"yesterday, according to annual custom, a number of persons went into the fields, and bathed their faces with the dew on the grass, under the idea that it would make them beautiful." To this day, there is a resort of the fair sex, every May morning, to Arthur's Seat, near Edinburgh, for the same purpose. Mr. Pepys makes this entry in his Diary My wife away to Woolwich, in order to a little air, and to lie there to-night, and so to gather May-dew to-morrow morning, which Mrs. Turner hath taught her is the only thing to wash her face with." Scott, in his "Discovery of Witchcraft," observes,-"To be delivered from witches, they hang in their entries (among other things) hay-thorn, otherwise white-thorn, gathered on May-day." Gay's "Shepherd's Week" describes another " quaint" superstition connected with this festival. Last May-day fair, I searched to find a snail, I seized the vermin; home I quickly sped, Oh! may this wondrous omen lucky prove, A description of the festive customs still, or within these few years, remaining on May-day, in different parts of the kingdom, would occupy a number of this Magazine; and, of course, cannot, consequently, be given: yet our "Year Book" would be very incomplete without a brief account of some of the principal of them. There was formerly a practice of making fools on this day, similar to that which obtains on the first of April The deluded were called May-goslings. At Lynn, in Norfolk, the May garlands are made of two hoops of the same size fixed transversely, and attached to a pole or staff, with the end through the centre, and parallel to the hoops; bunches of flowers, interspersed with evergreens, are tied round the hoops, from the interior of which festoons of blown birds' eggs are usually sus pended, and long strips of various coloured ribands are also pendant from the top. A doll, full dressed, of proportionate size, is seated in the centre, thus exhibiting an humble representation of Flora, surrounded by the fragrant emblems of her consecrated offerings." These garlands are carried about the town in all directions, each with an attendant group of "juveniles," who blow, in deafening concert, the horns of bulls and cows. Each garland is subsequently dismounted from the staff, and suspended across a court or lane, where the amusement of throwing balls over it, from one to another, generally terminates the day. May-garlands, with dolls, are carried at Northampton by the neighbouring villagers. In Huntingdonshire, the children suspend a sort of crown of hoops, wreathed and ornamented with flowers, ribands, handkerchiefs, necklaces, silver spoons, &c., at a considerable height above the road, by a rope, extending from chimney to chimney of the cottages, and attempt, as at Lynn, to fling their balls over it from side to side, singing, and begging halfpence from the passengers. A doll, or larger figure, sometimes makes an appendage in some side nook." The money collected is afterwards spent in a tea-drinking, with cakes, &c. At Cambridge, the children formerly had a similar "maulkin," before which they set a table, having wine on it, and begged money, with the supplication, "Pray remember the poor May-lady." As lately as last May-day, a May-pole was set up in a meadow behind the College walks, and the games were excellent. A Maid Marian figured among the dancers, who footed it merrily, till sunset, to the fiddle's jovial sound. "At Oxford," says Aubrey, "the boys do blow cows' horns and hollow canes all night; and on May-day the young maids of every parish carry about garlands of flowers, 66 which afterwards they hang up in their churches." In this city, also, at the hour of five on May-day morning, the choristers of the College of St. Mary Magdalene assemble on the top of the chapel tower, and sing a Latin hymn, in lieu of a requiem, which, before the Reformation, was performed in the same place for the soul of Henry VII. A singular custom used to be annually observed on Mayday by the boys of Frindsbury, and the neighbouring town of Stroud. They met on Rochester bridge, where a skirmish ensued between them. "This combat," Brand remarks, "probably derived its origin from a drubbing received by the monks of Rochester, in the reign of Edward I." At Horncastle, in Lincolnshire, the youths and maidens used to come marching up to the May-pole with wands wreathed with cowslips, which they there struck together in wild enthusiasm, and scattered the flowers in a shower around them. At Padstow, in Cornwall, they have, or had lately, the procession of the hobby-horse. At Hitchen, in Hertfordshire, a large party of the town-people and neighbouring labourers parade the streets, soon after three o'clock in the morning, singing the Mayer's Song." They carry in their hands large branches of May, and they affix one of these upon the doors of nearly every respectable house. Those of unpopular persons are marked with a bough of elder and a bunch of nettles instead. Throughout the day, parties of these Mayers are seen, dancing and frolicking, in various parts of the town. "The group that I saw to-day," says one of Mr. Hone's correspondents, was composed as follows:First came two men with their faces blacked, one of them with a