called for "wine, mighty wine." Draughts of this were succeeded by potations of rack-punch, while loud calls upon him were unanswered; allegations derogatory to his dignity were noticed by looks of indignation and contempt; "he spoke not, he moved not," till increased throng and uproar raised his indignation, when a person withdrew him from the gardens, put on his cloak, and the Erial retired delighted with his reception.

Perusing the papers on the morrow, and not finding accounts respecting his Vauxhall adventure, he found an advertisement of a song dedicated to the duke of York, printed in blue and white. "They are my colours," said the Erial," they are the colours of an ærial,-the duke is an ærial." Elated by this conception, he bought another new pair of silk stockings, and accomplished another visit to Vauxhall the same evening, where being immediately recognised by some who had seen him the evening before, he was soon surrounded. On this occasion he adventured a challenge, with an offer of 500l. to any one who would match himself against him for beauty. Being pushed and pursued he sprung on the supper-table of a company, to the loss or great damage of his second pair of silks, and went home on foot by daylight, amidst the grins of unappreciating people passing to their labour.

On the night of the juvenile fete, as the duke of Cambridge was to be present with his son, the Erial once more visited Vauxhall. Unhappily, the duke and the young prince were the attracting objects.

Deserted in his utmost need, By those his former fancies fed, the Ærial retired to a box, and, through the medium of the waiters, consoled himself from their beaufets so effectually, that before supper time he was better qualified to represent an attendant in a bacchanal procession, than the celestial character he =assumed. Imagining that certain smiles indicated a deadly jealousy of his superhuman structure, and dreading assassination from the hands of the envious, he manifested his feelings in an undaunted manner, and was overpowered in a scuffle. Being unable to walk from excess of devotion to the rosy deity, he was deposited in one of the cloak rooms, and left to repose on awaking and sallying forth into the gardens he was astonished to find the place deserted; and, for lamp-light, the

No. 47.

glare of the sun. His cloak and purse were not to be found; remonstrance and entreaty were alike vain; he was assured he should have both when they were recoverable, but not then, and he found it convenient to accept the best substitute the place afforded. To be content, where discontent avails not, is a philosophical rudiment, and therefore he philosophically submitted to be assisted by the waiters into a moth-eaten, mouldy, ragged watchman's scarlet frieze cloak, with "R. G. V. H.," denoting "Royal Gardens, Vauxhall,” worked in large worsted letters on the back; and in this attire he wandered, "not unseen," to his dormitory at a few miles distance. The particular compliments he received by the way are not relatable. After a few hours' rest, he made personal application at Vauxhall for his cloak and purse, and both were returned to him, accompanied by an assurance from them that he must not appear there again. Undaunted by so unexpected a return for the patronage he had vouchsafed towards the gardens, and conceiving that the proprietors ought not to sustain the injury his absence would inflict on them, he laid out another pound in a fourth pair of hose, and again, "in silk attire," covered by a cloak, presented himself at the door, but he had scarcely advanced from paying his entrancemoney when constables hurried him out, and he was not allowed to re-enter. This was the last appearance of the Ærial at Vauxhall.

Conceiving that the managers of the theatres would gladly avail themselves of his attractive powers, he habited himself as before described, and announced himself at their doors as "The Arial;" but they were "not at home," nor were they "at home" to his subsequent calls. Such gross inattention to their interests was inconceivable; for it seems he coveted no other remuneration than "to walk across the stage and back again, and receive the plaudits of the audience." He affirms that he appeared on the boards of the Manchester theatre, and that the people hooted because he would not deign to remain long enough for the gratification of their extreme curiosity. Though convinced that no one ever appeared to such advantage as he does, in the dress wherein he has already appeared in public, yet he walks en deshabille on ordinary occasions, lest he should suffer violence from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of the British

ladies, who, according to his own affirmation, are ready to throw themselves at his feet upon the least encouragement. He says he is determined to ally himself to her alone, if she can be found, who knows herself to be a Venus as he knows himself to be an Adonis. He is of opinion that he is "winning each heart and delighting each eye;" and he calls himself "the immortal Mr. L.” It was suggested to him as possible, that as no income resulted from his outgoings, his property might be expended. His answer was to this effect:-"When I am at the last extremity I can marry any lady I please with thirty thousand pounds." If he should find himself mistaken in his conceptions before matters have proceeded so far, those to whom his flights have rendered him a public character will soon forget his extraordinary assumptions, and he will find a common station more conducive to his personal quiet. He is unknown to the writer of this article, who, nevertheless, is so well informed respecting him as to be persuaded that when Mr. L.'s feverish excitement is over, his talents merely require diligent culti vation in a different direction to ensure this. A man is in less danger who thinks too meanly, than he who thinks too highly of himself. It is easier to be comfortable in a lower sphere, than to reach an elevated one and live happy in it.

