Whilst on the subject of “bells,” perhaps you can mention how “hand bells came into the church, and for what purpose.” We have a set in this church.
I am, &c.
H. H. N. N.
The editor will be glad to receive elucidations of either of these usages.
Accounts of local customs are particularly solicited from readers of the Every-Day Book in every part of the country.
To the notice of this day in the Perennial Calendar, the following stanzas are subjoined by Dr. Forster. They are evident “developments” of phrenological thought.
VERSES ON A SKULL
In a church-yard.
O empty vault of former glory!
Whate’er thou wert in time of old,
Thy surface tells thy living story,
Tho’ now so hollow, dead, and cold,
For in thy form is yet descried
The traces left of young desire;
The Painter’s art, the Statesman’s pride,
The Muse’s song, the Poet’s fire;
But these, forsooth, now seem to be
Mere lumps on thy periphery.
Dear Nature, constant in her laws,
Hath mark’d each mental operation,
She ev’ry feeling’s limit draws
On all the heads throughout the nation,
That there might no deception be;
And he who kens her tokens well,
Hears tongues which every where agree
In language that no lies can tell—
Courage—Deceit—Destruction—Theft—
Have traces on the skullcap left.