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out, and the joyful song of the birds, who are beginning to choose their mates, announce that Valentine Day is come, the whole burthen of which seems with us to have fallen on the unlucky postman. He now finds that love is no such light matter, whatever other folks may think, for is he not transformed for the nonce into Cupid's messenger, albeit his blue coat and red collar have nothing very etherial in them?

Saint Valentine?—all we know of this holy personage is that he was a priest at Rome, where he was martyred about 270, and had in consequence the honour of being assigned a niche in the record of Saints, his post being the 14th of February. Enquiries have been made, but hitherto in vain, to discover what the good bishop had done that should entitle him to have this day above all others appropriated to him. We have only, however, to suppose that his martyrdom took place on the 14th, and the whole mystery is solved, all the other peculiarities of the day being merely accidents, that had nothing to do with his individual character, and which would have as readily attached to any one else, who had met with the good fortune of being sainted at that particular season.

The origin of this custom has been sought for in the Lupercalia of the Romans, and with much apparent reason, as will be evident when we come to enquire into the old mode of celebrating Valentine's Day, which, as we shall presently see, had but little in common with the modern habit of sending silly letters by the penny post. In ancient Rome a festival was held about the middle of February, called the Lupercalia, in honour of Pan and Juno, whence the latter obtained the epithet of Februata Februalis, and Fabrulla. Upon this occasion the names of young women were put, amidst a variety of ceremonies, into a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed, and so rooted had this, like many other

customs, become amongst the people, that the pastors of the early Christian church found themselves unable to eradicate it. They therefore, instead of entering into a fruitless struggle, adopted their usual policy on such occasions, and since they could not remove what they held to be an unsightly nuisance, they endeavoured, as a skilful architect would do, to convert it into an ornament. Thus they substituted the names of Saints for those of women, a change that would not seem to have been generally, or for any long time, popular, since we read that at a very remote period the custom prevailed of the young men drawing the names of the girls, and that the practice of adopting mates by chance-lots soon grew reciprocal between the sexes. In fact Pan and Juno vacated their seats in favour of Saint Valentine, but the Christian bishop could not escape having much of the heathen ritual fastened upon him. We must not, however, imagine that Valentine's Day, any more than Epiphany or Candlemas, was celebrated with one uniform mode of observance; the customs attendant upon it varied considerably according to the place and period. In many parts of England, and more particularly in London, the person of the opposite sex, who is first met in the morning, not being an inmate of the house, was taken to be the Valentine, a usage that is noticed by the poet, Gay,

"I early rose just at the break of day
Before the sun had chas'd the stars away;
A-field I went, amid the morning dew,

To milk my kine (for so should housewives do)
The first I spied, and the first swain we see

In spite of fortune our true love shall be."

That the lasses went out to seek for their makes, or mates, i. e. Valentines, is also shown in poor Ophelia's broken snatches of a song;

"Good morrow! 'tis St. Valentine's day

All in the morning betime,

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In the Gentlemen's Magazine for 1779, a correspondent under the name of Kitty Curious, relates an odd ceremony that she has been witness to in some humble village in Kent. The girls from five or six to eighteen years old were assembled in a crowd, burning an uncouth effigy, which they called a holly-boy, and which they had stolen from the boys, while in another part of the village the boys were burning what they called an ivy girl, which they had stolen from the girls. The ceremony of each burning was attended with huzzas and other acclamations according to the receipt of custom in all such cases.

meat.

The Monday before Shrove Tuesday was in old times called Collop Monday, " collop" being a term for slices of dried or salted meat, as “steak" signifies a slice of fresh The etymology is too uncertain to make it worth while to quote the different accounts of it, but upon this day it was customary to feast upon eggs and collops, and, as Lent was approaching, our ancestors used to cut up their meat in slices, and preserve it, till the season of fast was over, by salting, or drying it. In some parts the day seemed to have been kept as the vigil, or eve, of Shrove Tuesday, and in the neighbourhood of Salisbury, we are told, the boys went about from door to door, singing thus, "Shrove-tide is nigh at hand,

And I am come a shroving;

Pray, dame, something,

An apple, or a dumpling,

Or a piece of truckle cheese

Of your own making,

Or a piece of pancake.”

