God save the Queen.
[Copied from the book of Formulæ in the University Registry.
Alfred Rogers,
April 28, 1882.]
1882. The fair still lingers on. Its commercial greatness has long since passed away—ebbed out of existence by slow degrees, resulting from many social and other changes, rather than from any one marked cause. But, as may be expected after six and a half centuries (at least) of notable existence, it dies hard. Three of its features still remain. The horse fair, always famous, was this year greater than for some time past. The onion fair is still associated with Garlick row, while hurdles, gates, and implements of wood are still prominent. Thus traditions cling. In “Æsop Dress’d”—a rare collection of fables by J. Mandeville (4to. 1704, p. 9; should be 33), there appeared the following:
“An ass of stupid memory
Confes’d, that going to Stourbridge Fair,
His back most brok with wooden ware.”
The old associations are, however, rapidly crumbling away.
The fair is still proclaimed by the mayor at the old time of commencing; but the fair is not now held until a fortnight later and only lasts three days. There are points in the Proclamation worthy of note.