visitants fast while the sun was going down. Many were arrested in their progress to the gate by the sight of the boys belonging to the college, who were at their evening play within their own grounds, and who, before they retired for the night, sung "God save the King," and "Rule Britannia," in full chorus, with fine effect. The fair, or at least such part of it as was suffered to be continued, was held in the open space on the right hand of the street leading from Greenwich to the Creek bridge. "The Crown and Anchor" booth was the great attraction, as indeed well it might. It was a tent, three hundred and twenty-three feet long, and sixty feet wide. Seventy feet of this, at the entrance, was occupied by seats for persons who chose to take refreshment, and by a large space from whence the viands were delivered. The remaining two hundred and fifty feet formed the "Assembly room," wherein were boarded floors for four rows of dancers throughout this extensive length; on each side were seats and tables. The price of admission to the assembly was one shilling. The check ticket was a card, whereon was printed, tent, consisting of two harps, three violins, a bass viol, two clarionets, and a flute, played airs from "Der Freischütz," and other popular tunes. Save the crowd, there was no confusion; save in the quality of the dancers and dancing, there was no observable difference between this and other large assemblies; except, indeed, that there was no master of the ceremonies, nor any difficulty in obtaining or declining partners. It was neither a dancing school, nor a school of morals; but the moralist might draw conclusions which would here, and at this time, be out of place. There were at least 2,000 per sons in this booth at one time. In the fair were about twenty other dancing booths; yet none of them comparable in extent to the "Crown and Anchor." In one only was a price demanded for admission; the tickets to the "Albion Assembly" were sixpence. Most of these booths had names; for instance, "The Royal Standard ;" "The Lads of the Village," "The Black Boy and Cat Tavern,” "The Moon-rakers," &c. At eleven o'clock, stages from Greenwich to London were in full request. One of them obtained 4s. each for inside, and 28. 6d. for outside passengers; the average price was 3s. inside, and 2s. outside; and though; the footpaths were crowded with passengers, yet all the inns in Greenwich and on the road were thoroughly filled. Certainly, the greater part of the visitors were mere spectators of the scene.. NIGHT. The late Henry Kirke White, in a fragment of a poem on "Time," beautifully imagines the slumbers of the sorrowful. Reader, bear with its melancholy tone. A summer's day is not less lovely for a passing cloud. Behold the world Rests, and her tired inhabitants have paused His griefs unshared. The mother tends no more Crowning with Hope's bland wreath his shuddering nurse, The general moral ;-tells us that repose, Is coming on us-that the weary crowds, Shall soon taste lasting quiet, wrapt around With grave-clothes; and their aching restless heads The Sluice-house. Ye who with rod and line aspire to catch Here too doth sometimes prey the rav'ning shark If fortune aid ye, ye perchance shall find Upon an average within one day, At least a fish, or two; if ye do not, Most glorious nibbles: come then, haste ye here, From Canonbury tower onward by the New River,is a pleasant summer afternoon's walk. Highbury barn, or, as it is now called, Highbury tavern, is the first place of note beyond Canonbury. It was anciently a barn belonging to the ecclesiastics of Clerkenwell; though it is at present only known to the inhabitants of that suburb, by its capacity for filling them with good things in return for the money they spend there. The "barn" itself is the assemblyroom, whereon the old roof still remains. passengers to the Sluice-house, and turned This house has stood in the way of all many from their firm-set ing in the waters near it. Every man purpose of fishwho carries a rod and line is not an Isaac Walton, whom neither blandishment nor obstacle could swerve from his mighty end, when he went forth to kill fish. He was the great progenitor of all That war upon the tenants of the stream, He neither stumbled, stopt, nor had a fall When he essay'd to war on dace, bleak, bream, Stone-loach or pike, or other fish, I deem. The Sluice-house is a small wooden building, distant about half a mile beyond Highbury, just before the river angles off towards Newington. With London anglers it has always been a house of celebrity, because it is the nearest spot wherein they have hope of tolerable sport. Within it is now placed a machine for forcing water into the pipes that supply the inhabitants of Holloway, and other parts adjacent. Just beyond is the Eel-pie house, which many who angle thereabouts mistake for the Sluice-house. To instruct the uninformed, and to gratify the eye of some who remember the spot they frequented in their youth, the preceding view, taken in May 1825, has been engraved. If the artist had been also a portrait painter, it would have been well to have secured a sketch of the present keeper of the Sluice-house; his manly mien, and mild expressive face, are worthy of the pencil: if there be truth in physiognomy, he is an honest, goodhearted man. His dame, who tenders