precedes it, "above all," is a capital view of the old parish church, and the churchyard, wherein "lie the remains" of most of the company who attended the parish dinner-it being as certain that the remains of the rest of the company, occupy other tenements, of "the house appointed for all living," as that they all lived, and ate and drank, and were merry.

This is not a melancholy, but a natural iew. It may be said, there is "a time for all things," but if there be any time, wherein we fear to entertain death, we are not fully prepared to receive him as we ought. It is true, that with "the cup of kindness" at our lips, we do not expect his friendly "shake," before we finish the draught, yet the liquor will not be the worse for our remembering that his is a previous engagement; and, as we do not know the hour of appointment, we ought to be ready at all hours. The business of life is to die.

I am not a member of a parish club, but I have sometimes thought, if I could "do as others do," and ". go to club," I should elect to belong to an old one, which preserved the minutes of its proceedings, and its muniments, from the commencement. My first, and perhaps last, serious motion, would be, "That each anniversary dinner ticket of the club, from the first ticket to the last issued, should be framed and glazed, and hung on the walls of the club room, in chronological order." Such a series would be a never-failing source of interest and amusement. If the parish club of Islington exists, a collection of its tickets so disposed, might be regarded as annals of peculiar worth, especially if many of its predecessors in the annual office of "stewards for the dinner," maintained the consequence of the club in the eyes of the parish, by respectability of execution and magnitude in the anniversary ticket, commensurate with that of the year 1738, with Toms's view of the old parish church and churchyard. I regret that these cannot be here given in the same size as on the ticket; the best that can be effected, is a reduced facsimile of the original, which is accomplished in the accompanying engraving. Let any one who knows the new church of Islington, compare it with the present view of the old church, and say which church he prefers. At this time, however, the present church ma

be

more suitable to Islington, grown, or grown up to, as it is, until it is a part of London; but who would not wish it still a village, with the old edifice for its parish church. That Islington is now more opulent and more respectable, may be very true; but opulence monopolizes, and respectability is often a vain show in the stead of happiness, and a mere flaunt on the ruins of comfort. The remark is, of course, general, and not of Islington in particular, all of whose opulent or respectable residents, may really be so, for aught I know to the contrary. Be it known to them, however, on the authority of the old dinner ticket, that their predecessors, who succeeded the inhabitants from whose doings the village was called “ merry Islington," appear to have dined at a reasonable hour, enjoyed a cheerful glass, and lived in good fellowship.

Immediately beneath the view of the old church on the ticket, follows the stewards' invitation to the dinner, here copied and subjoined verbatim.

N.B.-THE DINNER will be on the Table peremptorily at Two.

Pray Pay the Bearer Five Shillings.

"Merry Islington !"-We may almost fancy we see the "jolly companions, every one," in their best wigs, ample coats, and embroidered waistcoats, at their dinner; that we hear the bells ringing out from the square tower of the old church, and the people and boys outside the door of the "Angel and Crown, in ye Upper Street," huzzaing and rejoicing, that their betters were dining "for the good of the

parish" for so they did read the ticket again.

England is proverbially called "the ringing island," which is not the worst thing to say of it; and our forefathers were great eaters and hard drinkers, and that is not the worst thing to say of them; but of our country we can also tell better things, and keep our bells to cheer our stories; and from our countrymen we can select names among the living and the dead that would dignify any spot of earth. Let us then be proud of our ancient virtue, and keep it alive, and add to it. If each will do what he can to take care that the world is not the worse for his existence, posterity will relate that their ancestors did well in it.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature ... 46 · 60.

April 12.

SIGN OF RAIN.

One of the "Hundred Mery Tales" teacheth that, ere travellers depart their homes, they should know natural signs; insomuch that they provide right array, or make sure that they be safely housed against tempest. Our Shakspeare read the said book of tales, which is therefore called "Shakspeare's Jest Book;" and certain it is, that though he were not skilled in learning of the schoolmen, by reason that he did not know their languages, yet was he well skilled in English, and a right wise observer of things; wherein, if we be like diligent, we, also, may attain unto his knowledge. Wherefore, learn to take heed against rain, by the tale ensuing.

Of the herdsman that said, "Ride apace, ye shall have rain."