birch broom in his hand, and a large artificial hump on his back; the other dressed as a woman, all in rags and tatters, with a large straw bonnet on, and carrying a ladle; these are called 'Mad Moll, and her husband.' Next came two men, one most fantastically dressed with ribands, and a great variety of gaudycoloured handkerchiefs, tied round his arms, from the shoulders to the wrists, and down his thighs and legs to the ankles; he carried a drawn sword in his hand; leaning on his arm was a youth, dressed as a fine lady, in white muslin, and profusely bedecked from top to toe with gay ribands; these were called the Lord and Lady of the company. After these followed six or seven couples more, attired much in the same style as the Lord and Lady, only the men were without swords. When this group received a satisfactory contribution at any house, the music struck up from a violin, clarionet, and fife, accompanied by the long drum, and they began the merry dance." While this continued, the principal amusement to the populace was caused by the grimaces and clownish tricks of Mad Moll and her husband. "When the circle of spectators became so contracted as to interrupt the dancers, then Mad Moll's husband went to work with his broom, and swept the road dust all round the circle into the faces of the crowd; and when any pretended affronts were offered to his wife, he pursued the offenders, broom in hand; if he could not overtake them, whether they were males or females, he flung the broom at them." The song entoned by these personages consists of seven religious verses, of great antiquity. It concludes as follows: "The life of man is but a span, We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow, "The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, So God bless you all, both great and small, At Great Gandsden, Cambridgeshire, "the farmers' young men-servants," says Mr. Howitt, "go and cut hawthorn, singing what we call the Night Song. They leave a bough at each house, according to the number of young persons in it. On the evening of May-day, and the following evening, they go round to every house where they left a bush, singing The May Song. One has a handkerchief on a long wand for a flag, with which he keeps off the crowd. The rest have ribands in their hats." Hutchinson, in his History of Northumberland, tells us, "that a syllabub is prepared for the May-feast, which is made of warm milk from the cow, sweet cake, and wine; and a kind of divination is practised, by fishing with a ladle for a wedding ring, which is dropped into it, for the purpose of prognosticating who shall be first married." At Penzance, in Ireland, and in Wales, May dances and observances (to which, we are sorry to say, we have only space to allude,) are still practised. respective houses. The mobility imitate their superiors, and also adjourn to the several public-houses, where they continue their dance till midnight." "There is no doubt," says Hone, "of the Furry' originating from the Floralia,' anciently observed by the Romans on the fourth of the kalends of May." There is a tradition that St. Michael, the patron saint of Helstone, made his appearance, or apparition, as it is called, on the 8th of May, at St. Michael's Mount, on a rock called his chair. This may have been a reason for making the octave of the May feast, or 8th of May, a marked day at Helstone; and when May-day festivities became obsolete here, as elsewhere, the Furry-day continued to be observed, as at this present time, with much zeal and enjoyment. | THE FRIENDS.1 FEW have lived Was but a summer's frolic: we have been May 8.-On this day, at Helstone, in Cornwall, is held what is called "the Furry,"-a name supposed by Mr. Polwhele to have been derived from the old Cornish word fer, a fair or jubilee. The morning is ushered in by the music of drums and kettles, and other accompaniments of a song "not very comprehensible." So strict is the observance of this day as a general festival, that, should any person be found at work, he is instantly seized, set astride on a pole, and hurried on men's As we have lived, unsevered; our young life shoulders, amidst thousands of huzzas, to the river, where he is sentenced to leap over a wide place, which he, of course, fails in accomplishing, and jumps into the water. A small contribution, however, towards the expenses of the feast, saves him from this cooling. About nine o'clock, the mob gathers round the various seminaries, and demands a holiday for their youthful inmates, which request is acceded to; a collection from house to house is then commenced, towards the general fund. The "young folks," of both sexes, then fade into the country, (fade being an old English word for go,) and return at twelve, with flowers and oak branches in their hats and caps. On entering the town, they are joined by a band of music, and dance, hand in hand, through the streets, to the "Flora Tune." In their progress, they enter every house and garden they please, without distinction; all doors are opened, and, in fact, it is thought much of by the householders to be thus favoured. The older branch of the population dance in the same manner; for it is to be noticed, they have select