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In London, with every pastrycook in the city, and at the west end of the town, it is "high change" on Twelfth-day. From the taking down of the shutters in the morning, he, and his men, with additional assistants, male and female, are fully occupied by attending to the dressing out of the window, executing orders of the day before, receiving fresh ones, or supplying the wants of chance customers. Before dusk the important arrangement of the window is completed. Then the gas is turned on, with supernumerary argand-lamps and manifold wax-lights, to

illuminate countless cakes of all prices and dimensions, that stand in rows and piles on the counters and sideboards, and in the windows. The richest in flavour and heaviest in weight and price are placed on large and massy salvers; one, enormously superior to the rest in size, is the chief object of curiosity; and all are decorated with all imaginable images of things animate and inanimate. Stars, castles, kings, cottages, dragons, trees, fish, palaces, cats, dogs, churches, lions, milkmaids, knights, serpents, and innumerable other forms in snow-white confection

ary, painted with variegated colours, glit ter by "excess of light" from mirrors against the walls testooned with artificial "wonders of Flora." This "paradise of dainty devices," is crowded by successive and successful desirers of the seasonable delicacies, while alternate tapping of hammers and peals of laughter, from the throng surrounding the house, excite smiles from the inmates.

The cause of these sounds may be in ferred from something like this passing outside.

Constable. Make way, make way! Clear the way! You boys stand aside ! Countryman. What is all this; Is any body ill in the shop?

1st Boy. Nobody, sir; it's only Twelfth day!

2d Boy. This is a pastrycook's, sir; look at the window! There they stand! What cakes!

3d Boy. What pretty ones these are! 4th Boy. Only see that! 5th Boy. Why it's as large as the hindwheel of a coach, and how thick!

6th Boy. Ah! it's too big to come out at the door, unless they roll it out.

7th Boy. What elegant figures, and what lots of sweetmeats!

8th Boy. See the flowers; they look almost like real ones.

Countryman. What a crowd inside! 9th Boy. How the people of the house are packing up all the good things! Countryman. What a beautiful lady that is behind the counter!

10th Boy. Which?

Countryman. Why the young one! 10th Boy. What her? oh, she's the pastrycook's daughter, and the other's her mother.

Countryman. No, no; not her; I mean her, there.

10th Boy. Oh, her; she's the shopwoman; all the pastrycooks always try to get handsome ladies to serve in the shop!

Ilth Boy. I say, I say! halloo! here's a piece of work! Look at this gentlemanBext to me his coat-tail's nailed to the window! Look, look!

Countryman. Aye, what?

All the boys. Ah! ah! ah! Huzza. Countryman. Who nailed my coat-tail? Constable!

12th Boy. That's the boy that's got the hammer!

2d Boy. What me? why that's the boy-there; and there's another boy ham

mering! and there's a man with a hama mer!

1st Boy. Who pinned that woman to the gentleman? Why there's a dozen pinned together.

Courtryman. Constable! constable! 2d Boy. Here comes the constable. Hark at him!

Const. Clear away from the doors! Let the customers go in! Make way! Let the cakes come out! Go back, boy!

13th Boy. If you please, Mr. Constable, I'm going to buy a cake!

Const. Go forward, then! Man with cakes. By your leave! by your leave.

Const. Clear the way!

All the Boys. Huzza! huzza! More people pinned - and plenty nailed up!

To explain, to those who may be igno rant of the practice. On Twelfthnight in London, boys assemble round the inviting shops of the pastrycooks, and dexterously nail the coat-tails of spectators, who venture near enough, to the bottoms of the window frames; or pin them together strongly by their clothes. Sometimes eight or ten persons find themselves thus connected. The dexterity and force of the nail driving is so quick and sure, that a single blow seldom fails of doing the business effectually. Withdrawal of the nail without a proper instrument is out of the question; and, consequently, the person nailed must either leave part of his coat, as a cognizance of his attachment, or quit the spot with a hole in it. At every nailing and pinning shouts of laughter arise from the perpetrators and the spectators. Yet it often happens to one who turns and smiles at the duress of another, that he also finds himself nailed. Efforts at extrication increase mirth, uor is the presence of a constable, who is usually employed to attend and preserve free "ingress, egress, and regress," sufficiently awful to deter the offenders.

