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towards the sepulchre, with downcast looks, said together this verse, "Who will remove the stone for us?" Upon this a boy, clothed like an angel, in albs, and holding a wheat ear in his hand, before the sepulchre, said, " Whom do you seek in the sepulchre?" The Maries answered, "Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified." The boy-angel answered, "He is not here, but is risen ;" and pointed to the place with his finger. The boy-angel departed very quickly, and two priests in tunics, sitting without the sepulchre, said, "Woman, whom do ye mourn for? Whom do ye seek?" The middle one of the women said, “Sir, if you have taken him away, say so." The priest, showing the cross, said, "They have taken away the Lord." The two sitting priests said, “ Whom do ye seek, women?" The Maries, kissing the place, afterwards went from the sepulchre. In the mean time a priest, in the character of Christ, in an alb, with a stole, holding a cross, met them on the left horn of the altar, and said, " Mary !" Upon hearing this, the mock Mary threw herself at his feet, and, with a loud voice, cried Cabboin. The priest representing Christ replied, nodding, "Noli me tangere," touch me not. This being finished, he again appeared at the right horn of the altar, and said to them as they passed before the altar, "Hail! do not fear." This being finished, he concealed himself; and the women-priests, as though joyful at hearing this, bowed to the altar, and turning to the choir, sung“ Alleluia, the Lord is risen." This was the signal for the bishop or priest before the altar, with the censer, to begin and sing aloud, Te Deum.*

The making of the sepulchre was a practice founded upon ancient tradition, that the second coming of Christ would be on Easter-eve; and sepulchre-making, and watching it, remained in England till the reformation. Its ceremonies varied in different places. In the abbey church of Durham it was part of the service upon Easter-day, betwixt three and four o'clock in the morning, for two of the eldest monks of the quire to come to the sepulchre, set up upon Good Friday after the Passion, which being covered with red velvet, and embroidered with gold, these monks, with a pair of silver censers, censed the sepulchre on their knees. Then both rising, went to the

• Fosbroke's Brit. Monach. from Du Cange,

sepulchre, out of which they took a marvellous beautiful image of the resurrection, with a cross in the hand of the image of Christ, in the breast whereof was inclosed, in bright crystal, the host, so as to be conspicuous to the beholders. Then, after the elevation of the said picture, it was carried by the said two monks, upon a velvet embroidered cushion, the monks singing the anthem of Christus resurgens. They then brought it to the high altar, setting it on the midst thereof, and the two monks kneeling before the altar, censed it all the time that the rest of the quire were singing the anthem, which being ended, the two monks took up the cushion and picture from the altar, supporting it betwixt them, and proceeded in procession from the high altar to the south quire door, where there were four ancient gentlemen belonging to the quire, appointed to attend their coming, holding up a rich canopy of purple velvet, tasselled round about with red silk and gold fringe; and then the canopy was borne by these "ancient gentlemen," over the said images with the host carried by the two monks round about the church, the whole quire following, with torches and great store of other lights; all singing, rejoicing, and praying, till they came to the high altar again; upon which they placed the said image, there to remain till Ascension-day, when another ceremony was used.

In Brand's "Antiquities," and other works, there are many items of expenses from the accounts of different churchbooks for making the sepulchre for this Easter ceremony. The old Register Book of the brethren of the Holy Trinity of St. Botolph without Aldersgate, now in the possession of the editor of the Every-Day Book, contains the following entries concerning the sepulchre in that church :"Item, to the wexchaundeler, for makyng of the Sepulcre light i times, and of other dyvers lights that longyn to the trynite, in dyvers places in the chirche, lvii. 10d." In An. 17 Henry VI. there is another "Item, for xiii tapers unto the lyght about the Sepulcre, agenst the fleste of Estern, weying lxxviii lb. of the wich was wasted xxii lb." &c. In Ann. 21 & 22 K. Henry VI. the fraternity paid for wax and for lighting of the sepulchre "both yers, xx. viii." and they gathered in those years for their sepulchre light, xlv. ix. This gathering was from the people who were present at the repre

sentation; and when the value of money at that time is considered, and also that on the same day every church in London had a sepulchre, each more or less attractive, the sum will not be regarded as despicable.

