"The day that God did prevent
To blow up his king and parliament,"
—is still faintly remembered among us by means of squibs and crackers stealthily discharged by mischievous boys in the streets. The good old system of bonfires—always a most popular mode of rejoicing—would probably not have been abandoned but for the numerous conflagrations it must have occasioned at a time when thatch generally covered our houses. In 1789, the Worcester corporation caused the bellman to cry down bonfires, although previous to that time the expense of providing fuel, and drink to hand round to the happy spectators, had been regularly defrayed out of the civic purse. Last year (1855) the notoriety of the day was partly revived, though on another account—namely, its being the first anniversary of the battle of Inkermann.
"ROYAL OAK DAY"—MAY 29,
is wonderfully shorn of its honours since people have generally taken to read history, and have learned how little reason they have to bless the memory of the Stuarts. The marvellous escape of Charles II, when his pursuers passed under the oak tree in which he was secreted after the battle of Worcester, is now only commemorated in the city which boasts of being "faithful" to its kings whether their memory be odorous or not, by some half-dozen boughs of oak being affixed over as many doorways in different streets.
MOTHERING SUNDAY.
Midlent, or, as it is called in Worcestershire, "Mothering Sunday," is still observed as a minor festival, upon which all the children and grand-children visit their parents, and the pride of the feast is invariably a loin of veal.
ALL FOOLS' DAY.
The first of April, too, is not forgotten by the young fry, as "April fool day;" when all sorts of traps are set to make each other look ridiculous.
PLEDGING.
The old custom of drinking healths is on the decline. In a book of rhymes, published about 1660, in "a catch made before the king's coming to Worcester with the Scottish army," is the following: