshire.

The old Christmas play of St. George and the Dragon is, still, amongst the popular amusements of this season, in many parts of England. Whether this particular kind of performance is to be considered as dating from the return of the Crusaders,—or that similar representations had existed previously, the characters of which alone were changed by that event, does not appear, from any other remains that have reached us. There is evidence, however, that plays founded upon the legend of St. George, are of a very remote date; and, in all probability, they were introduced not long after the age of the Crusades. From various contributors to Mr. Hone's "Every Day Book," we learn that versions of these plays are still performed, amongst the lower orders, at the Christmas tide, in the extreme western counties of England,―as also in Cumberland, and some others of the more northern ones :-and one of those correspondents, dating from Falkirk, gives an account of a play still performed by the Guisars, in some parts of Scotland, which is of similar construction, and evidently borrowed from the same source; but in which one Galgacus is substituted for St. George, as the hero of the piece,-and the drama is made, by that substitution, to commemorate the suc

cessful battle of the Grampians, by the Scots, under that leader, against the invader Agricola. If Mr. Reddock be right in this opinion, Agricola is, for the nonce, elevated to the title of King of Macedon. The party who carries the bag for these mummers is a very questionable trustee,-being no other than Judas Iscariot. Sir Walter Scott, in his notes to Marmion, speaks of the same play, as one in which he and his companions were in the habit of taking parts, when boys; and mentions the characters of the old Scripture-pays having got mixed up with it, in the version familiar to him. He enumerates St. Peter, who carried the keys,-St. Paul, who was armed with a sword, and Judas, who had the bag, for contributions; and says that he believes there was also a St. George. It is not unlikely there might, though he is not mentioned by Mr. Reddock,-for the confusion of characters, in all these versions, is very great. In the Whitehaven edition, St. George is son to the King of Egypt, and the hero who carries all before him is Alexander. He conquers St. George and kills the King of Egypt. In fact, the legend, as it exists in the old romance of "Sir Bevys of Hampton," has everywhere been mixed up with extraneous matter; and scarcely any two sets of performers render it alike. The plot seems, in all, to be pretty nearly the same; and the doctor, with his marvellous cures and empirical gibberish, seems to be common to them all. "But so little," says Sandys, "do the actors know the history of their own drama, that sometimes General Wolfe is introduced, who first fights St. George, and then sings a song about his own death. I have also seen the Duke of Wellington represented." Mr. Reddock mentions that, during the war with France, one of the characters in his version "was made to say that he had been 'fighting the French,' and that the loon who took leg-bail was no less a personage than" the great Napoleon. Mr. Sandys mentions that, occasionally, there is a sort of anti-masque, or burlesque (if burlesque itself can be burlesqued) at the end of the performance; when some comic characters enter, called Hub Bub, Old Squire, &c. and the piece concludes with a dance.-At other times, the performances are wound up by a song.

We may mention that we have in our possession an Irish version of the same play, as it is still played by the boys in that

country in which version, as might be expected, the Championship is given to St. Patrick, who asserts that St. George was nothing more than “St. Patrick's boy," and fed his horses. Another of the characters in this edition of the story is Oliver Cromwell,-who, after certain grandiloquent boastings (amongst others, that he had “conquered many notions with his copper nose"), calls upon no less a personage than Beelzebub, to step in, and confirm his assertions.

The costume and accoutrements of these mummers appear to be pretty generally of the same kind,—and, for the most part, to resemble those of morris-dancers. They are thus correctly described by Mr. Sandys. St. George, and the other tragic performers, wear "white trowsers and waistcoats, showing their shirt-sleeves, and are much decorated with ribbons and handkerchiefs,—each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of pasteboard, covered with fancy paper, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass, bugles, &c.,-several long strips of pith generally hanging down from the top, with shreds of different colored cloth strung on them,—the whole having a fanciful and smart effect. The Turk, sometimes, has a turban. Father Christmas is personified as a grotesque old man, wearing a large mask and wig, with a huge club in his hand. The doctor,-who is a sort of merry-andrew to the piece,—is dressed in some ridiculous way, with a three-cornered hat and painted face. The female, when there is one, is in the costume of her great-grandmother. The hobby-horse, when introduced, has a sort of representation of a horse's hide; but the dragon and the giant, when there is one, frequently appear with the same style of dress as the knights."

We will present our readers with the version of this old drama given by Mr. Sandys, as still performed in Cornwall. Elsewhere, we have met with some slight variations upon even this Cornwall piece; but will be content to print it, as we find it in the collection in question. Our Lancashire readers will at once recognize its close resemblance to the play performed in that county, about the time of Easter, by the Peace-eggers, or Paste-eggers-of whom we shall speak, in their proper place, in a future volume.

"Enter the Turkish Knight.

Open your doors, and let me in,
I hope your favors I shall win;
Whether I rise or whether I fall,
I'll do my best to please you all.

St. George is here, and swears he will come in,
And if he does, I know he'll pierce my skin.

If you will not believe what I do say,

Let Father Christmas come in-clear the way!

[Retires.

Enter Father Christmas.

Here come I, old Father Christmas,
Welcome, or welcome not,

I hope old Father Christmas
Will never be forgot.

I am not come here to laugh or to jeer,

But for a pocketful of money, and a skinful of beer.
If you will not believe what I do say,
Come in the King of Egypt-clear the way!

Enter the King of Egypt

Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly do appear,

St. George! St. George! walk in, my only son and heir!
Walk in, my son, St. George, and boldly act thy part,
That all the people here may see thy wond'rous art.

Enter St. George.

Here come I, St. George, from Britain did I spring,
I'll fight the Dragon bold, my wonders to begin.
I'll clip his wings, he shall not fly;

I'll cut him down, or else I die.

Enter the Dragon.

Who's he that seeks the Dragon's blood,

And calls so angry, and so loud?

That English dog, will he before me stand?

I'll cut him down with my courageous hand.

With my long teeth and scurvy jaw,

Of such I'd break up half a score,

And stay my stomach, till I'd more.

[St. George and the Dragon fight,—the latter is killed

Father Christmas

Is there a doctor to be found

All ready, near at hand,

Saint George.

Here am I, St. George,

That worthy champion bold!

And with my sword and spear

I won three crowns of gold!

I fought the fiery dragon,

And brought him to the slaughter:

By that I won fair Sabra,

The King of Egypt's daughter.

Where is the man, that now me will defy?

I'll cut his giblets full of holes, and make his buttons fly.

The Turkish Knight advances.

Here come I, the Turkish Knight,
Here come the Turkish land to fight!
I'll fight Saint George, who is my foe,
I'll make him yield, before I go;

He brags to such a high degree,

He thinks there's none can do the like of he.