The only theatres for the people were churches, and the monks were actors; accordingly, at Easter, plays were frequently got up for popular amusement. Brand cites from the churchwardens' accounts of Reading, set forth in Coate's history of that town, several items of different sums paid for nails for the sepulchre; "for rosyn to the Resurrection play" for setting up off poles for the scaffold whereon the plays were perform ed; for making "a Judas;" for the writing of the plays themselves; and for other expenses attending the "getting up" of the representations. Though the subjects exhibited were connected with the incidents commemorated by the festival, yet the most splendid shows must have been in those churches which performed the resurrection at the sepulchre with a full dramatis persona of monks, in dresses according to the characters they assumed.

Mr. Fosbroke gives the " properties" of the sepulchre show belonging to St. Mary Redcliff's church at Bristol, from an original MS. in his possession for merly belonging to Chatterton, viz. "Memorandum:-That master Cannings hath delivered, the 4th day of July, in the year of our Lord 1470, to master Nicholas Pelles, vicar of Redclift, Moses Conterin, Philip Berthelmew, and John Brown, procurators of Redclift beforesaid, a new Sepulchre, well guilt with fine gold, and a civer thereto; an image of God Almighty rising out of the same Sepulchre, with all the ordinance that longeth thereto; that is to say, a lath made of timber and iron work thereto. Item, hereto longeth Heven, made of timber and stained cloths. Ítem, Hell made of timber and iron work thereto, with Devils the number of thirteen. Item, four knights armed, keeping the Sepulchre, with their weapons in their hands; that is to say, two spears, two axes, with two shields. Item, four pair of Angel's wings, for four Angels, made of timber,and well-painted. Item, the Fadre, the crown and visage, the ball with a cross upon it, well gilt with fine gold. Item, the Holy Ghost coming out of Heven into the Sepulchre. Item, longeth to the four Angels, four -Perukes." The lights at the sepulchre

shows, and at Easter, were of themselves a most attractive part of the Easter spectacle. The paschal or great Easter taper at Westminster Abbey was three hundred pounds' weight. Sometimes a large wax light called a serpent was used; its name was derived from its spiral form, it being wound round a rod. To light it, fire was struck from a flint consecrated by the abbot. The paschal in Durham cathedral was square wax, and reached to within a man's length of the roof, from whence this waxen enormity was lighted by "a fine convenience." From this superior light all others were taken. Everv taper in the church was purposely extinguished in order that this might supply a fresh stock of consecrated light, till at the same season in the next year a similar parent torch was prepared.*

EASTER IN LONDON. Easter Monday and Tuesday, and Greenwich fair, are renowned as "holidays" throughout most manufactories and trades conducted in the metropolis. On Monday, Greenwich fair commences. The chief attraction to this spot is the park, wherein stands the Royal Observatory on a hill, adown which it is the delight of boys and girls to pull each other till they are wearied. Frequently of late this place has been a scene of rude disorder. But it is still visited by thousands and tens of thousands from London and the vicinity; the lowest join in the hill sports; others regale in the publichouses; and many are mere spectators, of what may be called the humours of the day.

On Easter Monday, at the very dawn of day, the avenues from all parts towards Greenwich give sign of the first London festival in the year. Working men and their wives; 'prentices and their sweethearts; blackguards and bullies; make their way to this fair. Pickpockets and their female companions go later. The greater part of the sojourners are on foot, but the vehicles for conveyance are innumerable. The regular and irregular stages are, of course, full inside and outside. Hackney-coaches are equally well filled; gigs carry three, not including the driver; and there are countless private chaise-carts, public pony-chaises, and open accommodations. Intermingled with these, town-carts, usually employed

Fosbroke's Brit. Monach.

in carrying goods, are now fitted up, with boards for seats; hereon are seated men, women, and children, till the complement is comete, which is seldom deemed the case till the horses are overloaded. Now and then passes, like "some huge admiral," a full-sized coal-waggon, laden with coal-heavers and their wives, and shadowed by spreading boughs from every tree that spreads a bough; these solace themselves with draughts of beer from a barrel aboard, and derive amusement from criticising walkers, and passengers in vehicles passing their own, which is of unsurpassing size. The six-mile journey of one of these machines is sometimes prolonged from “dewy morn" till noon. It stops to let its occupants see all that is to be seen on its passage; such as what are called the "Gooseberry fairs," by the wayside, whereat heats are run upon half-killed horses, or spare and patient donkeys. Here are the bewitching sounds to many a boy's ears of" A halfpenny ride O!" "A halfpenny ride O!"; upon that sum "first had and obtained," the immediately bestrided urchin has full right to "work and labour" the bit of life he bestraddles, for the full space or distance of fifty yards, there and back; the returning fifty being done within half time of the first. Then there is "pricking in the belt," an old exposed and still practised fraud. Besides this, there are numberless invitations to take “a shy for a halfpenny," at a "bacca box, full o' ha'pence," standing on a stick stuck upright in the earth at a reasonable distance for experienced throwers to hit, and therefore win, but which is a mine of wealth to the costermonger proprietor, from the number of unskilled adventurers.

