And why I'm so plump the reason I tell —
Who lives a good life, is sure to live well.
What baron or squire,

Or knight of the shire,

Lives half so well as a holy friar?

After supper, of heaven I dream,

But that is a pullet and clouted cream;
Myself by denial I mortify

With a dainty bit of a warden pie;
I'm clothed in sack cloth for my sin-
With old sack wine I'm lined within;
A chirping cup is my matin song,
And the vesper bell is my bowl, ding, dong.
What baron or squire,

Or knight of the shire,

Lives half as well as a holy friar.

J. O'KEEFE.

Gay go up and gay go down

To ring the bells of London town.

Ding, dong, bell,

Pussy's in the well.

Ring ye the bells, ye young men of the towne, And leave your wonted labors for this day;

Ring ye the bells to make it wear away,

And bonfires make all day,

And daunce about them, and about them sing, That all your woods may answer, and your echoes

ring.

EDMUND SPENCER, Epithalion.

When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound,
To many a youth and many a maid
Dancing in the chequered shade.
MILTON, L'allegro.

Good Queen Anne's birthday,
All bells ringing gay.

God bless the Queen! ring sweet, ye bells!
Swell forth Old England's joy afar;
She's crowned, the exulting cannon tells;
The Queen! God bless the Queen! Hurrah!
CHARLES SWAIN, Coronation Song.

Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire!
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air!

TENNYSON, A Welcome to Alexandra, 1863.

息

On this bell is inscribed in raised letters Robert Earl of Leicester, at Penhurst, 1649, and it has doubtless summoned guests to many a hilarious banquet in the great hall. That very hall where Queen Elizabeth not long before had "disported herself, dancing high and disposedly" as was her wont when her dancing chancellor, Sir Christopher Hatton, led the brawls. On one of her visits to Penhurst, she refurnished her sleeping apartment, as she did not consider it good enough for her. An agreeable guest she must have been.

Chapter XVIII

THE BELLMAN

THE BELLMAN IN LONDON

Civilization made its slowest progress in guarding and lighting the tortuous and dangerous streets. Almost down to the last century the watchman was a feeble old man who "Disturbed your rest to tell you what's o'clock," and showed his lantern to warn thieves of his approach that they might depart in peace, and like Dogberry he might thank God he was rid of a knave.

Lighting the streets devolved on householders, who were ordered to hang out a lantern nightly with a whole lighted candle for the accommodation of foot passengers from Allhallows evening to Candlemas Day. The bellman went his rounds all night with a bell in his hand, and at 'every land's end and ward's end gave warning of fire and candle, and help the poor, and pray for the dead."

66

Thomas Law, Bellman, 1666, distributed this address:

No sooner hath St. Andrew crowned November, But Boreas from the North rings cold December, And I have often heard a many say,