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The Equipage

Of the Grand-master, being neatly nasty, delicately squaled, and magnificently ridiculous, beyond all human bounds and conceivings. On the right the Grandmaster Poney, with the Compasses for his Jewel, appendant to a blue Riband round his neck: On the left his excel

lency Jack, with a Square hanging

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to a white Riband, as Grand-master elect: The Honourable Nic. Baboon, Esq.; senior grand Warden, with his Jewel, being the Level, all of solid gold, and blue Riband: Mr. Balaam van Assinman, Junior Warden, his Jewel the PlumbRule.

Attendants of Honour.

The Grand Sword Bearer, carrying the Sword of State. It is worth observing, This Sword was sent as a Present by Ishmael Abiff (a relation in direct Descent to poor old Hyram) King of the Saracens, to his grace of Wattin, GrandMaster of the Holy-Lodge of St. John of Jerusalem in Clerkenwell, who stands upon our list of Grand-masters for the

very same year

The Grand Secretary, with his
Insignia, &c.

Probationists and Candidates close the
whole Procession.

Tickets to be had, for three Megs a Carcass to scran their Pannum-Boxes, at the Lodge in Brick-Street, near HidePark Corner; at the Barley-Broth Womens at St. Paul's Church-Yard, and the Hospital-Gate in Smithfield; at Nan Duck's in Black-Boy-Alley, Chick-Lane; &c. &c. &c.

NOTE. No Gentlemen's Coaches, or whole Garments, are admitted in our Procession, or at the Feast.

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For the Every-Day Book

THE BLACKThorn.

The April air is shrewd and keen ;

No leaf has dared unfold,
Yet thy white blossom's radiant sheen,
Spring's banner, I behold.
Though all beside be dead and drear,
Undauntedly thy flowers appear.
Thou com'st the herald of a host

When summer from some southern coast
Of blooms which will not fail,
Yet early, fair, rejoicing tree,
Shall call the nightingale.
Sad are the thoughts inspired by thee.

All other trees are wont to wear,

First leaves, then flowers, and last,
Their burden of rich fruit to bear

But thou,-so prompt thy flowers to show,
When summer's pride is past:
Bear'st but the harsh, unwelcome sloe.

So oft young genius, at its birth,

In confidence untried,
Spreads its bright blossoms o'er the earth,
And revels in its pride;
But when we look its fruit to see,
It stands a fair, but barren tree.

So oft, in stern and barbarous lands,
The bard is heard to sing,
Ere the uncultured soul expands,

In the poetic spring;

Then, sad and bootless are his pains,
And linked with woe his name remains.

Therefore, thou tree whose early bough
Thou stirrest in my memory now
All blossomed meets the gale,

And early, fair, rejoicing tree,
Full many a tearful tale:
Sad are the thoughts inspired by thee.
W. HOWITT.

Passing the eye from the hedge-row to the earth, it lights on the "wee-tipp'd" emblem of "modesty" sung by poets of every clime wherein it blows:

The Daisy.
There is a flower, a little flower

With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.

The prouder beauties of the field,

In gay but quick succession shine;
Race after race their honours yield,
They flourish and decline

But this small flower, to nature dear,

While moon and stars their courses run Wreaths the whole circle of the year, Companion of the sun.

It smiles upon the lap of May,

To sultry August spreads its charms,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arms.

The purple heath, the golden broom,
On moory mountains catch the gale,
O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume,
The violet in the vale;

But this bold floweret climbs the hill,
Hides in the forests, haunts the glen,
Plays on the margin of the rill,
Peeps round the fox's den.

Within the garden's cultured round,
It shares the sweet carnation's bed;
And blooms on consecrated ground
In honour of the dead.

The lambkin crops its crimson gem,
The wild bee murmurs on its breast,
The blue fly bends its pensile stem,
Lights o'er the skylark's nest.