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Greenwich fair, of itself, is nothing; the congregated throngs are every thing, and fill every place. The hill of the Observatory, and two or three other eminences in the park, are the chief resort of the less experienced and the vicious. But these soon tire, and group after group succeeds till evening. Before then the more prudent visitors have retired to some of the numerous houses in the vicinage of the park, whereon is written, "Boiling water here," or "Tea and Coffee," and where they take such refreshment as these places and their own bundles afford, preparatory to their toil home after their pleasure.

At nightfall, "Life in London," as it is called, is found at Greenwich.

Every room in every public-house is fully occupied by drinkers, smokers, singers and dancers, and the "balls are kept up during the greater part of the night. The way to town is now an indescribable scene. The vehicles congregated by the visitors to the fair throughout the day resume their motion, and the living reflux on the road is dense to uneasiness. Of all sights the most miserable is that of the poor broken-down horse, who having been urged three times to and from Greenwich with a load thither of pleasure-seekers at sixpence per head, is now unable to return, for the fourth time, with a full load back, though whipped and lifted, and lifted and whipped, by a reasoning driver, who declares "the hoss did it last fair, and why shouldn't he do it again." The open windows of every house for refreshment on the road, and clouds of tobacco-smoke therefrom, declare the full stowage of each apartment, while jinglings of the bells, and calls "louder and louder yet," speak wants and wishes to waiters, who disobey the instructions of the constituent bodies that sent them to the bar. Now from the wayside booths fly out corks that let forth "pop" and "ginger-beer," and little party-coloured lamps give something of a joyous air to appearances that fatigue and disgust. Overwearied children cry before they have walked to the halfway house; women with infants in their arms pull along their tipsey well-beloveds, others endeavour to wrangle or drag them out of drinking rooms, and, until long after midnight, the Greenwich road does not cease to disgorge incongruities only to be rivalled by the figures and exhibitions in Dutch and Flemish prints.

While this turmoil, commonly called pleasure-taking, is going on, there is another order of persons to whom Easter affords real recreation. Not less inclined to unbend than the frequenters of Greenwich, they seek and find a mode of spending the holiday-time more rationally, more economically, and more advantageously to themselves and their families. With their partners and offspring they ride to some of the many pleasant villages beyond the suburbs of London, out of the reach of the harm and strife incident to mixing with noisy crowds. Here the contented groups are joined by rela

tions or friends, who have appointed to meet them, in the quiet lanes or sunny fields of these delightful retreats. When requisite, they recruit from well-stored junket baskets, carried in turn; and after calmly passing several hours in walking and sauntering through the open balmy air of a spring-day, they sometimes close it by making a good comfortable teaparty at a respectable house on their way to town. Then a cheerful glass is order

ed, each joins in merry conversation, or some one suspected of a singing face justifies the suspicion, and "the jocund song goes round," till, the fath being reminded by the mothers, more than once possibly, that "it's getting late," they rise refreshed and happy, and go home. Such an assembly is composed of honest and industrious individuals, whose feelings and expressions are somewhat, perhaps, represented below.

INDEPENDENT MEN.

A HOLIDAY SONG.

We're independent men, with wives, and sweethearts, by our side,
We've hearts at rest, with health we're bless'd, and, being Easter tide,
We make our spring-time holiday, and take a bit of pleasure,
And gay as May, drive care away, and give to mirth our leisure.

It's for our good, that thus, my boys, we pass the hours that stray,
We'll have our frisk, without the risk of squabble or a fray;
Let each enjoy his pastime so, that, without fear or sorrow,
When all his fun is cut and run, he may enjoy to-morrow.

