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This piece of petty spite sadly chagrined the Tarasconians. Their “tarasque” was endeared to them by its antiquity, as well as by the amusement, it af. forded them. For four years the festival of the “tarasque” remained uncelebrated, when an attempt was made to reestablish it; a new “tarasque” was procured by subscription among the people; but this also was seized by the Arletins, and carried over the river to Beaucaire, where it remained ever since. “However,” said a hostess of Tarascon to Miss Plumptre, “since Buonaparte has happily restored order in France, we are looking forward to better times, and hope before the next festival of St. Martha, to be permitted to reclaim our “tarasque,' and renew the procession.” “Ah, ladies,” she added, “you have no idea how gay and how happy we all used to be at that time! The rich and the poor, the old and the young, the men and the women, all the same ! all laughed, all danced, all sung; there was not a sad face in the town. The ladies were all so emulous of leading the “tarasque !' They were all dressed alike; one was appointed to regulate the dress, and whatever she ordered the rest were obliged to follow. Sometimes the dresses were trimmed with gold or silver, sometimes with lace, so rich, so grand! God knows whether we shall ever see such times again. Ah! it was only because we were so happy that the people of Arles envied us, and had such a spite against us; but they have no reason to envy us now, we have had sorrow enough: ninety-three persons were guillotined here, and you may think what trouble that has spread among a number of families. I myself, ladies, have had my share of sorrow. My husband was not indeed guillotined, but he was obliged to fly the town to avoid it: he never quitted France, but went about from place to place where he was not known, working and picking up a livelihood as well as he ...”; and it is only since Buonaparte has been first consul that he has ventured to return. Besides, everything that I had of any value, my linen, my mattresses, my silver spoons and forks, were all taken away by the requisition, and I can only hope to have things comfortably about me again by degrees, if we are so lucky as to get tolerable custom to our inn.” then she entered upon a long string of apologies for the state of her house. “She

was afraid,” she said, “that we should find things very uncomfortable, but it was not in her power to receive ladies and gentlemen as she had been used to do before her misfortunes. A few years hence, if Buonaparte should but live, she hoped, if we should happen to pass that way again, we should see things in a very different state.””

The SEAsoN.

“Now,” we perceive in the “Mirror of the Months,” that, “now, on warm evenings after business hours, citizens of all ages grow romantic; the single, wearing away their souls in sighing to the breezes of Brixton-hill, and their soles in getting there; and the married, sipping syllabub in the arbours of White Conduithouse, or cooling themselves with hot rolls and butter at the New River Head. “Now, too, moved by the same spirit of romance, young patricians, who have not yet been persuaded to banish themselves to the beauty of their paternal groves, fling themselves into funnies, and fatigue their ennui to death, by rowing up the river to Mrs. Grange's garden, to eat a handful of strawberries in a cup-full of cream. “Now, adventurous cockneys swim from the Sestos of the Strand stairs to the Abydos of the coal-barge on the op[. shore, and believe that they have een rivalling Lord Byron and Leander— not without wondering, when they find themselves in safety, why the lady for whom the latter performed a similar feat is called the Hero of the story, instead of the Heroine, “Finally,–now pains-and-pleasuretaking citizens hire.cozey cottages for six weeks certain in the Curtain-road, and ask their friends to come and see them

“in the country.”

The Feast of Cherries.

There is a feast celebrated at Hamburg, called the “feast of cherries,” in which troops of children parade the streets with green boughs, ornamented with cherries, to commemorate a victory, obtained in the following manner:—In 1432, the Hussites threatened the city of Hamburg

And - with an immediate destruction, when one

* Miss Plumptre's Travels in France

of the citizens, named Wolf, proposed that all the children in the city, from seven to fourteen years of age, should be clad in mourning, and sent as supplicants to the enemy. Procopius Nasus, chief of the Hussites, was so touched with this spectacle, that he received the young supplicants, regaled them with cherries and other fruits, and promised them to spare the city. . The children returned crowned with leaves, holding cherries, and crying “victory !”—and hence, the “feast of cherries” is an annual commemoration of humane feelings.”

To The GNAT. For the Every-Day Book.

Native of Ponds ! I scarce could deem
Thee worthy of my praise,

Wert thou not joyous in the beam
Of summer's closing days.

But who can watch thy happy bands Dance o er the golden wave,

And be not drawn to fancy's lands,And not their pleasures crave 1

Small as thou art to vulgar sight, In beauty thou art born :—

Thou waitest on my ears at night, Sounding thine insect horn.

The sun returns—his glory spreads In heaven's pure flood of light;

Thou makest thine escape from beds, And risest with a bite.

Where'er thy lancet draws a vein,
'Tis always sure to swell;

A very molehill raised with pain
As many a maid can tell.

Yet, for thy brief epitome
Of love, life, tone and thrall ;
I'd rather have a bump from thee,
Than Spurz-heim, or from Gall.
J. R. P.


It is noted by Dr. Forster, that towards the end of July the fishery of ilchards begins in the west of England. hrough August it continues with that of mullets, red surmallets, red gurnards, and several other fish which abound on our south-west coasts. In Cornwall, fish is so cheap and so commonly used as an

• Philips's Account of Fruits.