'Tis Flora's page :-in every place
In every season fresh and fair
It opens with perennial grace,

And blossoms every where.

On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;
The rose has but a summer reign,
The daisy never dies.

Montgomery.

The flower aptly described by Mr. Montgomery as "companion of the sun," is not forgotten by a contemporary" child of song," from whom, until now, no illustration has graced these pages: the absence may be apologized for, by opening one of his views of nature immediately.

Whence is it

Day Break in the Country.

Awake! awake! the flowers unfold,
And tremble bright in the sun,
And the river shines a lake of gold,-
For the young day has begun.
The air is blythe, the sky is blue,
And the lark, on lightsome wings,
From bushes that sparkle rich with dew,
To heaven her matin sings.

Then awake, awake, while music's note,
Now bids thee sleep to shun,
Light zephyrs of fragrance round thee float
For the young day has begun.
I've wandered o'er yon field of light,
Where daisies wildly spring,

And traced the spot where fays of night
Flew round on elfin wing:

And I've watch'd the sudden darting beam
Make gold the field of grain,

Until clouds obscur'd the passing gleam
And all frown'd dark again.

Then awake, awake, each warbling bird,
Now hails the dawning sun,
Labour's enlivening song is heard,—
For the young day has begun.
Is there to contemplation given
An hour like this one,

When twilight's starless mantle's riven
By the uprising sun?

When featlier'd warblers fleet awake,
His breaking beams to see,
And hill and grove, and bush and brake,
Are fill'd with melody.

Then awake, awake, all seem to chide
Thy sleep, as round they run,
The glories of heaven lie far and wide,-
For the young day has begun.

R. Ryan

Our elder poets are rife in description of the spring; but passing their abundant stores to "Rare Ben," one extract more, and "the day is done."

Winter is so quite forced hence
And lock'd up under ground, that ev'ry sense
Hath several objects; trees have got their heads,
The fields their coats; that now the shining meads
Do boast the paunse, lily, and the rose;

And every flower doth laugh as zephyr blows?
The seas are now more even than the land;

The rivers run as smoothed by his hand;

Only their heads are crisped by his stroke.

How plays the yearling, with his brow scarce broke,
Now in the open grass; and frisking lambs

Make wanton 'saults about their dry suck'd dams ?
Who, to repair their bags, do rob the fields?

How is't each bough a several musick yields?

The lusty throstle, early nightingale,
Accord in tune, tho' vary in their tale;
The chirping swallow, call'd forth by the sun,

And crested lark doth his division run :

The yellow bees the air with murmur fill,

The finches carol, and the turtles bill

Jonson,

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"Ann Holland, Dutchess of Exeter, April 20, 1457. My Body to be buried in the Chapel of the Chancel of the Church of St. Katharine's, beside the Tower of London, where the Corpse of my Lord and husband is buried, and I forbid my executors to make any great feast, or to have a solemn hearse, or any costly lights, or largess of liveries, according to the glory or vain pomp of the world, at my funeral, but only to the worship of God, after the discretion of Mr. John Pynchebeke, Doctor in Divinity, one of my Executors. To the Master of St. Katharines, if he be present at the dirige and mass on my burial day, vis. viiid.; to every brother of that College being then present, iiis. ivd.; to every priest of the same College then present, xxd.; to every Clerk then present, xiid.; to every Chorister, vid.; to every Sister then present, xxd.; to every bedeman of the said place, viiid.; I will that my executors find an honest priest to say mass and pray for my soul, my lords soul, and all Christian souls, in the Chapel where my Body be buried, for the space of seven years next after my decease; and that for so doing he receive every year xii marks, and daily to say Placebo, Dirige, and Mass, when so disposed." The duchess's will was proved on the 15th of May, 1458.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature. . . 49. 10.

Nichols and Son, 2 vols. royal 8vo.

April 21.

