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the tare threw herself into my arms, 'for t the pleasing horrors of

"As an affair of mere breath, there is something tangible in a London fog. In the evanescent air of Italy, a man might as well not breathe at all, for any thing he knows of the matter. But in a wellmixed metropolitan fog, there is something substantial and satisfying. You can feel what you breathe, and see it too. It is like breathing water,—as we may suppose the fishes to do. And then the taste of it, when dashed with a due seasoning of seacoal smoke, is far from insipid. It is also meat and drink at the same time: between egg-flip and omeUtte ut much more digestible than Not that I would recommend it medicinally, especially to persons of queasy stomachs, delicate nerves, and afflicted with bile. But for persons of a good robust habit of body, and not dainty withal, (which such, by the by, never are,) there is nothing better in its way. And it wraps you all round like a cloak, too—a patent water-proof one, which no rain ever penetrated. No—I maintain that a real London fog is a thing not to be sneezed at— if you help it. Mem. As many spurious imitations of the above are abroad,—such as Scotch mists, and the like,—which are no less deleterious ("

disagreeable,— please to ask for the 'true London particular,' — as manufactured by Thames, Coalgas, Smoke, Steam, & Co. No others are genuine."

Waterproof Boots and Shoes.

Take one pound of drying (boiled linseed) oil, two ounces of yellow wax, two ounces of spirits of turpentine, and one of Burgundy pitch, melted carefully over a slow fire. With this composition new shoes and boots are to be rubbed in the sun, or at a distance from the fire, with a small bit of sponge, as often as they become dry, until they are fully saturated; the leather then is impervious to wet, the shoes and boots last much longer, acquire softness and pliability, and thus prepared, are the most effectual preservatives against cold.

A Notable Woman- r.

On the S4th of November, 1735, a butcher near ltumford, in Essex, was rode up to by a women well mounted on

a'side saddle, who, to his astonishment, presented a pistol, and demanded his money. In amazement be asked ha what she meant, and received his answer from a genteel looking man, who rang to him on horseback, said he was a brute to deny the lady's request, and enforced this conviction by telling him that if he did not gratify her desire immediatelyhe would shoot him through the head. The butcher could not resist an invitation to be gallant, when supported by such arguments, and he placed six guineas and his watch in her hands."


Starry Stapelia. Stapelia radiata. Dedicated to St. John of the Crm


St. Catharine. 3d Cent. St. Brtmm,"

at Catftarfnr.

This saint is in the church of England calendar, and the almanacs. It is doubtful whether she ever existed; yet in mass- books and breviaries, we find her prayed to and honoured by hymns, with stones of her miracles so wonderfully apocryphil that even cardinal Baronius blushes for the threadbare legends. In Allan Butler's memoirs of this saint, it may be discovered by a scrutinizing eye, that while her popularity seems to force him to relate particulars concerning her, he leai« himself room to disavow them; hot this is hardly fair, for the great body of readers of his " Lives of the Saints," are too confiding to criticise hidden meanings. "From this martyr's uncommon erudition," he says, "and the extraordinary spirit of piety by which she sanctified her learning, and the use she made of it, she is chosen, in the schools, the patroness and model of christian philosophers.' According to his authorities she was beheaded under the emperor Maxenlius,« Maximinus II. He adds, " She is said first to have been put upon an entire made of four wheels joined together, and stuck with sharp pointed spikes, that when the wheels were moved her balr might be torn to pieces. The acts add, that at the first stirring of the terrible engine, the cords with which the martyr


was tied, were broke asunder by the invisible power of an angel, and, the engine falling to pieces by the wheels being separated from one another, she was delivered from that death. Hence, the name of « St. Catharine's wheel."

