in Shakspeare's time; and Greene, in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier, has this passage: Some have smiled and said, rue was called herbe grace, which, though they scorned in their youth, they might wear in their age, and that it was never too late to say miserere.—Malone and Henley, in Steevens's Shakspeare. In Richard II., the gardener, speaking of the Queen, says:— Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, And, in the Winter's Tale, Perdita says: Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Rue is sometimes worn in a wreath, Thus, Heylin tells us that in 1180, Bernhard of Anhalt, Duke of Saxony, desiring the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa to have some difference added to the ducal coat (before only barry sable and or) to distinguish him and his successors from those of the former house, the Emperor took a chaplet of rue, which he had then upon his head, and threw it across his buckler or escutcheon of arms, which was presently painted thereon. The saving, salubrious, and antiseptic qualities of Rue are recorded among the remains of our olden botany, and the medicine practised by the religious orders. Ancient monkish lines attribute many virtues to Rue. It possesses powerful stimulant, antispasmodic, and tonic properties; but its improper employment internally has produced serious results. In company with rosemary, rue has been used from time immemorial as an emblem of remembrance and grace on account of its evergreen foliage.* The Cupboard. The word cupboard now signifies, by corruption, a closed case; but, originally, cupboards had no doors. Stow tells of one displayed at the marriage-feast of Prince Arthur, in the palace of the Bishop of London, "five stages in height, being triangled, the which was set with plate valued at 12007.: and in the other chamber, where the Princes dined, was a cupboard of gold plate, garnished with stones and pearls, valued above 20,000l." When Cardinal Wolsey entertained the French Ambassadors at Hampton Court, in 1528, two banqueting rooms were thrown open, (the company consisting of 280 persons,) in each of which a cupboard extended along the whole length of the apartment, piled on the top with plate. When Sebastian Giustinian was entertained at Greenwich, by Henry VIII., he seems to have suspected that the plate * Mr. R. S. Charnock; Notes and Queries, 2nd S. No. 50. was silver-gilt, and not gold. In the present day silver-gilt is often termed gold plate. Mediæval Furniture. The great encouragement in the present day of mistaken and clumsy imitations of medieval styles of furniture is a symptom of the decline of taste in ornament. Every age of this country has been marked by a style in furniture which, whether good or bad, had, at least, a distinct character of some degree of originality, down to the present century, which seems destined to leave behind it a confusion of styles, which will be distinguished only from those they mimic by the blunders that are unavoidable in all attempts at literal imitation in Art, or even in manufactures.-Leslie's Handbook, p. 122. The Costermonger. Properly Costard-monger, was originally a seller of costards, a large kind of apple, very common, or, as Drayton calls it, "the wilding costard." The costermongers kept stalls, which, at night, were lit by the candle in a paper lantern, centuries since. Costermongers seem to have been frequently Irish. Ben Jonson, in his Alchemist, says: "her father was an Irish costermonger;" and in another old play," in England, all the costermongers are Irish." They were usually noisy, whence old Morose, in Epicene, is said to swoon at the voice of one; their bawling was proverbial. They, in time, became general fruit-sellers; but the costard-monger in Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, cries only pears. It appears that there are about 50,000 of these dealers in London; that about 10,000 of them are married, and have an average of five children each; so that if we add 50,000 children, 10,000 wives, and 50,000 others, we find that the number of persons depending on this street-trade amounts to 110,000. Flambeaux. The extinguishers for the links carried by the attendants on the chairs of the wealthy diners-out still remain in Grosvenor-square, and few of the streets of May Fair. One of the latest to use these lights was the Dowager Marchioness of Salisbury, who died in 1835: "she always went to Court in a sedan-chair, and at night her carriage was known by the flambeaux of the footmen."