To-morrow may we happier be for happiness to day,

That child or man, no mortal can, or shall, have it to say,
That we have lost both cash and time, and been of sense bereft,
For what we've spent we don't relent, we've time and money left.

And we will husband both, my boys, and husband too our wives;
May sweethearts bold, before they're old, be happy for their lives;

For good girls make good wives, my boys, and good wives make men better,'
When men are just, and scorning trust, each man is no man's debtor.

Then at this welcome season boys, let's welcome thus each other,
Each kind to each, shake hands with each, each be to each a brother;
Next Easter holiday may each again see flowers springing,
And hear birds sing, and sing himself, while merry bells are ringing.

The clear open weather during the Easter holidays in 1825, drew forth a greater number of London holiday keepers than the same season of many preceding years. They were enabled to indulge by the full employment in most branches of trade and manufacture; and if the period was spent not less merrily, it was enjoyed more rationally and with less excess than before was customary. Greenwich, though crowded, was not so abundant of boisterous rudeness. "It is almost the only one of the popular amusements that remains: Stepney, Hampstead, Westend, and Peckham fairs have been crushed by the police, that stern, rugged nurse' of national morality; and although Greenwich fair continues, it is any thing but what it used to be. Greenwich, however, will always have a charm: the fine park remains-trees, glades, turf, and the view from the observatory, one of the noblest in the world-before you the towers of these palaces built for a monarch's residence, now ennobled into a refuge from life's storms for the gallant defenders of their country, after their long and toilsome pilgrimage-then the noble river; and in the distance, amidst the din and smoke, appears the mighty heart' of this mighty empire; these are views worth purchasing at the expense of being obliged to visit Greenwich fair in this day of its decline. 'Punch' and his better half' seemed to be the presiding deities in the fair, so little of merriment was there to be found. In the park, however, the scene was different; it was nearly filled with persons of all ages: the young came there for amusement, to see and be seen-the old to pay their customary annual visit. On the hills was the usual array of telescopes; there were also many races, and many sovereigns in the course of the day changed hands on the event of them; but one race in particular deserves remark, not that there was any thing in the character, appearance, or speed of the competitors, to distinguish them from the herd of others; the circumstances in it that afforded amusement was the dishonesty of the stakeholder, who, as the parties had just reached the goal, scampered off with the stakes, amidst the shouts of the by-standers, and the ill-concealed chagrin of the two gentlemen who had foolishly committed their money to the hands of a stranger."

No. 15.

British Press.

According to annual custom on Easter Monday, the minor theatres opened on that day for the season, and were thronged, as usual, by spectators of novelties, which the Amphitheatre, the Surrey theatre, Sadler's-wells, and other places of dramatic entertainment, constantly get up for the holiday-folks. The scene of attraction was much extended, by amusements long before announced at distant suburbs. At half-past five on Monday afternoon, Mr. Green accompanied by one of his brothers, ascended in a balloon from the Eagle Tavern, the site of the still remembered "Shepherd and Shepherdess," in the City-road. "The atmosphere being extremely calm, and the sun shining brightly, the machine, after it had ascended to a moderate height, seemed to hang over the city for nearly half an hour, presenting a beautiful appearance, as its sides glistened with the beams of that orb, towards which it appeared to be conveying two of the inhabitants of a different planet." It descended near Ewell in Surrey. At a distance of ten miles from this spot, Mr. Graham, another acrial navigator, let off another balloon from the Star and Garter Tavern, near Kew-bridge. "During the preparations, the gardens began to fill with a motley company of farmers' families, and tradesmen from the neighbourhood, together with a large portion of city folks, and a small sprinkle of some young people of a better dressed order. The fineness of the day gave a peculiar interest to the scene, which throughout was of a very lively description.

Parties of ladies, sweeping the 'green sward,' their gay dresses, laughing eyes, and the cloudless sky, made every thing look gay. Outside, it was a multitude, as far as the eye could see on one side. The place had the appearance of a fair, booths and stalls for refreshments being spread out, as upon these recreative occasions. Carts, drays, coaches, and every thing which could enable persons the better to overlook the gardens, were put into eager requisition, and every foot of resting-room upon Kew-bridge had found an anxious and curious occupant. In the mean time, fresh arrivals were taking place from all directions, but the clouds of dust which marked the line of the London-road, in particular, denoted at once the eagerness and numbers of the new comers. A glimpse in that direction showed the pedestrians, half roasted with the sun, and

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