who were taking a sober stroll along the street; for Gay says, in his "Art of Walking the Streets"

The 'prentice quits his shop to join the crew,
Increasing crowds the flying game pursue.

The football would give no light blow to the skin which was protected only by "stockings of amber-coloured silk," and why a public street should have been selected for the game, when fields were close at hand-even to the Strand-we do not find explained; nor why cricket was played, at the same time, "by the 'prentices in the porches of Covent Garden."

Bowling-allies were also kept up in London, and pretty well attended. We give the copies of two handbills announcing the game of bowls:

"On Thursday next, being the 13th of March, 1718, the bowlinggreens will be opened at the Prospect House, Islington, where there will be accommodation for all gentlemen bowlers."

"May, 1757.—To be bowled for on Monday next, at the Red Cow, in Saint George's Fields, a pair of silver buckles, value fourteen shillings, at five pins, each pin a yard apart. He that brings most pins at three bowls has the buckles, if the money is in; if not, the money each man has put in. Three bowls for sixpence, and a pint of beer out of it for the good of the house.”

The archers of Finsbury contrived long to preserve their ground amidst the spread of bricks and mortar, levelling hedges, filling up ditches, and replacing their marks, in a desperate encounter with innovation and growing enterprise, until 1786, when they were beaten from their fields, which soon became lines of streets and courts. But archery had been on the wane since the eighteenth century began.

The heading of the present chapter will cover, in its application, a subject nearly akin to it, which we shall now proceed to glance at— Public Rejoicings, Fasts, and Festivals.

Zealous Protestants as were our grandsires, with their riots of '80, and "No Popery," they still followed the Popish practice of observing saints' days, and many of the usual festivals of the Romish Church. Business was in a great measure suspended, and places of worship opened on the anniversaries of any of the saints. This day was dedicated to St. Jude -that was sacred to St. Matthew; to-day was the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul-another the Fast of Shrove Tuesday; and most of them, feasts and fasts, saints' days and sinners' days, were holy-days.

And then, besides these spiritual festivals, there were celebrations of worldly and profane events: there was the Martyrdom of King Charles, the Restoration of his son, the Discovery of the Gunpowder Plot-these, too, were holidays.

So numerous and frequent were they, in fact, that, in 1774, it was reckoned that the public offices were closed for holidays at least the eighth part of the year.

Then there was the king's birthday—and the queen's-and the birthdays of their numerous progeny. Then came the days of thanksgiving, when the king had recovered from a sickness, or the queen been delivered of a child. Thanks were returned for every victory during the wars

that were the public business of the last century-in other words, whenever we had slaughtered some thousands of soldiers, or sent a man of war to the bottom of the ocean, such matters were acknowledged by a general thanksgiving. Not content with this, we testified our joy at every victory by other means; guns boomed the glorious intelligence from the Tower wharf-flags streamed from the masts of ships-the liberated schoolboy shouted the songs which had been written for the occasion, with a loud voice and cheerful face-" Gazettes extraordinary" appeared in rapid succession, and were eagerly devoured by the politicians of the coffee-houses-shops were closed, and churches opened. But in the evening was seen the grand climax of the people's joy, when the streets were crowded with noisy thousands, all pouring anxiously to the west end of the town to see "the general illumination." A stranger would have imagined that every inhabitant, rich and poor, participated heartily in the national rejoicing, for every house exhibited its devices of many-coloured lamps, and rows of lighted candles. But there was another powerful and active agent at work to promote this unanimity of purpose, and that was a terror of the mob who had a strong propensity for breaking the windows of such refractory householders as refused to light up" and thus testify their patriotism on so brilliant an occasion. Let us see how an unfortunate Quaker was served, who seemed to have attached no more value to his window-panes than to the event which was to be commemorated. Here is an illumination scene of 1759, as described in the Annual Register of that year:

"June 2.-The populace assaulted the house of an eminent woollendraper in Cornhill, one of the people called Quakers. They pulled up the pavements, and split the window-shutters of his shop with large stones; the smaller pebbles were flung up as high as the third story, the windows of which are much damaged-in the second story not so much as one pane of glass has escaped. The windows of the first story were not touched, being fenced with strong shutters on the outside. The reason of the mob's resentment was his not illuminating his house like the rest of his neighbours."