The observance of this day originated, if we may be

* Brand and Hone, who have both quoted these lines, pass over the truckle-cheese in silence, as if it involved no difficulty; nor can I offer any certain explanation of the etymology. The epithet truckle,

lieve Polydore Virgil, in the Roman feasts of Bacchus, and some vestiges of such an origin remain to the present time in the custom that the Eton boys have of writing verses at this season in praise of the Lybian God. These were composed in all kinds of measures and affixed to the college-doors.

Shrove Tuesday,-or Pancake Tuesday,-or Fasting's Even, Fasterns, Fasten, as it is sometimes called from being the vigil of Ash Wednesday, the commencement of the Lent Fast,-is a day of great importance in the ritual calendar. It is said to have got its first, and more general, appellation from the circumstance of its being a day when every one was bound to confess and be shrove, or shriven, so long as the Roman Catholic faith was predominant. That none might plead forgetfulness of this ceremony the great bell was rung at an early hour in every parish, and in after times this ringing was still kept up in some places, though the cause of it ceased with the introduction of Protestantism; it then got the name of the Pancake-Bell, for reasons which we shall see hereafter.

Notwithstanding this necessity for confession, Shrove Tuesday with us had all the features of the last day of the Italian carneval. What it was in the old time may be judged from the account given by Taylor, the Waterpoet-" Always before Lent there comes waddling a fat, grosse, groome, called Shrove Tuesday, one whose manners shews he is better fed than taught, and indeed he is the only monster for feeding amongst all the dayes of the yeere, for he devoures more flesh in foureteene houres

which Hone, for some unexplained reason, prints with a capital T, may possibly have a reference to the round, wheel-shaped form of the cheese, for truckle, though well-nigh obsolete in that sense, was once commonly used for a wheel. However derived, the word is even now familiar both in Wiltshire and Dosetshire for a small, but superior kind of cheese.

than this old kingdom doth (or at the least should doe) in sixe weekes after. Such boyling and broyling, such roasting and toasting, such stewing and brewing, such baking, frying, mincing, cutting, carving, devouring, and gorbellied gurmondizing, that a man would thinke people did take in two month's provision at once. "Moreover it

is a goodly sight to see how the cookes in great men's kitchins doe frye in their master's suet, that if ever a cooke be worth the eating, it is when Shrove Tuesday is in towne, for he is so stued and larded, basted, and almost over-roasted, that a man may eate every bit of him and never take a surfet. In a word, they are that day extreme cholerike, and too hot for any man to meddle with, being monarchs of the marow-bones, marquesses of the mutton, lords high regents of the spit and the kettle, barons of the gridiron, and sole commanders of the frying-pan. And all this hurly burly is for no other purpose than to stop the mouth of this land-wheale, Shrove Tuesday, at whose entrance in the morning all the whole kingdome is in quiet, but by the time the clocke strikes elevenwhich by the help of a knavish sexton is commonly before nine, then there is a bell rung called the Pancake Bell, the sound whereof makes thousands of people distracted and forgetful either of manner or humanitie. Then there is a thinge cal'd wheaten flowre, which the sulphory, necromanticke cookes doe mingle with water, egges, spice, and other tragicall, magicall inchantments, and then they put it by little and little into a frying pan of boyling suet, where it makes a confused dismal hissing -like the Lernean snakes in the reeds of Acheron, Stix, or Phlegeton,-until at last by the skill of the cooke it is transformed into the forme of a Flap-Jack, which in our translation is call'd a pancake, which ominous incantation the ignorant people doe devoure very greedily—having for the most part well dined before-but they have no

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