Merrie England

IN THE OLDEN TIME.

INTRODUCTION.

YOUTH is the season of ingenuousness and enjoyment, when we desire to please, and blush not to own ourselves pleased. At that happy period there is no affectation of wisdom; we look only to the bright and beautiful: we inquire not whether it be an illusion; it is sufficient that fairy land, with its flowers of every hue, is the path on which we tread. To youth succeeds manhood, with its worldly prudence: then we are taught to take nothing, not even happiness, upon trust; to investigate until we are lost in the intricacies of detail; and to credit our judgment for what is due only to our coldness and apathy. We lose all sympathy for the past; the future is the subject of our anxious speculation; caution and re

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serve are our guardian angels; and if the heart still throb with a fond emotion, we stifle it with what speed we may, as detrimental to our interests, and unworthy our new-born intelligence and philosophy. A short acquaintance with the world will convince the most sanguine that this stage is not the happiest; that ambition and mercenary cares make up the tumultuous scene; and though necessity compel a temporary submission, it is good to escape from the toils, and breathe a purer air. This brings us to another period, when reflection has taught us self-knowledge, and we are no longer overwise in our own esteem. Then returns something of the simplicity that characterised our early days. We welcome old friends; have recourse to old amusements, and the fictions that enchained our youthful fancy resume their wonted spell.

We remember the time when just emerging from boyhood, we affected a disdain for the past. We had put on the man, and no urchin that put on for the first time his holiday suit, felt more inexpressible self-complacency. We had roared at pantomime, and gaped with delight at the mysteries of melodrame-but now becoming too sober to be amused, "puerile !" "ridiculous!" were the critical anathemas that fulminated from our newlyimbibed absolute wisdom! It might be presump

tion to say that we have since grown wiser; certain it is, we are become less pleased with ourselves, and consequently more willing to be pleased.

Gentle Reader, we are old enough to have enjoyed, and young enough to remember many of the amusements, wakes, and popular drolleries of Merrie England that have long since submitted to "the tooth of time and razure of oblivion." Like Parson Adams, we have also been a great traveller — in our books! Reversing the wellknown epigram,

"Give me the thing that's pretty, smart, and new: All ugly, old, odd things, I leave to you,"

we have all our life been a hunter after oddities. We have studied attentively the past. For the future we have been moderately solicitous; there being so many busy economists to take the unthankful task off our hands. We have lost our friend rather than our joke, when the joke has been the better of the two; and have been free of discourse where it has been courteously received, preferring (in the cant of pompous ignorance, which is dear at any price!) to make ourselves "cheap,” rather than be set down as exclusive and unkind. Disappointments we have had, and sorrows, with ample experience of the world's ingratitude. But

life is too short to harbour enmities; and to be resentful is to be unhappy. This may have cast a transient shade over our lucubrations, which let thy happier humour shine upon and dispel! Wilt thou accept us for thy Cicerone through a journey of strange sights? the curiosities of nature, and the whimsicalities of art. We promise thee faster speed than steam-boat and railroad: for thou shalt traverse the ground of two centuries in two hours! With pleasant companions by the way,

free from the perils of fire and flood,

"Fancy, like the finger of a clock,

Runs the great circuit, and is still at home."

"Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale ?" was the admirable reply of Sir Toby Belch to Malvolio when he would have marred his Christmas1 merrymaking with Sir Andrew and the Clown. And how beautiful is Olivia's reply to the self-same precisian when the searching apophthegms of the

1 Christmas being the season when Jack Frost commonly takes us by the nose, the diversions are within doors, either in exercise, or by the fire-side. Viz. a game at blind-man's-buff, puss-in-the-corner, questions and commands, hoop-and-hide; stories of hobgoblins, Tom-pokers, bull-beggars, witches, wizards, conjurors, Doctor Faustus, Friar Bacon, Doctor Partridge, and such-like horrible bodies, that terrify and delight! "O you merry, merry souls, Christmas is a-coming: We shall have flowing bowls, Dancing, piping, drumming.

Delicate minced pies,

To feast every virgin;

Capon and goose likewise,

Brawn, and dish of sturgeon.