-(Raikes's Diary.) In Gay's spirited mock-heroic Trivia, we see the flambeau- or linkmen of the last century-where he cautions the pedestrian against the dangers of Lincoln's-Inn-fields : Though thou art tempted by the linkman's call, In the mid-way he'll quench the flaming brand, Spilling the Salt. In Popular Errors Explained and Illustrated, p. 145, the omen of letting Salt fall is referred to the "sacred and sacrificial character of Salt in early times;" and Sir Thomas Browne attributes it to Salt being the "symbol of friendship," which, before other service, was offered to guests. The subject is thus playfully handled in the British Apollo, pp. 175-177. A Querist has thrown down the Saltcellar at dinner, and thus speaks of his enraged spouse Like Billingsgate fury, Doth cause or predict no less. To this the reply is : Why spilling of salt Is esteem'd such a fault, Let the salt-cellar tumble before 'em. Were the whims and the fancies, &c. Dining with Duke Humphrey. This cant phrase is thus explained in the British Apollo, p. 231. To our Sixth Henry, that great Peer Such as walk'd dinnerless the streets, To please themselves how they had far'd, This tomb was in the nave of Old St. Paul's, and was unaccountably called "Duke Humphrey's Tomb," for it contained the remains of John Beauchamp, son of Guy, Earl of Warwick. Duke Humphrey's Tomb is in St. Alban's Abbey church. Goldsmith has embellished this old notion in his account of St. James's Park, which was one of his favourite resorts. He says: "If a man be splenetic, he may every day meet companions on the seats in St. James's Park, with whose groans he may mix his own, and pathetically talk of the weather."--(Essays.) The strolling player takes a walk in St. James's Park, "about the hour at which company leave it to go to dinner. There were but few in the walks; and those who stayed, seemed by their looks rather more willing to forget that they had an appetite, than gain one."-(Essays.) And dinnerless, Jack Spindle mends his appetite by a walk in the Park. "Lady-bird, fly away home." There is a familiar rhyme connected with the pretty little insect, the cow-lady or lady-bird, which is repeated by children, if one of them happens to settle on the hand, to induce it to take flight; if it does not obey the command, it is thrown into the air. Its antiquity may be inferred from the extent of its circulation on the Continent: Halliwell, in his Popular Rhymes, says that the "variations of this familiar song belong to the vernacular literature of England, Germany, Denmark, and Sweden." The version most prevalent in England is : Cow-lady, cow-lady, fly away home, Your house is on fire, your children are gone; All but one, and that's little John, And he lies under the grindle-stone. This simple ditty supplied the opening of the Christmas pantomime at the Haymarket Theatre, 1860-1, in which the scenes and incidents were produced with much taste, ingenuity, and splendour, by Mr. Buckstone, the admirable comedian and lessee of the theatre. Dad and Daddy. The childish name for father is nearly the same in a variety of northern languages. Todd observes: "It is remarkable, that in all parts of the world, the word father, as first taught to children, is compounded of a and t, or the kindred letter d differently placed." I was never so bethumpt with words Since I first called my brother's father dad.-King John. The names of parents, as distinguished in the three different classes of society, are shown in the following rude lines; which give also the various names used for the same kind of food in the progressive stages of society: Dad, mam, and porridge; Father, mother, and broth; Pa, ma, and soup.-Miss Baker's Northamptonshire Glossary. Sing Old Rose, and burn the Bellows." The origin of this phrase is thus solved in the British Apollo, 4th ed., vol. iii. 1740: In good King Stephen's days, the Ram, An ancient inn at Nottingham, Was kept, as our wise father knows, Met there, d'ye see, in sanguine hope, And the cold blades to dance and spring; They grew as warm as were their wishes: Cried, "Sing old Rose and burn the bellows." Izaak Walton, in his Angler, makes the Hunter, in the second chapter, propose that they shall sing "Old Rose," which is presumed to refer to the ballad, "Sing Old Rose, and burn the Bellows," of which much trouble has been taken, in vain, to find a copy. Rose was the son of John Rose living in Bridewell, London, and who is said by Stow to have invented a lute early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth: he is also thought to have been "Rose, the old viole-maker." Concerts of viols were the usual musical entertainments after the practice of singing madrigals grew into disuse. "Where Rosemary grows, there Woman reigns." This olden belief is thus explained in the British Apollo, 4th ed. vol. iii. 1740:-"Rosemary is held an extraordinary thing to fortify the brain, strengthen the nerves, and recover lost speech, which last virtue renders it highly valuable among the female sex: and since woman governs through the power of her tongue, it is no wonder she takes care to cherish that herb, that it may afford her such a sovereign assistance, in case of a failure." "As sure as God's in Gloucestershire." When the Romish faith was universally received in England, Gloucestershire was, more than all the other counties, filled with convents, nunneries, and such like houses, dedicated to God's service; who, because his influence, it was believed, shone more brightly there than elsewhere, was imagined by the common people, more immediately conversant with the men of Gloucestershire than any other people. "Under the Rose." This phrase, implying strict secresy, is thus explained in the British Apollo, p. 920: You must know, sir, the Rose was an emblem of old, As a warning, lest when with a frankness men scoft At their neighbour, their lord, their fat priest, or their nation, |