his head kept steadie by being in the corner, and his hand grasping the rail. And soe spying Allen did quicklie thrust his staff behind Dame Ballard, to give him a grievous prick upon the hand. Whereupon Mr Tomkins did spring up much above the floor, and with terrible force strike his hand against the wall, and also, to the great wonder of all, prophainlie exclaim in a loud voice: "Buss the woodchuck!" he dreaming, as it seemed, that a woodchuck had seized and bit his hand. But on comeing to know where he was, and the great scandall he had committed, he seemed much abashed, but did not speak. And I think he will not soone againe go to sleepe in meeting. The women may sometimes sleep and none know it, by reason of their enormous bonnets. Mr Whiting does pleasantly say that from the pulpit, he does seem to be preaching to stacks of straw, with men jotting here and there among them.'

The duty of dog-whipping was not confined to the sterner sex; for the churchwarden's accounts at Barnsley show that 'Richard Hodgson's wife' received two shillings for discharging that duty in 1647.

An entry in the churchwarden's book of the Bolton parish church records that in 1654 there was 'paid to sexton for whipping the dogs, 6s. 8d.'; a much larger sum than was awarded to the official at Forest Hill, near Oxford, named Thomas Mills, who received only one shilling for his dog-whipping duties in 1694. In 1659, Richard Dovey of Farmcote bequeathed a sum which produced eight shillings a year to be paid to a poor man for acting as sluggard-waker and dog-whipper at the church of Claverley in Shropshire. There are similar provisions for the exclusion of dogs from, and preserving order in church in the parishes of Chislet in Kent, and Peterchurch in Herefordshire. At the former place, ten shillings is paid annually for about two acres of land, which is known as 'Dog-whipper's Marsh.' Eight shillings was the salary paid at East Whitton, Yorkshire, for the dog-whipper.

From the register of Kirkby-Wharfe, Grimston, near Tadcaster, we gather that three shillings was the amount which the churchwardens paid as the annual salary of the dog-whipper in 1705 and in 1706; whilst in 1711 there was paid to Thomas Pawson for awakening those who sleep in church and for whipping dogs out of it, '0:4:0.' One of the parish books of Croft in Lincolnshire records that seven shillings and sixpence was paid for dogs wipping' in 1718. We find from the Castleton parish records that the salary of the sluggard-waker in 1722 was ten shillings. John Rudge, on the 17th April 1725, bequeathed to the parish of Trysull, Staffordshire, twenty shillings a year, that a poor man might be employed to go about the church during sermon and keep the people awake; also to keep dogs out of church. For his wages, the dogwhipper at South Wingfield church received one

shilling and eightpence in 1728; whilst for 'whipping dogs' at Burnley during the same year four shillings was paid. 'For waking sleepers' at Barton-on-Humber, one 'Brocklebank' received two shillings in 1740. The parishioners of Prestwich agreed that thirteen shillings a year be given to George Grimshaw, of Rooden-lane, for the time being, and a new coat, not exceeding twenty shillings, every other year, for his pains in wakening sleepers in the church, whipping out dogs, keeping the children quiet and orderly, and keeping the pulpit and church walls clean.'

In the churchwarden's accounts of Sutton-onthe-Hill, Derbyshire, is the following resolution, under date July 1, 1754: 'Samuel Lygoe shall have five shillings a year for the whiping of the dogs out of the church on all Sundays and other days on which their is divine service, also he is to prevent any one sleeping in the church by wakeing them with a white wand.' At Hayfield in Derbyshire the dog-whipper received seven shillings in 1783. While at Kirton-inLindsey, the sum of six shillings and eightpence was set apart as the salary for the dog-whipper in 1817.

The sluggard-waker was known at Warrington as the bobber.' A very masculine kind of woman, named Betty Finch, occupied this position at Holy Trinity Church in 1810. She is said to have walked majestically along the aisles during the service, armed with a long stick like a fishing-rod, which had a 'bob' fastened to the end of it. When she detected any one either sleeping or talking, she gave them a 'nudge' with her official implement. Her son used to

sing:

My father's a clerk;
My sister's a singer;
My mother's the bobber;
And I am a ringer.

