priests repeat French prayers.10When Palais Royal vice subsides,11
(Who plays there's a complete ass—)
When footpaths grow on highway sides12—
Then! then's the Aurea-Ætas!
There, France, I leave thee.—Jean Taureau!13
What think'st thou of thy neighbours?
Or (what I own I'd rather know)
What—think'st thou of MY LABOURS?
A TRAVELLER OF 1827, (W. P.)
Carshalton.
CARRYING THE TAR BARRELS AT BROUGH, WESTMORELAND
SIR,—In the haste in which I wrote my last account of the carrying of "tar barrels" in Westmoreland,14 (owing to the pressure of time,) I omitted some most interesting information, and I think I cannot do better than supply the deficiency this year.
As I said before, the day is prepared for, about a month previously—the townsmen employ themselves in hagging furze for the "bon-fire," which is situated in an adjoining field. Another party go round to the different houses, grotesquely attired, supplicating contributions for the "tar barrels," and at each house, after receiving a donation, chant a few doggerel verses and huzza! It is, however, well that people should contribute towards defraying the expense, for if they do not get enough money they commit sad depredations, and if any one is seen carrying a barrel they wrest it from him.
For my part, I liked the "watch night" the best, and if it were possible to keep sober, one might enjoy the fun—sad havoc indeed was then made among the poultry—when ducks and fowls were crackling before the fire all night; in fact, a few previous days were regular shooting days, and the little birds were killed by scores. But ere morning broke in upon them, many of the merry group were lying in a beastly state under the chairs and tables, or others had gone to bed; but this is what they called spending a merry night. The day arrives, and a whole troop of temporary soldiers assemble in the town at 10 P.M. with their borrowed instruments and dresses, and a real Guy,—not a paper one,—but a living one—a regular painted old fellow, I assure you, with a pair of boots like the Ogre's seven leagued, seated on an ass, with the mob continually bawling out, "there's a par o'ye!"
Thus they parade the town—one of the head leaders knocks at the door—repeats the customary verses, while the other holds a silken purse for the cash, which they divide amongst them after the expenses are paid—and a pretty full purse they get too. In the evening so anxious are they to fire the stack, that lanterns may be seen glimmering in all parts of the field like so many will-o'-the-wisps; then follow the tar barrels, and after this boisterous amusement the scene closes, save the noise throughout the night, and for some nights after of the drunken people, who very often repent their folly by losing their situations.
Now, respecting the origin of this custom, I merely, by way of hint, submit, that in the time of Christian martyrdom, as tar barrels were used for the "burning at the stake" to increase the ravages of the flame:—the custom is derived,—out of rejoicings for the abolition of the horrid practice, and this they show by carrying them on their heads (as represented at page 296, vol. 8.), but you may treat this suggestion as you please, and perhaps have the kindness to substitute your own, or inquire into it.
W. H. H.
CUSTOM OF BAKING SOUR CAKES
Rutherglen, in the county of Lanarkshire, has long been famous for the singular custom of baking what are called sour cakes. About eight or ten days before St. Luke's fair (for they are baked at no other time in the year), a certain quantity of oatmeal is made into dough with warm water, and laid up in a vessel to ferment. Being brought to a proper degree of fermentation and consistency, it is rolled up into balls proportionable to the intended largeness of the cakes. With the dough is commonly mixed a small quantity of sugar, and a little aniseed or cinnamon. The baking is executed by women only; and they seldom begin their work till after sunset, and a night or two before the fair. A large space of the house, chosen for the purpose, is marked out by a line drawn upon it. The area within is considered as consecrated ground, and is not, by any of the bystanders, to be touched with impunity. The transgression incurs a small fine, which is always laid out in drink for the use of the company. This hallowed spot, is occupied by six or eight women, all of whom, except the toaster, seat themselves on the ground, in a circular form, having their feet turned towards the fire. Each of them is provided with a bakeboard about two feet square, which they hold on their knees. The woman who toasts the cakes, which is done on an iron plate suspended over the fire, is called the queen, or bride, and the rest are called her maidens. These are distinguished from one another by names given them for the occasion. She who sits next the fire, towards the east, is called the todler; her companion on the left hand is called the trodler;15 and the rest have arbitrary names given them by the bride, as Mrs. Baker, best and worst maids, &c. The operation is begun by the todler, who takes a ball of the dough, forms it into a cake, and then casts it on the bakeboard of the trodler, who beats it out a little thinner. This being done, she, in her turn, throws it on the board of her neighbour; and thus it goes round, from east to west, in the direction of the course of the sun, until it comes to the toaster, by which time it is as thin and smooth as a sheet of paper. The first cake that is cast on the girdle is usually named as a gift to some man who is known to have suffered from the infidelity of his wife, from a superstitious notion, that thereby the rest will be preserved from mischance. Sometimes the cake is so thin, as to be carried by the current of the air up into the chimney. As the baking is wholly performed by the hand, a great deal of noise is the consequence. The beats, however, are not irregular, nor destitute of an agreeable harmony, especially when they are accompanied with vocal music, which is frequently the case. Great dexterity is necessary, not only to beat out the cakes with no other instrument than the hand, so that no part of them shall be thicker than another, but especially to cast them from one board to another without ruffling or breaking them. The toasting requires considerable skill; for which reason the most experienced person in the company is chosen for that part of the work. One cake is sent round in quick succession to another, so that none of the company is suffered to be idle. The whole is a scene of activity, mirth, and diversion. As there is no account, even by tradition itself, concerning the origin of this custom, it must be very ancient. The bread thus baked was, doubtless, never intended for common use. It is not easy to conceive how mankind, especially in a rude age, would strictly observe so many ceremonies, and be at so great pains in making a cake, which, when folded together, makes but a scanty mouthful.16 Besides, it is always given away in presents to strangers who frequent the fair. The custom seems to have been originally derived from paganism, and to contain not a few of the sacred rites peculiar to that impure religion; as the leavened dough, and the mixing it with sugar and spices, the consecrated ground, &c.; but the particular deity, for whose honour these cakes were at first made, is not, perhaps, easy to determine. Probably it was no other than the one known in Scripture (Jer. 7 ch. 18 v.) by the name of the Queen of Heaven, and to whom cakes were likewise kneaded by women.
J. S. W.
SONG
How in the depth of winter rude
A lovely flower is prized,
Which in the month of April view'd,
Perhaps has been despised.
How
It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the absurdity (exploded in England at the Reformation) of a Latin liturgy still obtains in France.
The Palais Royal! that pandemonium of profligacy! whose gaming tables have eternally ruined so many of our countrymen! So many, that he who, unwarned by their sad experience, plays at them, is—is he not?—"complete ass."
There are none, even in the leading streets; our ambassador's, for instance.
As the
Both paper and types are very inferior to ours. But that I respect the editor's modesty, I would say it were not easy to find a periodical in Paris, at once so handsomely and economically got up as—this MIRROR.
See MIRROR, vol. 8, page 296.
These names are descriptive of the manner in which the women, so called, perform their part of the work, To todle, is to walk or move slowly, like a child; to trodle, is to walk or move more quickly.
From our Correspondent's description of these cakes, we suppose them to resemble the wafers sold by the confectioners, except in the elegant designs on their surface.