Letter from the Erial. When this sheet was going to press a letter was received; which, being properly authenticated, is here subjoined, with the words in italics as marked in the original.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
November 16, 1825.

I conceive that nothing but my "death," or at least "the beautiful leg," will atone to the world for my little indiscretions. If you expect me to appeal to the public, I answer, that I have been without father and mother eleven years nearly, though now only twenty-five years old, and measuring five feet two inches and a half, and in the hands of guardians, though not wanting money, · four of whom it took to put me in the watchhouse, and I answer that I would rather be hanged if "the most liberal nation of the earth" wishes it.

You have observed that the company shrieked with laughter and amazement.

Now I say I was the only one wi shrieked with laughter, as I should s another hoax on the public. You mig have spared me the trouble of answent you, if you had not introduced a most immutable picture of my conduct. You have represented me as the individu courting excessive censure or praise; bu I must here be puppy enough to taik 4 general opinion, and say, that notwstanding the pretended christian buru. of me by the newspapers, it still appear by each and every of them that in the end the magistrate had no just cause to hate me. Besides acquiring experience from disappointment, and Mr. Chantry who sent for me, I had a dream which clearly convinced me I should not part with the cast.

I have no occasion to mention the author of the following quotation — "Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew, the dog will have his day." I am, Sir,

Your most obedient servant,
JOSEPH LEEMING.

No. 61, Berwick Street, Soho.

Having inserted this letter here the matter ends, for nothing remains to be

said.

It being within the purpose of the Every-Day Book to observe on the phenomena of the times, Mr. Leeming, as "the Erial," was included, but not unti he had been previously in print from the character he assumed. His present letter speaks for itself. He admits "little" indiscretions: among these "little" ones a large one was, what he terms, his “hoar” on the public; but his visits to the artists are of another character. There exists no feeling towards him, on the part of and he advises him, for his own sake, tɔ the editor of this work, but a kind one; study to be quiet." Happy the man whose wish and care, A few paternal acres bound; Content to breathe his native air,

66

In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with

bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away:
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day:

A. D. 304.

St. Martin.

He is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. By Romish writers he is called "the Great St. Martin, the glory of Gaul." They say that he was born in Lower Hungary, about 316, and becoming a soldier, a beggar requested alms, when having no money he drew his sword, and cutting his cloak into two pieces, gave half to the beggar, and wrapped himself up in the other; whereupon Christ appeared to him the next

* Morning Advertiser, Nov. 15, 1824.

night, in the half he had given away, asked him if he knew it, and said to angels that surrounded him, "Martin has given me this garment." This occasioned him to leave the army and enter the church, and he was made an exorcist by St. Hilary. Turning hermit, he lived on roots and wild herbs, and unawares ate a quantity of hellebore sufficient to kill an unprivileged person. After this, one of his disciples fell ill of a fever, and died suddenly without baptism; "whereupon," says Alban Butler," feeling in himself a divine impulse to work a miracle," he stretched himself upon the body, and prayed till the deceased came to life. She said her soul had been before the divine tribunal, and been sentenced to a dark dungeon ;but that on two angels representing St. Martin was praying for her coming back, she was ordered to be restored to the body and raised to life. "Another time the saint restored to life, in the same manner, a slave who had hanged himself." In 371, he was chosen bishop of Tours, and is said to have lived in a narrow hole in the

side of a rock. Near to it was a chapel with an altar, over a tomb, but St. Martin would, not visit it, because, although the person buried was represented to have been a martyr, he was not assured that the relics were genuine. He went, however, one day with some of his clergy, and prayed for information, whereupon on his left hand, " he saw near him a pale ghost of a fierce aspect, whom he commanded to speak; the ghost told his name, and it appeared that he had been a robber who was executed for his crimes, whom the people honoured as a martyr; none but St. Martin saw him, the rest only heard his voice; he thereupon caused the altar to be removed. After the rectification of this trifling mistake, he went on raising the dead, casting out devils, and receiving revelations; but as he grew older "it cost him more difficulty, and longer prayers, to cast out devils than formerly." He died in 397, and his shrine worked the usual miracles. This account of St. Martin is abstracted from the rev. Alban Butler's life of him.