Truly, an official, if not an officious family. Between thirty and forty years ago, one of the churchwardens or apparitors of Acton church in Cheshire used to go round the church during divine service with a long wand in his hand; and if any of the congregation were asleep, they were instantly awoke by a tap on the head with this staff of office. A similar usage existed at Dunchurch. A person bearing a stout wand, shaped like a hayfork at the end, stepped stealthily up and down the nave and aisle, and whenever he saw an individual asleep, he touched him so effectually that the spell was broken-this being sometimes done by fitting the fork to the nape of the neck. A writer states that on one occasion he watched as the sluggard-waker mounted with easy steps into the galleries of that church. At the end of one of them there sat in the front seat a young man who had much the appearance of a farmer, with his mouth open, and his eyes closed-a perfect picture of repose. The official marked him as his own; and having fitted his fork to

Journal

the nape of the sleeper's neck, he gave him such a push that, had he not been used to such visitations, he would probably have produced an ejaculation highly inconvenient on such an occasion. But no; all seemed quietly to acquiesce in the usage; and whatever else they might be dreaming of, they certainly did not dream of any infringement upon the liberties of the subject; nor did they think of applying for a summons on account of the assault.

A beadle in another church is described as going round the sacred edifice during service time carrying a long staff, at one end of which was a fox's brush, and at the other a knob. With the former he gently tickled the faces of the female sleepers; whilst on the heads of their male compeers he bestowed with the knob a smart knock, which roused them to a sense of their position.

Mr J. C. Cox tells us that 'in the vestry of the church of Baslow, Derbyshire, there still remains the weapon of the ancient parish functionary, of whom we read in so many churchwardens' accounts in almost every county of England-the dog-whipper. It was his duty to whip the dogs out of church, and generally to look after the orderly behaviour of both bipeds and quadrupeds during divine service. The whip in question is a stout lash, some three feet in length, fastened to a short ash stick, with leather bound round the handle. It is said that there are those yet living in the parish who can remember the whip being used. We believe it to be a unique curiosity, as we cannot hear of another parish in which the whip is still extant.'

There is, we understand, still in existence in the church of Clynnog Fawr in North Wales an instrument for dragging dogs out of church, which has been described as a long pair of 'lazy tongs' with sharp spikes fixed at the ends.

VALENTINE STRANGE

A STORY OF THE PRIMROSE WAY.

CHAPTER XII.—'MARY,' SAID HIRAM MEDITATIVELY, 'I'VE MADE A DISCOVERY.'

Is the days when Athens was a fairy city, when Duke Theseus, who governed it, was in love with Hippolyta queen of the Amazons, and Hermia, loving Lysander, was beloved by Demetrius, even Signor Bottom had his tender passages. And whilst gentlemen owning broad acres and living in country mansions in these later days were perturbed by Love's doings, even an omnibus cad might feel his smart. The whole round globe is impartially governed. However humiliating it may seem to the devoutly constitutional mind, royal toes have been plagued with corns and crowned heads with toothache; and at the very hour when Royalty has gone limping, or with swollen cheek awry, the merry goatherd and his tattered lass have played for kisses, like Cupid and Campaspé in the ballad. Love, monarch of hearts, all hail! Thou levellest men, not as Envy would, by pulling down the lofty, but by lifting all to equal heights, making a goatherd as happy

as a king, and an omnibus cad as blest as a country gentleman.

Hiram, on rare holidays, was a sight worth seeing. All the sartorial art of the East could do was done for him. In summer-time, a white hat; a white waistcoat; a grass-green scarf, whereon a poet so minded might have written a ballad; a nosegay at the button-hole; white gaiters, in spotless contrast with the polish of his shoesthese were his signs of holiday. In winter, he affected a more sombre glory, and his dark overcoat bore a collar of sham Astrakhan. His scarf was of some subdued crimson inclining towards maroon; his gloves were edged with fur at the wrists; and the natty walking-cane of summer days was exchanged for an umbrella. A chain of some metal, which he who had faith enough might take for gold, crossed the white waistcoat, or lay outside the furred overcoat, according to the season. On these days of splendour, few and far between, Hiram would arise early in the morning, and would be heard cheerfully whistling whilst he went deftly about certain household work, taken upon himself within a week of his settlement in his new lodgings. Poor Mrs Martial might well have fancied at first that some Norwegian troll had by good hap strayed into Whitechapel, and assumed the guardianship of her kitchen. Every morning, Hiram made it as neat as a new pin, lit the fire, polished the copper kettle, black-leaded the hobs and the grate, varnished his own boots, washed and dressed, made tea, took his own early breakfast, and was gone before the household was astir. It was only on holidays that Hiram had let loose that mellow whistle; and so, since holidays were so few, the little household had only heard it twice or thrice. But one heart had begun to beat at it. When Hiram came home at midnight, one little head would stir upon the pillow, and in the dark, two pallid cheeks grew rosy for an instant as the stealthy footstep of the late comer passed up the stair. Was ever lodger so helpful and so unexacting? Did ever omnibus conductor pay his rent so punctually, since omnibuses first began to run in London highways?

Why should the little milliner's heart so beat at the cheerful tones of Hiram's mellow whistle? Why? Oh, undiscerning querist, not to guess that, by some occult arrangement, her holiday was made to chime with his. And what a difference the letting of the lodgings made! eminent Atlas

The

I know not whose; his own, perhaps, for he once repeated to me a balladwrote verse once upon a time, and wrote it gracefully-and the burden of the ballad was, What is a pound?' What is a pound when you can afford to spend it on a dinner? What is a penny when it stands between you and hunger? A pound? You may spend an evening at the Opera by means of it. You may live on it in London for a fortnight. It may make all

the difference between slow starvation for a

month, and plenty for the same period. And this last was just the difference it made each month for Mrs Martial and her daughter. Hiram never admitted by word or glance that he knew this; but he knew it well. The poor spare room had never been let until he took it, and he came to the house like a lean American angel, making the physical conditions of life just bearable to its

inmates, and giving them both heart enough to bear more troubles than his coming left to them.

'Now, Missis Martial, ma'hm,' said Hiram, one cheerful morning, when the air was crisp even in London, and the sunlight golden, 'where air we goin'?' He was particularly gorgeous that morning, with a bit of crimson silk handkerchief peeping from his breast-pocket, and a pair of buff-coloured dogskin gloves dangling in his left hand. Mrs Martial looked at Mary. Mary looked down, and blushed a little, without knowing why; and Hiram, with a polite flourish, bowed to her, and observed to her mother: 'We must go, ma'hm, where these attractions may be seen. Át that, Mary's blush deepened, and the care-worn mother smiled timidly. I should like to see your Tower of London, ma'hm,' said Hiram, 'if I might suggest, an' if you air not tired of it.'