Scarcely a shop in London that offers a halfpenny plain bun to the purchase of a hungry boy, is without Twelfth-cakes and finery in the windows on Twelfth-day. The gingerbread-bakers-there are not many, compared with their number when the writer was a consumer of their manu-" factured goods,-even the reduced gingerbread-bakers periwig a few plum-buns with sugar-frost to-day, and coaxingly interpolate them among their new made

sixes, bath-cakes, parliament, and ladies' fingers. Their staple-ware has leaves of untarnished dutch-gilt stuck on; their upright cylinder-shaped show-glasses, con taining peppermint-drops, elecampane, sugar-sticks, hard-bake, brandy-balls, and bulls'-eyes, are carefully polished; their lolly-pops are fresh encased, and look as white as the stems of tobacco-pipes; and their candlesticks are ornamented with fillets and bosses of writing paper; or, if the candles rise from the bottom of inverted glass cones, they shine more sparkling for the thorough cleaning of their receivers in the morning.

How to eat Twelfth-cake requires no recipe; but how to provide it, and draw the characters, on the authority of Rachel Revel's "Winter Evening Pastimes," may be acceptable. First, buy your cake. Then, before your visitors arrive, buy your characters, each of which should have a pleasant verse beneath. Next look at your invitation list, and count the number of ladies you expect; and afterwards the number of gentlemen. Then, take as many female characters as you have invited ladies; fold them up, exactly of the

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same size, and number each on the back; taking care to make the king No. 1, and the queen No. 2. Then prepare and tea and coffee to be handed to your visitnumber the gentlemen's characters. Cause ors as they drop in. When all are assembled and tea over, put as many ladies' characters in a reticule as there are ladies present; next put the gentlemen's characters in a hat. Then call on a gentlethey sit, from which each lady is to draw man to carry the reticule to the ladies as one ticket, and to preserve it unopened. Select a lady to bear the hat to the genbe one ticket left in the reticule, and anotlemen for the same purpose. There will ther in the hat, which the lady and gentleman who carried each is to interchange, as having fallen to each. Next, arrange your visitors according to their numbers; the king No. 1, the queen No. 2, and so on. The king is then to recite the verse on his ticket; then the queen the verse on hers; and so the characters are to proceed in numerical order. This done, let the cake and refreshments go round, and hey! for merriment!

They come they come! each blue-eyed sport,
The Twelfth-night king and all his court-

"Tis Mirth fresh crown'd with mistletoe!
Music with her merry fiddles,

Joy" on light fantastic toe,"

Wit with all his jests and riddles,
Singing and dancing as they go.
And Love, young Love, among the rest,
A welcome nor unbidden guest.

Twelfth-day is now only commemorated by the custom of choosing king and queen. "I went," says a correspondent in the Universal Magazine for 1774," to a friend's house in the country to partake of some of those innocent pleasures that constitute a merry Christmas. I did not return till I had been present at drawing king and queen, and eaten a slice of the Twelfthcake, made by the fair hands of my good friend's consort. After tea yesterday, a noble cake was produced, and two bowls, containing the fortunate chances for the different sexes. Our host filled up the tickets; the whole company, except the king and queen, were to be ministers of state, maids of honour, or ladies of the bed-chamber. Our kind host and hostess, whether by design or accident, became king and queen. According to Twelfth day law, each party is to support their character till midnight." The mainte

nance of character is essential to the drawing. Within the personal observation of the writer of these sheets, character has never been preserved. It must be admitted, however, that the Twelfth-night characters sold by the pastrycooks, are either commonplace or gross-when genteel they are inane; when humorous, they are vulgar.

Young folks anticipate Twelfth-night light little hearts. Where, and what is as a full source of innocent glee to their he who would negative hopes of happispring of life? A gentle spirit in the ness for a few short hours in the dayLondon Magazine beautifully sketches a scene of juvenile enjoyment this evening: "I love to see an acre of cake spread out

the sweet frost covering the rich earth below-studded all over with glittering flowers, like ice-plants, and red and green knots of sweetmeat, and hollow yellow

crusted crowns, and kings and queens, and their paraphernalia. I delight to see score of happy children sitting huddled all round the dainty fare, eyeing the cake and each other, with faces sunny enough to thaw the white snow. I like to see the gazing silence which is kept so religiously while the large knife goes its round, and the glistening eyes which feed beforehand on the huge slices, dark with citron and plums, and heavy as gold. And then, when the “Characters" are drawn, is it nothing to watch the peeping delight which escapes from their little eyes? One is proud, as king; another stately, as queen; then there are two whispering grotesque secrets which they cannot contain (those are sir Gregory Goose and sir Tunbelly Clumsy.) The boys laugh out at their own misfortunes; but the little girls (almost ashamed of their prizes) sit blushing and silent. It is not until the lady of the house goes round, that some of the more extravagant fictions are revealed. And then, what a roar of mirth! Ha, ha! The ceiling shakes, and the air is torn. They bound from their seats like kids, and insist on seing Miss Thompson's card. Ah! what merry spite is proclaimed-what ostentatious pity! The little girl is almost in tears; but the large lump of allotted cake is placed seasonably in her hands, and the glass of sweet wine all round' drowns the shrill urchin laughter, and a gentler delight prevails." Does not this make a charming picture?

There is some difficulty in collecting accounts of the manner wherein Twelfthnight is celebrated in the country. In "Time's Telescope," an useful and entertaining annual volume, there is a short reference to the usage in Cumberland, and other northern parts of England. It seems that on Twelfth-night, which finishes their Christmas holidays, the rustics meet in a large room. They begin dancing at seven o'clock, and finish at twelve, when they sit down to lobscouse, and ponsondie; the former is made of beef, potatoes, and onions fried together; and in ponsondie we recognise the wassail or waes-hael of ale, boiled with sugar and nutmeg, into which are put roasted apples,—the anciently admired lambs'-wool. The feast is paid for by subscription: two women are chosen, who with two wooden bowls placed one within the other, so as to leave an opening and a space between

them, go round to the female part of the society in succession, and what one puts into the uppermost bowl the attendant collectress slips into the bowl beneath it. All are expected to contribute something, but not more than a shilling, and they are best esteemed who give most. The men choose two from themselves, and follow the same custom, except that as the gentlemen are not supposed to be altogether so fair in their dealings as the ladies, one of the collectors is furnished with pen, ink, and paper, to set down the subscriptions as soon as received.

If a satirical prophecy in "Vox Graculi," 4to. 1623, may be relied on as authority, it bears testimony to the popularity of Twelfth-night at that period. On the 6th of January the author declares, that "this day, about the houres of 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, yea, in some places till midnight well nigh, will be such a massacre of spice-bread, that, ere the next day at noon, a two-penny browne loafe will set twenty poore folkes teeth on edge. Which hungry humour will hold so violent, that a number of good fellowes will not refuse to give a statute-marchant of all the lands and goods they enjoy, for half-a-crown's worth of two-penny pasties." He further affirms, that there will be "on this night much masking in the Strand, Cheapside, Holbourne, or Fleetstreet."

"The twelve days of Christmas," as the extent of its holidays, were proverbial; but among labourers, in some parts, the Christmas festivities did not end till Candlemas. Old Tusser, in his "Five Hundred Points of good Husbandry," would have the merriments end in six days; he begins January with this advice to the countryman:

When Christmas is ended,

bid feasting adue, Goe play the good husband, thy stock to renue : Be mindful of rearing,

in hope of a gaine, Dame Profit shall give thee

reward for thy paine.

This was the recommendation of prudence tempered by kindness; a desire for diligence in the husbandınan, with an allowance of reasonable pastime to sweeten his labour.

From Naogeorgus, in "The Popish Kingdome," a poem before quoted, and which will be frequently referred to for its lore regarding our ancient customs, it

is to be gathered, that the king of Twelfthnight, after the manner of royalty, appointed his officers. He himself attained his dignity thus:

Then also every householder,

to his abilitie,

Doth make a mightie cake, that may
suffice his companie:
Herein a pennie doth he put,

before it come to fire,
This he divides according as

his householde doth require,
And every peece distributeth,
as round about they stand,
Which in their names unto the poore
is given out of hand:
But who so chaunceth on the peece
wherein the money lies,
Is counted king amongst them all,
and is with showtes and cries
Exalted to the heavens up.
Mr. Fosbroke notices, that "the cake
was full of plums, with a bean in it for
the king, and a pea for the queen, so as
to determine them by the slices. Some-
times a penny was put in the cake, and
the person who obtained it, becoming
king, crossed all the beams and rafters
of the house against devils. A chafing-
dish with burning frankincense was also
lit, and the odour snuffed up by the whole
family, to keep off disease for the year.
After this, the master and mistress went
round the house with the pan, a taper,
and a loaf, against witchcraft."

So far Mr. Fosbroke abridges Naogeorgus's account, which goes on to say, that

- in these dayes beside, They judge what weather all the yeare shall happen and betide:

Ascribing to each day a month, and at this present time,

The youth in every place doe flocke, and all apparel'd fine,

With pypars through the streetes they runne, and singe at every dore.

There cities are, where boyes and gyrles, together still do runne,

About the streete with like, as soone

as night beginnes to come,

And bring abrode their wassel bowles,

who well rewarded bee,

With cakes and cheese, and great good cheare,

and money plenteouslee.

Queen Elizabeth's Progresses by Mr. Nichols, contain an entertainment to her at Sudley, wherein were Melibaus, the king of the Bean, and Nisa, the queen of the Pea.

"Mel. Cut the cake : who hath the beane,

shall be King; and where the peaze is, she shall be Queene.

"Nis. I have the peaze, and must be Queene.

"Mel. I have the beane, and King; 【 must commande."

Pinkerton's "Ancient Scotish Poems," contain a letter from sir Thomas Randolph, queen Elizabeth's chamberlain of the Exchequer, to Dudley lord Leicester, dated from Edinburgh on the 15th January, 1563, wherein he mentions, that Lady Flemyng was "Queen of the Beene" on Twelfth-day in that year: and in Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas, Baby-cake, one of the characters, is attended by "an Usher, bearing a great cake with a bean, and a pease." Herrick, the poet of our festivals, has several allusions to the celebration of this day by our ancestors: the poem here subjoined, recognises its customs with strict adherence to truth, and in pleasant strains of joyousness.

TWELFE-NIGHT, OR KING AND QUEENE,

Now, now the mirth comes
With the cake full of plums,
Where beane's the king of the sport here
Beside, we must know,

The pea also

Must revell, as queene in the court here.
Begin then to chuse,
Who shall for the present delight here,
This night as ye use,
Be a king by the lot,
And who shall not

Be

Twelfe-day queene for the night bere.
Which knawne, let us make
Joy-sops with the cake;

And let not a man then be seen here,
Who unurg'd will not drinke,

To the base from the brink,

A health to the king and the queene here..
Next crowne the bowle ful.
With gentle lambs-wooll;

Adde sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
With store of ale, too;
And thus ye must doe

To make the wassaile a swinger.

Give them to the king
And queene wassailing;
And though with ale ye be whet here ;
Yet part ye from hence,

As free from offence,

As when ye innocent met here.

A citation by Brand represents the ancient Twelfth-night-cake to have been compos ed of flour, honey, ginger, and pepper. The maker thrust in, at random, a small coin as she was kneading it. When baked, it was divided into as many parts as there

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