A certain scholar of Oxford, which had

studied the judicials of astronomy, upon a time as he was riding by the way, there came by a herdman, and he asked this herdman how far it was to the next town; "Sir," quoth the herdman, "it is rather past a mile and an half;" but, sir," quoth he, " ye need to ride apace, for ye shall have a shower of rain ere ye come thither." What," quoth the scholar, "maketh ye say so? there is no token of rain, for the clouds be both fair and clear." "By my troth," quoth the herdsman, "but ye shall find it so."

The scholar then rode forth, and it chanced ere he had ridden half a mile further, there fell a good shower of rain, that the scholar was well washed, and wet to the skin. The scholar then turned him back and rode to the herdman, and desired him to teach him that cunning. "Nay," quoth the herdman, "I will not teach you my cunning for naught." Then the scholar proffered him eleven shillings to teach him that cunning. The herdman, after he had received his money, said thus:the white face?" "Sir, see you not yonder black ewe with "Yes," quoth the scholar. "when she danceth and holdeth up her "Surely," quoth the herdman, tail, ye shall have a shower of rain within half an hour after."

of herdmen and shepherds, as touching By this ye may see, that the cunning alterations of weathers, is more sure than the judicials of astronomy.

Upon this story it seemeth right to conclude, that to stay at home, when rain be foreboded by signs natural, is altogether wise; for though thy lodging be poor, it were better to be in it, and so keep thy health, than to travel in the wet through a rich country and get rheums thereby.

Leonidas of Tarentum.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 47·44.

April 15.

SEASONABLE.

To the Reader.

On Saturday, the 15th of April, 1826, No. 68, and Part XVII., of the Every Day Book, forming No. 16, and Part IV. of the second volume, were published by Messrs. HUNT and CLARKE, of Tavistockstreet, Covent-garden. As the removal of the office from Ludgate-hill may be an event of as much interest to the friends of the work as any other belonging to the day it is recorded here with the following explanation which was printed on the wrapper of the part :

·

"This step relieves me from cares and anxieties which so embarassed my progress, in conducting and writing the work, as to become overwhelming; and Messrs. Hunt and Clarke will publish it much earlier than hitherto.

"To subscribers the present arrangement will be every way benefi

cial.

"They will have the Every-Day Book punctually at a proper hour; and, as I shall be enabled to give it

the time and attention essential to a
thorough fulfilment of its plan, my ex-
ertions will, henceforth, be incessantly
directed to that end. I, therefore,
respectfully and earnestly solicit the
friends of the work to aid me by
their contributions. At the present
moment they will be most acceptable.
"CORRESPONDENTS will, from this
day, be pleased to address letters and
parcels to me, at Messrs. Hunt and
Clarke's, Tavistock-street, Covent-
garden.
W. HONE."

SIX INDEXES, with a Preface, Title-page, and Frontispiece to the first volume, will be ready for delivery before the appearance of the next sheet; and I hope the labour by which I have endeavoured to facilitate reference to every general and particular subject, may be received as somewhat of atonement for the delay in these essentials. To guard against a similar accident, I have already commenced the index to the second volume. W. HONE.

April 15, 1826. VOL. II.-69.

VOLUME I. contains 868 octavo pages, or 1736 columns, illustrated by One Hundred and Seventy engravings: Price 14s. in boards.

PROGRESS OF THE SEASON.
Song Birds.

If we happen to be wandering forth on a warm still evening during the last week in this month, and passing near a roadside orchard, or skirting a little copse in returning from our twilight ramble, or sitting listlessly on a lawn near some thick plantation, waiting for bed time, we may chance to be startled from our meditations (of whatever kind they may be) by a sound issuing from among the distant leaves, that scares away the silence in a moment, and seems to put to flight even the darkness itself;-stirring the spirit, and quickening the blood, as no other mere sound can, unless it be that of a That is the trumpet calling to battle. nightingale's voice The cold spells of winter, that had kept him so long tonguetied, and frozen the deep fountains of his heart, yield before the mild breath of spring, and he is voluble once more. It is as if the flood of song had been swelling within his breast ever since it last ceased to flow; and was now gushing forth uncontroullably, and as if he had no will to controul it: for when it does stop for a space, it is suddenly, as if for want of breath. In our climate the nightingale seldom sings above six weeks; beginning usually the last week in April. I mention this because many, who would be delighted to hear him, do not think of going to listen for his song till after it has ceased. I believe it is never to be heard after the young are hatched.-Now, too, the pretty, pert-looking blackcap first appears, and pours forth his tender and touching lovesong, scarcely inferior, in a certain plaintive inwardness, to the autumn song of the robin. The mysterious little grasshopper lark also runs whispering within the hedgerows; the redstart pipes prettily upon the apple trees; the goldencrowned wren chirps in the kitchengarden, as she watches for the new sown seeds; and lastly, the thrush, who has hitherto given out but a desultory note at intervals, to let us know that he was not away, now haunts the same tree, and frequently the same branch of it, day after day, and sings an "English Melody" that even Mr. Moore himself could not write appropriate words to.