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article of food, that we remember so lately as August, 1804, the then rector of Boconnoc used to have turbot for supper, which he considered as a good foundation for a large bowl of posca, a sort of weak punch drank in that country. Having witnessed on this day in 1822, the grand Alpine view of the lake of Geneva, and the Swiss and Savoyard mountains behind it, from Mount Jura, we are reminded to present the reader with the following excellent lines which we have met with in “Fables, by Thomas Brown, the Younger,” London, 1823. VIEw of The Alps AND THE LAKE of GEN Eva FRom THE JURA.

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* Briti h Cironologist.

Friday last. On his entering into the county at Croft-bridge, which separates it from the county of York, he was met by the officers of the see, the mayor and corporation of Stockton, and several of the principal nobility and others of the county. Here a sort of ceremony was performed, which had its origin in the feudal times,” &c. The origin of the ceremony above alluded to is this. About the commence

ment of the fourteenth century, sir John

Conyers slew with his falchion in the fields of Sockburne, a monstrous creature, a dragon, a worm, or flying serpent, that devoured men, women, and children. The then owner of Sockburne, as a reward for his bravery, gave him the manor with its appurtenances to hold for ever, on condition that he met the lord bishop of Durham, with this falchion, on his first entrance into his diocese, after his election to that see. And in confirmation of this tradition, there is painted in a window of Sockburne church, the falchion just now spoken of; and it is also cut in marble, upon the tomb of the great ancestor of the Conyers', together with a dog and the monstrous worm or serpent, lying at his feet. When the bishop first comes into his diocese, he crossses the river Tees, either at the Ford of Nesham, or Croft-bridge, at one of which places the lord of the manor of Sockburne, or his representative, rides into the middle of the river, if the bishop comes by Nesham, with the ancient falchion drawn in his hand, or upon the middle of Croft-bridge; and then, presents it to the bishop, addressing him in the ancient form of words. Upon which the bishop takes the falchion into his hands, looks at it, and returns it back again, wishing the lord of the manor his health and the enjoyment of his estate. There are likewise some lands at Bishop's Auckland, called Pollard's lands, held by a similar service, viz. showing to the bishop one fawchon, at his first coming to Auckland after his consecration. The form of words made use of is, I believe, as follows:– “My Lord,—On behalf of myself as well as of the several other tenants of Pollard's lands, I do humbly present your lordship with this fawchon, at your first coming here, wherewith as the tradidion goeth, Pollard slew of old, a great and venomous serpent, which did much harm to man and beast, and by the per

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Sir, The following is a brief notice of the annual mock election of the “mayor of Bartlemass,” at Newbury, in Berkshire.

The day on which it takes place, is the first Monday after St. Anne's; therefore, this year if not discontinued, and I believe it is not, it will be held on the thirty-first day of July. The election is held at the Bull and Dog public-house, where a dinner is provided; the principal dishes being bacon and beans, have obtained for it the name of the “bacon and bean feast.” In the course of the day a F. takes place. A cabbage is stuck on a pole and carried instead of a mace, accompanied by similar substitutes for the other emblems of civic dignity, and there is, of course, plenty of “rough music.” A “justice” is chosen at the same time, some other offices are filled up, and the day ends by all concerned getting completely “how came ye so.”

In the same town, a mock mayor and justice are likewise chosen for Norcutt

lane, būt whether on the same day or not I cannot say ; how long these customs have existed, or whence they originated I do not know; they were before I, or the oldest man in the town, can remember.


The SEAson.

By the “Mirror of the Months,” the appearance of natural scenery at this season is brought before us. “The cornfields are all redundant with waving gold —gold of all hues—from the light yellow of the oats, (those which still remain uncut,) to the deep sunburnt glow of the red wheat. But the wide rich sweeps of these fields are now broken in upon, here and there, by patches of the parched and withered looking bean crops; by occasional bits of newly ploughed land, where the rye lately stood; by the now darkening turnips—dark, except where they are being fed off by sheep flocks; and lastly by the still bright-green meadows, now studded every where with grazing cattle, the second crops of grass being already gathered in.

“The woods, as well as the single timber trees that occasionally start up with such fine effect from out of the hedge-rows, or in the midst of meadows and cornfields, we shall now find sprinkled with what at first looks like gleams of scattered sunshine lying among the leaves, but what, on examination, we shall find to be the new foliage that has been put forth since midsummer, and which yet retains all the brilliant green of the spring. The effect of this new green, lying in sweeps and patches upon the old, though little observed in general, is one of the most beautiful and characteristic appearances of this season. In many cases, when the sight of it is caught near at hand, on the sides of thick plantations, the effect of it is perfectly deceptive, and you wonder for a moment how it is, that while the sun is shining so o every where, it should shine so much more brightly on those particular spots.”

NATURALISTS' cALEN DAR. Mean Temperature. . . 63 - 60.

The ears are fill’d, the fields are white,
The constant harvest-moon is bright.
To grasp the bounty of the year,
The reapers to the scene repair,
With hook in hand, and bottles slung,
And dowlas-scrips beside them hung.
The sickles stubble all the ground,
And fitful hasty laughs go round;
The meals are done as soon as tasted, -
And neither time nor viands wasted.
All over—then, the barrels foam—
The “Largess”-cry, the “Harvest-home!” o

The “Mirror of the Months” likens of youth are either fulfilled or forgotten, August to “that brief, but perhaps best and the fears and forethoughts connected period of human life, when the promises with decline have not yet grown strong

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