The Catharine-wheel, a sign in the Borough, and at other inns and public houses, and the Catharine-wheel in fireworks, testify this saint's notoriety in England. Besides pictures and engravings representing her pretended marriage with Christ, others, which are more numerous, represent her with her wheel. She was, in common with other papal saints, also painted in churches, and there is still a very fine, though somewhat mutilated, painting of her, on the glass window in the chancel of the church of West Wickham, a village delightfully situated in Kent, between Bromley and Croydon. The editor of the Every-Day Book went thither, and took a tracing from the window itself, and now presents an engraving from that tracing, under the expectation that, as an ornament, it may be acceptable to all, and, as perpetuating a relic of antiquity, be still more acceptable to a few. The figure under St Catharine's feet "is the tyrant Maxentius. In this church there are other fine and perfect remains of the beautifully painted glass which anciently adorned it. A coach leaves the Ship, at Charing-cross, every afternoon for the Swan, at West Wickham, which is kept by Mr. Crittel, who can give a visitor a good bed, good cheer, and good information, and if need be, put a good horse into a good stable. A short and pleasant walk of a mile to the church the next morning will be gratifying in many ways. The village is one of the most retired and agreeable spots in the vicinity of the metropolis. It is not yet deformed by building speculations.

St. Catharine's Day.

Old Barnaby Googe, from Naogeorgus, says—

"What'thould I tell what sophisters
on Cathrins day devise?

Or else the superstitious toyes

that maisters exercise."

Anciently women and girls in Wand kept a fast every Wednesday and Saturday throughout the year, and some of them also on St. Catharine i day; nor would they omit it though it happened on their birthday, or they were ever so ill. The reason given for it was that the girls might get good husbands, and the women better ones, either by the death, desertion, or reformation of their living ones.'

St. Catharine was esteemed the' saint and patroness of spinsters, and her holiday observed by young women meelin; on this day, and making merry together, which they call " Cathar'ning."t Something of this still remains in remote par:> of England.

Our correspondent R. R. (in November, 1825,) says, "On the 25th of November, St. Catharine's day, a mm dressed in woman's clothes, with a large wheel by his side, to represent St. Catherine, was brought out of the royal arsenal at Woolwich, (by the workmen of that place,) about six o'clock in the evening seated in a large wooden chair, and carried by men round the town, with attendants, &c. similar to St. Clement's. They stopped at different houses, where the; used to recite a speech; but this ceremony has been discontinued these eight or nine years."

Much might be said and contemplate in addition to the notice already taken of the demolition of the church of St Catharine's, near the Tower. Its destnicuin has commenced, is proceeding, and t" be completed in a short time. The render of this edifice will, in the ffli become a precedent for a spoliation imagined by very few on the day when k utters this foreboding.

25th of November, 1825.


Sweet Butter-bur. Tuerilago fngn*1 Dedicated to tn. Catharine.

^obemfcer 26.

St. Peter, Martyr, Bp. of Alexandria, A. D. 311 .St.Nicon, surnamedAfefanoifc, A.d. 998. St. Syhetter Gozzolini, A. D. 1367. St. Conrad, Bp. of Constance, A. D. 976.

A New Moon Custom, and " more but words" respecting Captain Starkey. To the Editor of the Every-Day Booh. Sir,

. I'do not remember to have seen in your book, " where every-day we turn the leaf to read," any notice of a custom, which is not only very prevalent, but which is, also, most harmless in its nature and endearing in its tendency—promotes in its practice goodwill and good humour—and, not unfrequently, with those who view the " future i' th' instant," love itself. Among the many new moon customs, such as looking through a new silk handkerchief to ascertuin the number of your lovers, feeling for money in your pocket, to see if you will have a lucky month, &C. ; I know of none so pleasant, or, to my thinking, so rational, as that of claiming the First Kiss For A Pair Of New Gloves! The person, in a company, male or female, who first gets a glimpse of the new moon, immediately kisses some member of the company, and pronounces with a triumphant chuckle, ■ Aha! Jane, (or as the name may be,) there's a pair of gloves for me!" By this means a pleasant interruption is often given to a tedious tale, or uninteresting debate, and a new subject starts, in which all may join with greater or less avidity. How happy is some modest youth, should the blushing and ingenuous girl, whom he has secretly "singled from the world," have laid him under the penalty of a pair of new gloves, by that soft phrase and that first delicious kiss—how fruitful are his sweet anticipations of that golden time— "When life is all one dream of love and flowers."

How joyful is an amiable 'sister, if, by this 'species of initiation, she has been enabled to re-conciliate the vagrant affections of some estranged brother: and even where love and sisterly feelings are out of the question, viewed as an interchange of common (common!) friendship, between the sexes, how felicitous is

it in effect and operation I Should you, Mr. Editor, be of opinion with me, respecting this no longer " tyrant custom," you may, possibly, by printing this letter, be productive of much good humour, and a pair of new gloves.