Very differently did they show their admiration of any grand device or attractive transparency, and long and loud were the cheers which the mob sent forth to greet the ears of those who, in the exuberance of their loyalty, had been thoughtless of expense, and whose houses presented a grand display of lights.

The illuminations on the acquittal of Admiral Keppel by the court-martial by which he was tried in February, 1779, extended throughout the country. We read of hackney-coaches plying through London, illuminated with lanterns-of a grand illumination of the monument-of a fishwoman in Piccadilly, who stuck forty-five candles among her sprats, and was rewarded by a collection of fifty shillings among the mob-of bonfires at many noblemen's seats in the country; in short, the rejoicing was general and extravagant. To equal excess did the indignation of the mob extend among the admiral's accusers. A mob commenced pulling down the house of Sir Hugh Palliser, in Westminster; another mob broke into the house of Lord Sandwich, and demolished the furniture, emptying it through the windows into the street; Lord North's windows

were broken, and the effigies of Lord Hood and Palliser burned on Towerhill and at the Royal Exchange.

The illumination of houses, as a symbol of satisfaction and joy, undoubtedly survived in the present century; but the system of illumination of which we have been speaking, in its general observance and frequent occurrence, as undoubtedly belonged to the last.

We have spoken of smock-races in Pall-mall, football in the Strand, and cricket-playing in Covent Garden, but what will our readers think of bonfires in Fleet-street? Yet on the 5th of November, the popular anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, "Guys" were duly gibbeted and burned in the public thoroughfares. Hogarth gives us one of these scenes beside Temple-bar, where two or three distinct fires may be seen, while a figure in the foreground is rolling a tar-barrel to add to the pile which is to consume the effigy suspended from a gallows above it!

POLPER RO.

BY FLORENTIA.

Saturday, November 7.-We started early in the morning for an excursion to the Land's End, as I was determined not to leave Cornwall without doing justice to its beautiful scenery by exploring all those parts which were by any means attainable. Our road lay through Looe to Liskeard, and as we traversed the river at Looe I could not sufficiently admire the smiling soft beauty of the graceful hanging woods reflected in the broad river at their base as in a vast mirror. Proceeding onwards we turned into the lodge-gate at M—, as I wished to see the home of

my kind friends the B- -s, whom I was prevented visiting by my peculiar position. The park is of considerable length, winding along the banks of a narrow, well wooded valley, through which runs a bubbling rivulet. On ascending an eminence, the house appears an ancient, cosy, warm-looking abode, snugly ensconced between the rising hills, lowroofed, with large windows, overhanging roof, small low doors studded with nails and ironwork, the walls covered with evergreens, and the whole enclosed by gardens and shrubberies; altogether a very pretty specimen of a country-gentleman's seat in the style of Coverley Manor, altogether a place where Sir Roger would have found himself quite at home. To the right, close by, stands the parish church, an honoured looking sanctuary; below is a handsome bridge crossing the rivulet, now grown into a stream; the whole scene-house, valley, church, river, and bridge-forming a sweet peaceful scene, set in a frame of green and undulating hills which entirely shelter it. No wonder that the proprietor should be the gentlest aud the best of human beings, reflecting from the depths of his Christian spirit the calm diffused around his birthplace.

Arrived at Liskeard, we were in anxious expectation of the coach, and

were fortunate in being placed on the outside, where we could command a good view of the country; for, as my sole inducement to travel was a desire to explore, I had no inclination to coop myself up inside, and look at the views through a peep-hole of a window, not to mention distracting headaches, bad smells, and all other concomitant evils of the inside of a mail.

Behold us now exalted on the roof-by my side an elderly gentleman, fresh-coloured and pleasant-looking before us a man who puffed cigars all the way, the wind driving back the smoke straight into my face; by his side the coachman, an individual, both judging from physiognomy and phraseology, much more allied to brutes than men. The gentleman by me, whose name I soon discovered to be Tregellis, appeared on the most intimate terms with all and everybody; he greeted everybody, and everybody greeted him; and I too was soon on friendly terms with him, as, hearing we were strangers, he bowed, and hoped I should allow him to name the country through which we passed; an offer I of course gladly accepted. Certainly no one could have desired a better cicerone, as he had read everything, seen everything, and had withal such an amusing way of imparting his information, that the long day grew short while listening to him. It was clear he was a great character, for we had scarcely proceeded a mile, when, being called upon by the slouching young gentleman who smoked in front to tell some story, he began to relate, in the Cornish dialect, a tale which appeared highly appreciated by his companions, but which, without his excellent mimicry, Cornish brogue, and droll intonation, loses all its zest:

