The name of Busby !—not the musical doctor, but a late magisterial doctor of Westminster school-celebrated for severe discipline, is a "word of fear" to all living who know his fame! It is perpetuated by an engraved representation of his chair, said to have been designed by sir Peter Lily, and presented by that artist to king Charles II. The arms, and each arm, are appalling; and the import of the other devices are, or ought to be, known by every tyro. Every prudent person lays in stores before they are wanted, and Dr. Busby's chair may as well be "in the house" on Twelfth-day as on any other; not as a mirth-spoiler, but as a subject which we know to-day that we have "by us," whereon to inquire and discuss at a more convenient season. Dr. Busby was a severe, but not an ill-natured man. It is related of him and one of his scholars, that during the doctor's absence from his study, the boy found some plums in it, and being moved by lickerishness, began to eat some; first, however, he waggishly cried out, "I publish the banns of matrimony between my mouth and these plums; if any here present know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it, or hereafter hold your peace;" and then he ate. But the doctor had overheard the proclamation, and said nothing till the next morning, when causing the boy to be "brought up," and disposed for punishment, he grasped the well-known instrument, and said, "I publish the banns of matrimony between this rod and this boy: if any of you know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it."-The boy himself called out, "I forbid the banns!" what cause?" inquired the doctor. "Because," said the boy, "the parties are not agreed!" The doctor enjoyed the validity of the objection urged by the boy's wit, and the ceremony was not performed. This is an instance of Dr. Busby's admiration of talent: and let us hope, in behalf of its seasonableness here, that it was at Christmas time.

The King drinks.

"For

We recur once more to this subject, for the sake of remarking that there is an account of a certain curate, "who having taken his preparations over evening, when all men cry (as the manner is) The king drinketh, chanting his masse the next

morning, fell asleep in his memento; and when he awoke, added, with a loud voice, The king drinketh." This mal-apropos exclamation must have proceeded from a foreign ecclesiastic: we have no account of the ceremony to which it refers having prevailed in merry England.

66

An excellent pen-and-ink picture of old Froissart, the French chronicler, as Merry England”* represents honest saying of some English in his time, that fashion of their country;" whereon the "they amused themselves sadly after the portrayer, of Merry England observes, Their mirth is a relaxation from gravity, "They have indeed a way of their own. a challenge to 'Dull Care' to 'be gone;' and one is not always clear at first, whether the appeal is successful. The cloud may still hang on the brow; the ice may their new character is an act of charity. not thaw at once. To help them out in Any thing short of hanging or drowning is something to begin with. They do not

enter into their amusements the less They like a thing the better for hitting doggedly because they may plague others. them arap on the knuckles, for making their blood tingle.

hair

sing, but they make good cheer—“ eat, They do not dance or drink, and are merry. No people are fonder of field-sports, Christmas gambols, hunt-the-slipper, hot-cockles, and snapor practical jests. Blindman's buff, dragon, are all approved English games, full of laughable surprises and breadth 'scapes,' and serve to amuse the winter fireside after the roast beef and plum-pudding, the spiced ale and roasted crab, thrown (hissing-hot) into the foamthe puppet) is not, I fear, of English oriing tankard. Punch (not the liquor, but gin; but there is no place, I take it, where he finds himself more at home or meets a more joyous welcome, where he collects greater crowds at the corners of streets, cheeks wider, or where the bangs and where he opens the eyes or distends the blows, the uncouth gestures, ridiculous anger and screaming voice of the chief performer excite more boundless merriment or louder bursts of laughter among all ranks and sorts of people. An English theatre is the very throne of pantomime; nor do I believe that the gallery and boxes of Drury-lane or Covent-gar

* In the New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 1825

den filled on the proper occasions with holiday folks (big or little) yield the palm for undisguised, tumultuous, inextinguish able laughter to any spot in Europe. I do not speak of the refinement of the mirth (this is no fastidious speculation) but of its cordiality, on the return of these long-looked-for and licensed periods; and I may add here, by way of illustration, that the English ccmmon people are a sort of grown children, spoiled and sulky, perhaps, but full of glee and merriment, when their attention is drawn off by some sudden and striking object.