Barcelona nuts and oranges at the Sluicehouse door for sale, with fishing-lines froin two-pence to six-pence, and rods at a penny each, is somewhat stricken in years, and wholly innocent of the metropolis and its manners. She seems of the times Gordon meeting a gentleman in the streets of Cambridge who had recently "When our fathers pluck'd the blackberry received the honour of knighthood, Jemmy And sipp'd the silver tide." An etching of the eccentric individual, from whence the present engraving is taken, was transmitted by a respectable "Cantab," for insertion in the EveryDay Book, with the few particulars ensuing :: James Gordon was once a respectable solicitor in Cambridge, till "love and liquor" "Robb'd him of that which once enriched him, And made him poor indeed!" He is well known to many resident and non-resident sons of alma mater, as a déclamateur, and for ready wit and reNo. 23. approached him, and looking him full in the face, exclaimed, "The king, by merely laying sword on, Could make a knight of Jemmy Gordon." At a late assize at Cambridge, a man named Pilgrim was convicted of horsestealing, and sentenced to transportation. Gordon seeing the prosecutor in the street, loudly vociferated to him, "You, sir, have done what the pope of Rome cannot do; you have put a stop to Pilgrim's Progress!" Gordon was met one day by a person of rather indifferent character, who pitied Jemmy's forlorn condition, (he being without shoes and stockings,) and said, "Gordon, if you will call at my house, I will give you a pair of shoes." Jemmy, assuming a contemptuous air, replied, These brief memoranda suffice to memorialize a peculiar individual. James Gordon at one time possessed "fame, wealth, and honours:" now-his "fame" is a hapless notoriety; all the "wealth" that remains to him is a form that might have been less careworn had he been less careless; his honour is "air-thin air," "his gibes, his jests, his flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar," no longer enliven the plenteous banquet : "Deserted in his utmost need By men his former bounty fed," the bitter morsel for his life's support is parish dole. "The gayest of the gay" is forgotten in his age-in the darkness of life; when reflection on what was, cannot better what is. Brilliant circles of acquaintance sparkle with frivolity, but friendship has no place within them. The prudence of sensuality is selfishness. . A Cross A Leg.. A Pope A Monk. A Nun. .an old woman An Abbott. .a bonnet-maker ..a waterman Brown ..a horse-dealer Grey Pink ..a fishmonger a painter A Savage. . a carpenter He founded the abbey of Malmesbury, and was the first Englishman who cultivated Latin and English or Saxon poesy. Among his other mortifications, he was accustomed to recite the psalter at night, plunged up to the shoulders in a pond of water. He was the first bishop of Sherborne, a see which was afterwards removed to Salisbury, and died in 709.* He turned a sunbeam into a clothespeg; at least, so say his biographers this was at Rome. Saying mass there in the church of St. John de Lateran, he put off his vestment; the servant neglecting to take it, he hung it on a sunbeam, whereon it remained, " to the wonderful admiration of the beholders."+ FLORAL DIRECTORY. Common Avens. Geum Urbanum. Dedicated to St. Urban May 26. St. Philip Neri, A. D. 1595. St. Augustine, Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 604. St. Eleutherius, Pope, A. D. 192. St. Quadratus, Bp. A. D. 125. St. Oduvald, Abbot, A. D. 698. St. Philip Neri. He was born at Florence in 1515, became recluse when a child, dedicated himself to poverty, and became miraculously fervent. "The divine love," says Alban Butler," so much dilated the breast of our saint, that the gristle which joined the fourth and fifth ribs on the left side was broken, which accident allowed the heart and the larger vessels more play; in which condition he lived fifty years. According to the same authority, his body was sometimes raised from the ground during his devotions some yards high. Butler relates the same of St. Dunstan, St. Edmund, and many other saints, and says that "Calmet, an author still living, assures us that he knows a religious man who, in devout prayer, is sometimes involuntarily raised in the air, and remains hanging in it without any support; also that he is personally acquainted with a devout nun to whom the same had often happened." Butler thinks it probable that they them selves would not determine whether they were raised by angels, or by what other supernatural operation. He says, that Neri could detect hidden sins by the smell of the sinners. He died in 1595: the body of such a saint of course worked miracles. St. Philip Neri founded the congregation or religious order of the Oratory, in 1551. The rules of this religious order savour of no small severity. By the "Institutions of the Oratory," (printed at Oxford, 1687, 8vo. pp. 49.) they are required to mix corporal punishments with of November to the feast of the resurtheir religious harmony:-"From the first things shall be heightened by a concert of rection, their contemplation of celestial music; and it is also enjoined, that at certain seasons of frequent occurrence, they all whip themselves in the Oratory. After half an hour's mental prayer, the officers distribute whips made of small |