“Here, Jack, take a little out of my bottle,
And let it run down thy throttle;
If thou be not quite slain,
Rise, Jack, and fight again.”
Easter mumming is now rapidly becoming obsolete, and at present amounts to nothing more entertaining than the recital of a few weak, almost meaningless, rhymes, by, usually, five young boys, decorated with ribbons and coloured paper, and supposed to represent Lord Nelson, a Jack-Tar, a Lovely Youth, Old Toss-pot, and Old Bessy Branbags.
“Lifting at Easter” was an old-established practice, existing in the villages, of hoisting individuals in the air, either in a chair or by any other means that might be convenient, until they purchased their release by payment of a forfeit, generally some small coin. On Ascension-day the parochial schoolmaster conducted his pupils, armed with peeled willow wands, round the limits of the parish, and each pupil struck the various boundary marks with his stick as he passed them. All-Hallows’ E’en was the time when the young people tested the durability of love or friendship by burning nuts:—
“Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame,
And to each nut I gave a sweetheart’s name:
This with the loudest bounce, me sore amazed,
That in a flame of brightest colour blazed;