"The comfort, on which the English lay so much stress, arises from the same source as their mirth. Both exist by contrast and a sort of contradiction. The English are certainly the most uncomfortable of all people in themselves, and therefore it is that they stand in need of every kind of comfort and accommodation. The least thing puts them out of their way, and therefore every thing must be in its place. They are mightily of fended at disagreeable tastes and smells, and therefore they exact the utmost neatness and nicety. They are sensible of heat and cold, and therefore they cannot exist, unless every thing is snug and warm, or else open and airy, where they are. They must have all appliances and means to boot.' They are afraid of interruption and intrusion, and therefore they shut themselves up in in-door enjoyments and by their own firesides. It is not that they require luxuries (for that implies a high degree of epicurean indulgence and gratification,) but they cannot do without their comforts; that is, whatever tends to supply their physical wants, and ward off physical pain and annoyance. As they have not a fund of animal spirits and enjoyments in themselves, they cling to external objects for support, and derive solid satisfaction from the ideas of order, cleanliness, plenty, property, and domestic quiet, as they seek for diversion from odd accidents and grotesque surprises, and have the highest possible relish not of voluptuous softness, but of hard knocks and dry blows, as one means of ascertaining their personal identity."

Twelfth-day, in the times of chivalry, was observed at the court of England by grand entertainments and tournaments. The justings were continued till a period little favourable to such sports,

In the reign of James I., when his son

prince Henry was in the 16th year of his age, and therefore arrived to the period for claiming the principality of Wales and the duchy of Cornwall, it was granted to him by the king and the high court of parliament, and the 4th of June following appointed for his investiture: "the Christmas before which," sir Charles Cornwallis says, "his highnesse, not onely for his owne recreation, but also that the world might know what a brave prince they were likely to enjoy, under the name of Meliades, lord of the isles, (an ancient title due to the first-borne of Scotland,) did, in his name, by some appointed for the same purpose, strangely attired, accompanied with drummes and trumpets, in the presence, before the king and queene, and in the presence of the whole court, deliver a challenge to all knights of Great Britaine." The challenge was to this effect, "That Meliades, their noble master, burning with an earnest desire to trie the valour of his young yeares in foraigne countryes, and to know where vertue triumphed most, had sent them abroad to espy the same, who, after their long travailes in all countreyes, and returne," had nowhere discovered it, in the fortunate isle of Great Britaine : which ministring matter of exceeding joy to their young Meliades, who as they said) could lineally derive his pedegree from the famous knights of this isle, was the cause that he had now sent to present the first fruits of his chivalrie at his majesties' feete; then after returning with a short speech to her majestie, next to the earles, lords, and knights, excusing their lord in this their so sudden and short warning, and lastly, to the ladies; they, after humble delivery of their chartle concerning time, place, conditions, number of weapons and assailants, tooke their leave, departing solemnly as they entered."

save

Then preparations began to be made for this great fight, and each was happy who found himself admitted for a defendant, much more an assailant. "At last to encounter his highness, six assailants, and fifty-eight defendants, consisting of earles, barons, knights, and esquires, were appointed and chosen; eight defendants to one assailant, every assailant being to fight by turnes eight severall times fighting, two every time with push and pike of sword, twelve strokes at a time; after which, the barre for separation was to be

let downe until a fresh onset." The suinmons ran in these words:

To heighten the festivities of Christmas, 1825, the good folks of " London and its environs" were invited to Sadler's Wells, by the following whimsical notice, printed and distributed as a handbill

"SOVEREIGNS WILL BE TAKEN, during the Christmas holidays, and as long as any body will bring them to SADLER'S WELLS; nay so little fastidious are the Proprietors of that delectable fascinating snuggery, that, however incredible it may appear, they, in some cases, have actually had the liberality to prefer Gold to Paper. Without attempting to investigate their motives for such extraordinary conduct, we shall do them the justice to say, they certainly give an amazing quantum o amusement, All in One Night, at the HOUSE ON THE HEATH, where, besides the THREE CRUMPIES, AND THE BARON AND HIS BROTHERS, an immense number of fashionables are expected on MERLIN'S MOUNT, and some of the first Cambrian families will countenance HARLEQUIN CYMRAEG, in hopes to partake of the Living Leek, which being served up the last thing before supper, will constitute a most excellent Christmas carminative, preventing the effects of night air on the crowds who will adorn this darling little edifice. In addition to a most effective LIGHT COM