'Nor I,' said Mary. 'Ladies,' said Hiram, 'you surprise me.'-They felt almost guilty beneath his glance of wonder, and explained that Londoners know little of the sights of London, leaving them for the most part to the exploration of country visitors.-"Your Tower of London,' said Hiram, 'is perhaps as inter-estin' as any monument in the Old World. It is chokeful of objects which air hallowed by the touch of history. It is interwove with the most remarkable associations of your mo-narchical institootions.' He spoke with so much severity, that they decided to wipe out their reproach at once, and set forth; Hiram giving an arm to each, and piloting them along the quieter streets with mingled grace and grandeur. Coming upon busy thoroughfares, this comfortable order was perforce abandoned, though Hiram still kept Mary's arm within his, probably with a view to instruct her, with the more convenience, in the history of the Tower. Reaching that stately edifice in course of time, they were parcelled off with other visitors, and then huddled through it, after the senseless manner of the place, by a venerable beef-eater, with whom much familiarity with its contents had bred contempt, and who was as interested and as interesting as a parrot might have been. It was not his fault, poor old fellow, He had fought for his country, and the leave to go through this dull routine was his reward; and the Tower was a quiet haven to him, after a life in camp and barrack and the tented field of war. Hiram was severely historical during the hurried gabbling run the veteran gave his party; but I fancy that for one moment the present drew him from the past. Visitors to the Tower know one darksome dungeon-a mere black-hole in the wall, where one of the noblest of English spirits sighed itself slowly towards heaven in pious resignation, through weary years of undeserved imprisonment. It was here-if our surmise be true-that Hiram's interest in history momentarily ceased. He and Mary entered this darksome dungeon together, and were alone there for the space of perhaps thirty seconds. And when they emerged, Mary's hair and bonnet were, by the merest trifle, disarranged, and she was blushing; whilst Mr Search's hat was the least thing on one side,

and a lurking smile of satisfaction was in his eyes, though his features bore the impress of an imperturbable gravity. Perhaps a careful observer might have noticed after this a certain air of proprietorship on Hiram's part, a way of disposing of Mary's arm, for instance, as though, having kissed her in that dungeon-if he really did kiss her he had sealed her for his own. Mr Search talked a great deal; but he said wonderfully little about himself or his own sentiments; and yet he and the little maiden seemed to understand each other perfectly. Once started, they seemed to be indefatigable as sightseers; and after a rest, they set out for the British Museum. Arrived there, what made Mrs Martial pause outside the Egyptian court, whilst the young people went in together? Perhaps her excuse of fatigue was true, though Hiram had brought them all the way in a four-wheeled cab, as though he had been a millionaire. Anyway, Hiram and Mary went in, and found themselves alone in that solitude of eld; and there, undismayed by the presence of the grave Egyptian faces, Hiram repeated the experiment first attempted in the Tower dungeon. They sat upon the base of a pedestal on which stands the vast presentment of a head, deity or hero. Beneath the plaited stone beard, a yard square

Cheops might have known the face-the little London milliner and her Yankee lover sat and talked together. Maybe Egyptian lad and lass made love on such a pedestal, and found it a pretty pastime, before blind Homer begged and sang through Greece.

'Mary,' said Hiram meditatively, 'I've made a discovery. Bus-conductin' is not the way to fortune. Taint even one o' the ways, an' I shall have to shelve it. Same time, it's reg'lar work, an' brings in reg'lar money, an' I don't want to be throwed loose again. When I was in Boston, I used sometimes to get a piece o' work in a printin'office p'r'aps two days a week. While I was at it, I used to earn as much as I do now in a week; but workin' by flashes, an' idlin' three parts of the time, it was like tryin' to warm your house with gunpowder. An' I don't want to do that. I want to keep the fire burnin' steady, an' burnin' always; not to have, now a flare, an' now nothin' but the smoke. So I can't throw over what I've got till somethin' else turns up.'

To this sensible view of things, Mary gave complete adhesion; and they sat and discussed the future. Or rather Hiram discussed the future, and Mary listened, believing in him. Mrs Martial, sitting outside, had her own thoughts. She knew the situation and accepted it with some natural reluctance. Mr Search was kind; Mr Search was honest and gentle and manly; but if things had gone otherwise than they had, she might have looked higher for her daughter. Meantime, Hiram had not even seemed to think of marriage except as connected with fortune; and he was so confident of getting on in the world, that he inspired both the women-folk with his own certainties. When he and Mary had settled what was to be by their own desires, like people who make much more noise in the world, they strayed back from the stony remnants of old Egypt, and Hiram took the ladies to dinner. In the evening, they went to the play, and Hiram chose for them Mr Dillon's once celebrated performance of Belphegor,