A SPRING DIVERSION

Of the Recorder of London. Leaving "hill and valley, dale and field," we turn for "a passing time" to scenes where, according to the authority subjoined by a worthy correspondent, we find "disorder-order."

ANCIENT PICKPOCKETS.

I am, Sir, &c.

T. A.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. April 15, 1826. Sir,-The following notice of an ancient school for learning how to pick pockets is, I conceive, worthy notice in the Every-Day Book. Kennington. In the spring of 1585, Fleetwood, the recorder of London, with some of his brother magistrates, spent a day searching about after sundry persons who were receivers of felons. A considerable number were found in London, Westminster, Southwark, and the suburbs, with the names of forty-five" masterless men and cutpurses," whose practice was to rob gentlemen's chambers and artificers' shops in and about London. They also discovered seven houses of entertainment for such in London; six in Westminster, three in the suburbs, and two in Southwark. Among the rest they found out one Watton, a gentleman born, and formerly a merchant of respectability but fallen into decay. This person kept an alehouse at Smart's quay, near Billingsgate; but for some disorderly conduct it was put down. On this he began a new business, and opened his house for the reception of all the cutpurses in and about the city. In this house was a room to learn young boys to cut purses. Two devices were hung up; one was a pocket, and another was a purse. The pocket had in it certain counters, and was hung round with hawks' bells, and over them hung a little sacring bell. The purse had silver in it; and he that could take out a counter without any noise, was allowed to be a public foyster ;t and he that could take a piece of silver out of the purse without noise of any of the bells, was adjudged a

A small bell used in the ceremony of the mass, and rung on the elevation of the conse crated hos..

A pickpocket.

clever nypper. These places gave great encouragement to evil doers in these times, but were soon after suppressed.†

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature. . 48 · 77.

April 22.

A JEW IS A THIEF! "So runs the proverb; so believes the world." At least so say a great many who call themselves Christians, and who are will ing to believe all evil of the Jews, who, in compliment to their own questionable goodness, they "religiously" hate, with all the soul of "irreligion." The following account of an individual of the Jewish persuasion, well known to many observers of London characters, may disturb their position: it is communicated by a gentleman who gives his name to the editor with

the article.

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a violent thumping upon the floor of the passage leading to the parlour, which was continued at an interval of every third second, announced the approach of some one who clearly imagined himself of no little importance, and thoroughly disturbed the quaker-like serenity of appearance which then prevailed in the room. "How is my dear good lady, and all her little ones? and her respectable husband?" inquired the stranger on the outside. Without waiting for a reply to the two questions, the door was suddenly thrown wide open, and in came a tall thin figure of a man, with a face plainly denoting that it had seen at least ninety winters, and bearing a beard of a dirty divided in the centre, but coming from gray colour, some inches in length, and under and above the ears, over which was tied a gaudy red and yellow silk handkerchief, and a huge pair of heavy costlylooking silver spectacles, which " ever and anon" he raised from his nose. a coat which had once been blue, the skirts whereof almost hung to the ground, and were greatly in the fashion of a Greenwich pensioner's; a velvet waistcoat with a double row of pearl buttons, to which was appended, through one of the buttonholes, a blue spotted handkerchief, reaching down to his knees, a pair of tight pantaloons, which evidently had been intended for another, as they scarcely gained the calf of his leg, and from the fobs whereof were suspended two watch-chains with a profusion of seals; and, on his head, was a hat projecting almost to points in the centre and back, but narrow in the sides. In his right hand a huge but wellmade stick, wielded and pushed forward upon the ground by a powerful effort, had been the noisy herald of his approach.