PANY engaged here, a very respectably sized Moon will be in attendance to light home a greater number of Patrons than ever this popular petted Palace of Pantomime is likely to produce. We say nothing of warmth and comfort, acquired by recent improvements, because these matters will soon be subjects of common conversation, and omit noticing the happiness of lialf-price, and the cheering qualities of the Wine-room, fearful of wounding in the bosom of the Manager that innate modesty which is ever the concomitant of merit; we shall therefore conclude, by way of invitation to the dubious, in the language of an elegant writer, by asserting that the Proof of the Pud ding is in-VERBUM SAT."

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature - - - 37 · 12.

January 7.

1826. Distaff's Day.*

STANZAS ON THE NEW YEAR.

I stood between the meeting years,
The coming and the past,
And I ask'd of the future one,

Wilt thou be like the last?

The same in many a sleepless night,
Thank Heaven! I have no prophet's eye
In many an anxious day?
To look upon thy way!

For Sorrow like a phantom sits
Upon the last Year's close.
How much of grief, how much of ill,
In its dark breast repose!
Shadows of faded Hopes flit by,

And ghosts of Pleasures fled :
How have they chang'd from what they

were !

Perhaps 'twas but a careless word

That sever'd Friendship's chain; And angry Pride stands by each gap, Lest they unite again.

Less sad, albeit more terrible,

To think upon the dead, Who quiet in the lonely grave

Lay down their weary head.

For faith and hope, and peace, and trust,
Are with their happier lot:
Though broken is their bond of love,

At least we broke it not.

Thus thinking of the meeting years,
The coming and the past,

I needs must ask the future one,
Wilt thou be like the last?

*See vol. i. p. 61

1826. First Sunday after Epiphany. CHRONOLOGY.

On the 8th of January, 1753, died sir Thomas Burnet, one of the judges of the court of Common Pleas, of the gout in his stomach, at his house in Lincoln's-inn fields. He was the eldest son of the celebrated Dr. Gilbert Burnet, bishop of Salisbury; was several years consul at Lisbon; and in November, 1741, made one of the judges of the Common Pleas, in room of judge Fortescue, who was appointed master of the rolls. On November 23, 1745, when the lord chancellor, judges, and association of the gentlemen of the law, waited on his majesty with their address, on occasion of the rebellion, he was knighted. He was an able and upright judge, and a great benefactor to the poor.†

MONEY AND THE MOON.

Gentle reader,

If thou art not over-much prejudiced by the advances of modernization, (I like a long new-coined word,) so that, even in these "latter days," thou dost not hesitate to place explicit reliance on ancient, yet infallible" sayings and doings," (ancient enough, since they have been handed down to us by our grandmothers-and who would doubt the weight and authority of so many years?-and infallible enough, since they themselves absolutely believed in their "quite-correctness,") I will tell thee a secret well worth knowing, if that can be called a secret which arises out of a well-known and almost universal custom, at least, in "days of yore." It is neither more nor less than the possession throughout "the rolling year" of a pocket never without money. Is not this indeed a secret well worth knowing? Yet the means of its accomplishment are exceedingly simple (as all difficult things are when once known.) On the first day of the first new moon of the new year, or so soon afterwards as you observe it, all that you have to do is this:-on the first glance you take at "pale Luna's silvery crest" in the western sky, put your hand in your pocket, shut your eyes, and turn the smallest piece of silver coin you possess upside down in your said pocket. This will ensure you (if you will but trust its infallibility!) throughout the whole year that "summum bonum" of earthly wishes, a pocket never empty. If, however, you neglect, on the first appearance of the moon, your case is hopeless; nevertheless and notwithstanding, at a future. new moon you may pursue the same course, and it will be sure to hold good during the then current month, but not a "whit" longer.

This mention of the new moon and its crest brings to mind a few verses I wrote some time ago, and having searched my scrap-book, (undoubtedly not such a one as Geoffery Crayon's,) I copied them from thence, and they are here under. Although written in the 66 merry merry month of May," they may be read in the "dreary dark December," for every new moon presents the same beautiful phenomenon.