Minor Notes.
Doings of the Calf's Head Club.—In an old newspaper called The Weekly Oracle, of Feb. 1, 1735, is the following curious paragraph:
"Thursday (Jan. 29) in the evening a disorder of a very particular nature happened in Suffolk Street; 'tis said that several young gentlemen of distinction having met at a house there, calling themselves the Calf's Head Club; and about seven o'clock a bonfire being lit up before the door, just when it was in its height, they brought a calf's head to the window dressed in a napkin-cap, and after some huzzas, threw it into the fire. The mob were entertained with strong beer, and for some time hallooed as well as to best; but taking a disgust at some healths which were proposed, grew so outrageous that they broke all the windows, forced themselves into the house, and would probably have pulled it down, had not the guards been sent to prevent further mischief. The damage is computed at some hundred pounds. The guards were posted all night in the street for the security of the neighbourhood."
E. G. Ballard.
Epitaph by Wordsworth.—There is a beautiful epitaph by Wordsworth in Sprawley Church, Worcestershire, to the wife of G. C. Vernon, Esq., of Hanbury. Wordsworth has made the following slight alterations to it, in his published poems: I quote from the one-volume 8vo. edition of Moxon (1845). The first two lines are not on the tablet. The words within brackets are those which appear in the original epitaph:—
"By a blest husband guided, Mary came
From nearest kindred, Vernon her new name;
She came, though meek of soul, in seemly pride
Of happiness and hope, a youthful bride.
O dread reverse! if aught be so which proves
That God will chasten whom he dearly loves,
Faith bore her up through pains in mercy given,
And troubles that [which] were each a step to Heaven.
Two babes were laid in earth before she died;
A third now slumbers at the mother's side;
Its sister-twin survives, whose smiles afford [impart]
A trembling solace to her widow'd lord [her father's heart.]
Reader! if to thy bosom cling the pain
Of recent sorrow combated in vain;
Or if thy cherish'd grief have fail'd to thwart
Time, still intent on his insidious part,
Lulling the mourner's best good thoughts asleep,
Pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep;
Bear with him [those]—judge him [those] gently who makes [make] known
His [their] bitter loss by this memorial [monumental] stone;
And pray that in his [their] faithful breast the grace
Of resignation find a hallow'd place."
Cuthbert Bede, B.A.
Tailor's "Cabbage."—
"The term cabbage, by which tailors designate the cribbed pieces of cloth, is said to be derived from an old word, 'cablesh,' i. e. wind-fallen wood. And their 'hell,' where they store the cabbage, from 'helan,' to hide."
Clericus Rusticus.
Misquotations.—1. Sallust's memorable definition of friendship, as put into the mouth of Catiline (cap. 20.), is quoted in the "Translation of Aristotle's Ethics," in Bohn's Classical Library (p. 241. note h), as the saying of Terence.
2. The Critic of September 1st quotes the "Viximus insignes inter utramque facem" of Propertius (lib. iv. 11. 46.) as from Martial.
3. In Fraser's Magazine for October 1852, p. 461., we find "Quem patente portâ," &c. quoted from Terence instead of Catullus, as it is correctly in the number for May, 1853.
P. J. F. Gantillon, B.A.
The Ducking Stool.—In the Museum at Scarborough, one of these engines is preserved. It is said that there are persons still living in the town, who remember its services being employed when it stood upon the old pier. It is a substantial arm-chair of oak; with an iron bar extending from elbow to elbow, just as the wooden one is placed in child's chair to prevent the occupant from falling forward.
W. J. Bernhard Smith.
Temple.
Watch-paper Inscription.—Akin to dial inscriptions are inscriptions on watch-papers used in the days of our grandfathers, in the outer case of the corpulent watch now a-days seldom seen. I send you the following one, which I read many years since; but as I did not copy the lines, I cannot vouch for their being strictly accurate:
"Onward perpetually moving,
These faithful hands are ever proving
How quick the hours fly by;
This monitory pulse-like beating,
Seems constantly, methinks, repeating,
Swift! swift! the moments fly.
Reader, be ready—for perhaps before
These hands have made one revolution more
Life's spring is snapt—you die!"
F. James.