Martinmas.

A custom anciently prevailed, though generally confined at present to country villages, of killing cows, oxen, swine, &c. at this season, which were cured for the winter, when fresh provisions were seldom or never to be had.

When Easter comes, who knows not than
That veale and bacon is the man?

And Martilmass Beefe doth beare good tacke,
When countrey folke do dainties lacke.

Tusser.

Martlemas beef was beef dried in the chimney, as bacon, and is so called, because it was usual to kill the beef for this provision about the feast of St. Martin.* There is mention of

- dried flitches of some smoked beeve, Hang'd on a writhen wythe since Martin's

Eve.

Hall.

Mr. Brand relates, that rustic families in Northumberland clubbed at Martinmas to buy a cow or other animal; the union for this purchase is called a "mart." After the animal was killed, they filled the entrails with a kind of pudding meat, consisting of blood, suet, groats, &c. which being formed into little sausage links, were boiled and sent about as presents. These are called "black-puddings" from their colour. There is also noticed

a kind of entertainment in Germany, called the "feast of sausages," which was wont to be celebrated with great joy and festivity. The day is a great festival on the continent: new wines then begin to be tasted, and the hours are spent in carousing. An old author says, that the great doings on this occasion almost throughout Europe in his time, are derived from an ancient Athenian festival, observed in honour of Bacchus, upon the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth days of the month Anthesterion, corresponding with our November. Another says, that the eleventh month had a name from the ceremony of" tapping their barrels on it;" when it was customary to make merry. It is likewise imagined by Dr. Stukeley, in his "Itinerary" concerning Martinsal-hill, thus: "I take the name of this hill to come from the merriments among the northern people, called Martinalia, or drinking healths to the memory of St. Martin, practised by our Saxon and Danish ancestors. I doubt not but upon St. Martin's day, or Martinmass, all the young people in the neighbourhood assembled here, as they do now upon the adjacent St. Ann's-hill, upon St. Ann's day." He adds, that "St. Martin's day, in the Norway clogs, (or wooden almanacs) is marked with a goose: for on that day they always feasted with a roasted goose: they say, St. Martin, being elected to a bishoprick, hid himself, (noluit

Tusser Redivivus.

episcopari) but was discovered by that animal. We have transferred the cere mony to Michaelmas."*

Dr. Forster, so often cited, observes, that a medal has lately been struck in France in commemoration of this laudable custom; on one side of which is embossed a goose, and on the reverse occurs the word Martinalia. Relative to the custom of goose-eating, it is further noticed in the "Perennial Calendar," that the festival of St. Martin occurs when geese are in high season. “It is always celebrated with a voracity the the petit carême, when fowls can no more eager, as it happens on the eve of longer be presented on the tables of a A German monk, Martin Schoock, has made it a case of conscience religious age. whether, even on the eve of the little Lent, it be allowable to eat goose: An

liceat Martinalibus anserem comedere" After having dived into the weedy pool of the casuist's arguments, the delighted roast his goose; and thus the goose came devotee emerges with the permission to well as Michaelmas day." to be a standing dish on Martinmas as

dars the celebration of this day In some of the old church calencalled "The Martinalia, a genial feast; wines are tasted of and drawn from the

lees; Bacchus is the figure of Martin."+

Time's Telescope," for 1814, cites some extracts from a little ballad, entitled "Martilmasse Day :"

It is the day of Martilmasse,

Cuppes of ale should freelie passe ;
What though Wynter has begunne
To push downe the Summer sunne,
To our fire we can betake,
And enjoye the crackling brake,
Never heedinge Wynter's face
On the day of Martilmasse.
Some do the citie now frequent,
Where costlie shows and merriment
Do weare the vaporish eveninge out
With interlude and revellinge rout;
Such as did pleasure Englande's queene,
When here her Royal Grace was seen;
Yet will they not this day let passe,
The merrie day of Martilmasse.
When the dailie sportes be done,
Round the market crosse they runne,
Prentis laddes and gallant blades
Dancing with their gamesome maids,
Till the Beadel, stout and sowre,
Shakes his bell, and calls the houre;
Then farewell ladde and farewell lasse
To the merry night of Martilmasse..