"Two men went out to fish, and saw some large white substance floating on the water; when, after gazing at it in wonder some time, they agreed in the notion that it was a grindstone floating. Having arrived at this wise decision, they determined to clutch the prize; for which purpose one man left the boat, having a rope in tow, intending to bestride this stone and bring it safe to shore. The fool who could imagine that a stone would float, also imagined that he could ride upon it, and having reached it, without more ado sprang upon it, and instantly sank into the sea; the supposed grindstone being neither more nor less than a wooden hoop full of scum. The man in the boat being too far off to hear his companion's exclamation at tumbling into the sea, continued to row, and drag the rope vigorously to shore. Struggling and half-drowned, the first worthy at last got his head above water, and puffing, and swimming, and swearing, screamed out to his fellow to stop, for that the grindstone was nothing but scum-and he was almost drowned. But the other, not hearing what he said, being very wrath at the supposed awkwardness of his comrade, told him to ride away on the stone, or go to the devil if he liked that better. One pulling, the other half-smothered, dragging the hoop and the scum, all arrived on the shore together amid the roars of laughter of their fellows."

This story, related in a very choice brogue, was munching malice to the coachman, who grinned from ear to ear; the little old man by the side of Miss D snorted out also his approval. But mere words can give no idea of the tone and mimicry with which Mr. Tregellis related it -for it was quite inimitable, and I had to draw down my veil and look aside not to laugh outright.

"Funny fellow, that," said the coachman.

"Oh, trust Tregellis for a story," says the smoker.

Ay, ay," says the little old man," he's the man; capital !— capital.'

The people in the back of the coach had also heard, so on we went in a perfect chorus of applause.

The road passed through a charming valley, hills on either side, rising to a height of many hundred feet, covered with thick plantation, broken occasionally by dark masses of rock-a mountain-stream roaring away over the stones below. This lovely scene, where hill after hill curves down gracefully to the valley, continued for many miles, the road winding along-now plunging into deep shade under knotted timeworn oaks -now emerging on the banks of the river, and showing a long perspective of the same scenery. Mr. Tregellis was in ecstasies.

"Here, ladies, look at this; can anything be finer? Say our Cornish scenery is finer than anything in Britain-I affirm it! Where will you exceed such a lovely valley? This, ladies, is Glynn, belonging to Lord Vivian, and there to the right is the house. I am a Cornish man, and such I will live and die; and I can admire my country if others do not value it."

I, of course, warmly assured him of my sincere admiration, and evidently rose thereby tenfold in his esteem.

The house of the Vivians is not equal to the grounds, which I find to be often the case in Cornwall. It is situated on a high bank overlooking the road; on one side appears a fine terrace, commanding an extensive view. The road now took a sudden turn over a bridge ascending a hill opposite, where the valley gradually narrowed, but still retained its general features of beauty. The gardens and lodge lay beneath us, the former winding most picturesquely along each side of a hill.

We soon reached an open barren country covered with heath, the view only relieved from monotony by some lofty barren hills opposite, which sinking down abruptly towards the plain, reminded me strongly of the aspect of Scotch scenery. But my attention was arrested by a loud conversation between Mr. Tregellis and the coachman, and I was a little vexed to find this personage could be quite as vulgar to the vulgar as he was polished in his manner to me; in fact, the man was a perfect paradox. He had offended the coachman by saying to the smoker, who had continued unceasingly to puff (every now and then favouring me with a lapful of cigar ashes)" Simmonds, the coachman, wanted to be very civil the other day, and having a pigeon in his pocket he did not know what to do with, being at least a week old, gave it to me for a present; but when he found I did not pay him enough for his driving he took it back again. Eh, eh, Simmonds ?"

No," growled the coachman," it isn't true-'twas as fresh a bird as ever flew-I don't want your money, I only care for your patronage.” Upon this they began bantering each other in Cornish, and the conversation ended by terrific whistling from Simmonds-enough to raise the dead-out of a small whistle, in imitation, I presume, of the railway.

Mr. Tregellis, thinking (as was the case) that I should be shocked, turned to me: "The coachman, ma'am," said he, " is a bit of a wag, and we indulge him a little by way of amusing ourselves; not that he