I am,

Your constant and approving reader,"
W. G. T.'

Netocattle-on- Tyne.

P. S. I] cannot write the name of the town where I reside, without feeling a strong inducement to say one word of him, who has been so pleasantly immortalized by yourself, and" the inimitable being who wrote so affectingly of " Rosamund Gray," and the "Old Familiar Faces"—I mean poor Starkey. I was born,' and have lived all my life (not a long one), in the town where he terminated his humble career, and gave another name to the (neglected and un

Eitied list of those, who seem chiefly to save entered the world for the purpose of swelling "The short and simple annals 'of the poor,"

and my earliest recollections are haunted by his meagre care-worn form;—many a time have I shrunk from the shaking of his stick, and the imperious "dem your bluds," which he bestowed with uncommon celerity on the defenceless heads of his young and unthinking sources of annoyance, as they assailed him from the corners which he was accustomed to pass. But the captain was a humble man, and these " moods of the mind" were seldom indulged in, save when he was returning, brim-full of brief and intemperate importance, from the Black Horse, in Pilgrim-street, the tap-room of which was the scene of many a learned disputation with the "unwashed artificers" of the evening, and in which the captain was always proportionably brilliant to the number of girls he had drank. On these occasions, in his efforts to silence the sons of toil, he did not scruple to use his Latin—and, in such instances, appeal was impossible, and victory sure. Among several anecdotes, I am in possession of two, which you, his most celebrious biographer, may not think unworthy of recording. On one evening, when he was returning from a carousal, furnished by the generosity of friends, or his own indiscretion—for the captain despised to-morrow as much as

any man, and was fully convinced of the propriety of the apophthegm, " sufficient unto the day is its own evil''—he found the gate of the Freemen's Hospital, where he resided, closed, and no one in a better condition for exclaiming with Dr. Beattie,

"Ah! who* can tell how hard it is to climb!"

than himself. What was to be done 1 To fly over was impossible—and he was'much too deep in the scale of intoxication to

members for the town, and the butler, who was well aware of the object of his guests, treated them handsomely in his refectory to cold beef and good ale. He was accidentally called away, and the two friends were left alone. Alas! for the temptations which continually beset us'. The " expedition of the captain's "violent love outran the pauscr, regson:" he suggested, and both adopted, the expedient of secreting a slice or two of the member's beef, to make more substantial the repast of the evening.

dream of scaling the wall. A party of Starkey's share was deposited in his hat.

young bucks, " ripe for fun," fresh from their sacrifices at the shrine of " the reeling goddess with the zoneless waist," came up the street; to these, hat in hand, did the captain prefer his petition to be assisted over, and they, with a thoughtlessness hardly to be excused by their condition, took him up, and threw

The man in office returned, pressed his visiters afresh, "and still the circling cup was drained," until the homebrewed had made considerable innovations, and the travellers thought it fitting to depart. The captains habitual politeness was an overmatch for bis cunning: whilst he was yet at the door.

him completely on to the grass plot on casting his ""last lingering looks behind;

he must needs take off his hat to give more effect to the fervour of his farewellwhen—" out upon V—the beef fell as flat on his oration, as did the hat of corporal Trim on the floor in the scene of his eloquence. Starkey was dumb-founded, his associate was in agonies, and the"butler was convulsed with the most" sidesplitting" laughter. The captain, like other great men, has not fallen "unsung." Hearken to Gilchrist, one of the "bards of the Tyne," who thus sings in

i 1----:- -t r>._; ;„ «„rV„

the other side. The veteran scrambled to his legs, and, for the wall was not very high on the inside, returned them thanks in his best manner for their timely assistance, utterly forgetful that it might have proved most disastrous both to himself and them. The second, and with which I must conclude a postscript which has already far outgrown the letter, was less harmless and equally illustrative of the man. He had gone, with another eleemosynary worthy, on some gratula

tory occasion, to the hall of one of the his apotheosis of Benjamin Starkey


"His game is up, his pipe is out, an' fairly laid his craw.
His fame 'ill blaw about just like coal dust at Shiney-Raw.
He surely was a joker rare—what times there'd been for a' the
Had he but lived to be a mayor, the glory o' wor corporation!

"Whack, &c."

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