He wore

On entering the room, he cast an inquiring look upon his astonished and quiet auditors, and stood for a moment to see the effect of his appearance: then, after an awful pause, lifting his spectacles to his nose, and almost thrusting his old but piercing eyes over the cases, with a tiger-like step he advanced to the full front of a quiet, inoffensive, Jack-Robinsonsort-of-a-man who was smoking his pipe, and, throwing his stick under his left arm, he took off his huge hat, thereby discovering a small velvet cap on the top of his head, and holding out his right hand he exclaimed, "Well, my good friend, how are you? my eyes are weak, but I can always, yes, always, discern a good friend: how

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are you? how is your good lady? I hope she is in good health,and all the little ones." The astonished “Christian” looked as if he could have swallowed the pipe from which he was smoking, on being thus addressed by the bearded descendant of Moses, and being absolutely deprived of speech, cast an inquiring look of dismay around on his neighbours, who so far from commiserating his feelings, actually expressed by smiling countenances, the pleasure they took in the rencontre. This was adding oil to the fire, when suddenly turning full in the face of the Jew, who still held out his hand for a friendly shrug, he exclaimed with a voice of phrenzy, "My wife knows thee not! I know thee not! My children know thee not! Leave me! go!" The Jew's hand was quickly withdrawn, while his alarmed countenance expressed the terror of his poor soul. The humiliated Jew said not a word, but quietly took his seat in the further corner of the room, and thence cast his eyes on a clock which was affixed to the wall, as if afraid of looking on a living object. He remained some minutes in this pitiable situation. At last, he took from his pocket, three or four watches, which he regularly applied to his ear, and afterwards wound up; then laying them upon the table, he triumphantly looked at the company, and by his eyes boldly challenged them to produce a wealth, equal to that he exposed to their view. Apparently satisfied, in his own mind, of his superiority as to wealth, over the man who had so cruelly denied all knowledge of him, he called in a kind, but a suppressed voice to the servant in attendance,—“Well, my dear! bring me a glass of good gin and water, sweet with sugar, mind little girl, and I will gratefully thank you; it will comfort my poor old

heart." "You shall have it, sir," said the admiring girl, directing her attention to the exposed jewellery. They were the first kind words heard in that room by poor Levy, and they seemed to draw tears from his eyes; for, from his pocket, he brought forth as many handkerchiefs, of the most opposite and glowing colours, as the grave digger in Hainlet casts off waistcoats, all of which he successively applied to his eyes. The girl quickly returned with the required gin and water, and, after repeated stirring and tasting, casting an eager look at her, he, with the most marked humility, begged "one little, little bit more sugar, and it would

be beautifuls," which was of course granted, and the girl at parting was more liberally rewarded by the poor despised Jew, than by any other person in the room. Commiserating the feelings of a seemingly poor, and ancient man, whose religion and singularity of manner were his only crime, I spoke to him, and was highly delighted to find him infinitely superior to any about him; that is to say, so far as I could judge, for the greater number plainly showed, that they considered silence a sign of wisdom; probably it was so-with them.

Upon Levy leaving the room, I found he had lived in one house, in the neighbourhood, for upwards of sixty years, and borne an irreproachable character; that no man has ever called on him a second time for money due; that from goodness of heart, he has often gave away the fruits of his industry, and deprived himself of personal luxuries, to add to the comforts of others, without considering whether they were Jew or Gentile; that in his own house, he is liberal of his wine, and of attention to his guests; and that he does not deny, though he is far from publishing, that he has acquired wealth. And, yet, this honourable and venerable man, after having reached his ninety-third year, because of his eccentric costume and appearance, was deprived of the comforts of passing a happy hour, after the fatigues of the day. This I trust for the credit of christianity, and for his sake, is not a circumstance of “ everyday."

E. W. W.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature... 48 · 67.

April 23.

ST. GEORGE'S DAY.

1826. King's birth-day kept. For an account of St. George the patron saint of England, and how he fought and conquered a cruel dragon, and thereby saved the princess of Sylene from being devoured, see vol. i. p. 496–502.

On St. George's day, people of fashion were accustomed, even to the beginning of the nineteenth century, to wear coats of cloth of blue, being the national colour in honour of the national saint. This, however, seems to be a reasonable con

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