For the Every-Day Book. Rummaging over the contents of an old stall at a half book, half old iron shop, in an alley leading from Wardour-street to Soho-square yesterday, I lit upon a ragged duodecimo, which had been the strange delight of my infancy, and which I had lost sight of for more than forty years: the "QUEEN-LIKE CLOSET, or RICH CABINET:" written by Hannah Woolly, and printed for R. C. & T. S. 1681; being an abstract of receipts in cookery, confectionary, cosmetics, needlework, morality, and all such branches of what were then considered as female accomplishments. The price demanded was sixpence, which the owner (a little squab duodecimo of a character himself) enforced with the assurance that his "own mother should not have it for a

farthing less." On my demurring at this extraordinary assertion, the dirty little vendor reinforced his assertion with a sort of oath, which seemed more than the occasion demanded : "and now (said he) I have put my soul to it." Pressed by so solemn an asseveration, I could no longer resist a demand which seemed to set me, however unworthy, upon a level with his dearest relations; and depositing a tester, I bore away the tattered prize in triumph. I remembered a gorgeous description of the twelve months of the year, which I thought would be a fine substitute for those poetical descriptions of them which your Every-Day Book had nearly exhausted out of Spenser. This will be a treat, thought I, for friend HONE. To memory they seemed no less fantastic and splendid than the other. But, what are the mistakes of childhood! -on reviewing them, they turned out to be only a set of common-place receipts for working the seasons, months, heathen gods and goddesses, &c. in samplars ! Yet as an instance of the homely oc

cupations of our great-grandmothers, they may be amusing to some readers : "I have seen," says the notable Hannah Woolly, "such Ridiculous things done in work, as it is an abomination to any Artist to behold. As for example: You may find in some Pieces, Abraham and Sarah, and many other Persons of Old time, Cloathed, as they go now a-daies, and truly sometimes worse; for they most resemble the Pictures on Ballads. Let all Ingenious Women have regard, that when they work any Image, to represent it aright. First, let it be Drawn well, and then observe the Directions which are given by Knowing Men. I do assure you, I never durst work any Scripture-Story without informing my self from the Ground of it: nor any other Story, or single Person, without informing my self both of the Visage and Habit; As followeth.

feigned God, He must have long Black"If you work Jupiter, the Imperial Curled-hair, a Purple Garment trimmed with Gold, and sitting upon a Golden Throne, with bright yellow Clouds about him."

The Twelve Months of the Year.

March.

Is drawn in Tawny, with a fierce aspect, a Helmet upon his head, and leanSeeds in his Left hand, and in his Right ing on a Spade, and a Basket of Garden hand the Sign of Aries: and Winged.

April.

A Young Man in Green, with a Garland of Mirtle, and Hawthorn-buds; Winged; in one hand Primroses and Violets, in the other the Sign Taurus.

May.

With a Sweet and lovely Countenance, clad in a Robe of White and Green, emHead a garland of all manner of Roses; broidered with several Flowres, upon his on the one hand a Nightingale, in the other a Lute. His sign must be Gemini.

June.

In a Mantle of dark Grass green, upon his Head a garland of Bents, Kings-Cups, and Maiden-hair; in his Left hand an Angle, with a box of Cantharides, in his Right the Sign Cancer, and upon his

arms a Basket of seasonable Fruits.

July.

In a Jacket of light Yellow, eating Cherries; with his Face and Bosom Sun