parties, and at different hours; no two sets dance together, or at the same time. "Then follow the gentry, which," ay an eye-witness," is really a very pleasing sight on a fine day, from the noted respectability of this rich borough. In this set, the sons and daughters of some of the first and noblest families of Cornwall join. The appearance of the ladies is enchanting. Added to their personal charms, in ball-room attire, cach, tastefully adorned with beautiful spring flowers, in herself appears to the gazer's eye a Flora, and leads ns to conceive the whole a scene from fairy land." The next set is the soldiers and their lasses; then come the tradesmen and their wives; journeymen and their "sweethearts;" and, "though last not least," the male and female servants, in splendid livery. In the evening a grand ball is always held at the assembly rooms; to which, in 1826, were added the performance of the "Honey-moon," at the theatre, a troop of horse at the circus, and an exhibition of sleight of hand, at the rooms. The borough, on this occasion, was thronged with visitors from all parts of the country. A writer, in 1790, states that at that period the dance round the streets was called a "Faddy." "In the afternoon," he adds, "the gentility go to some farm-house in the neighbourhood, to drink ten, syllabubs, &c., and return in a morris-dance to the town, where they form a Faddy, and dance through the streets till it is dark, claiming a right of going through any person's house-in at one door and out a' another. And here it formerly used to end, and the company of all kinds to disperse quietly to their several habitations. The ladies are now conducted by their partners to the ball-room, where they continue their dance till supper time; after which, they all faddy it out of the house, breaking off by degrees to their Like two babes passing hand in hand along Among them for a season, but returnest For since our birth, When first I issued forth into the world, (1) From Poems, by the Rev. H. Alford. London: Burns. F.R.PICKERSGILY And then the thought of thee swept through my soul, Till I could see the white waves leaping up, SELF-CULTIVATION. WHAT is our precise meaning when we speak of a man's cultivating himself? And is the power which we ascribe to him in using these words a reality or a delusion? In the primary use of the word "cultivate," it bears two distinct, and broadly distinguished, significations. We say that we cultivate the ground, by which we mean that we prepare and labour the ground, removing those things which obstruct the exercise of its natural powers, and applying such things as our experience has taught us will stimulate and strengthen them, so that it may most effectually put them forth in the production of fruits and plants from the seed which is committed to it. This is one, and perhaps the original use of the word. But we also say that we cultivate the plants and fruits themselves; and by that we mean that, applying our labour and skill to cause them to be produced in as great perfection as possible, we thereby effect a progressive improvement, more or less marked, in their character and qualities. We know from experience that we can do this; that improvement in the quality of any product of the earth is the unfailing result of continued and judicious cultivation; and so uniform and certain is this result, that we have come to express our convic tion of its certainty in the very word which we use to denote the effort to arrive at it. We have caused the word "cultivate," as applied to any product of the earth, to mean not merely the endeavour to produce it, but the improvement in its quality, which is the invariable consequence of that endeavour, when sufficiently sustained and rightly directed. When we speak of a man's cultivating the apple, we do not mean merely that he causes apples to grow, or that he goes on producing year after year, unimproved, the sour crab which, we believe, was the original progenitor of all the varieties of that excellent fruit; we mean that he is carrying on the process, which has already had the effect of converting the diminutive and useless crab into the valuable and delicious fruit, which, in such varied profusion, adorns and enriches our orchards. In passing from the primary signification of the word "cultivate," as expressing the physical processes intended to affect the operations of the earth in the prodretion of fruits, to its application to analogous operat'ons upon our moral and intellectual powers, we shall not here attempt to follow out the distinction we have drawn between its two significations, to the extent of separating that operation which corresponds to the cultivation of the ground, from that which corresponds to the cultivation of its fruits. We believe both to be more or less implied in every application of the word to the moral discipline which our minds undergo. But of far more importance than any amount of success in drawing fine metaphysical or logical distinctions between any of the operations of our minds, or the te ms by which it may be right to describe them, is the discovery, and application to our conduct in life, of the practical lesson to be drawn from the fact, that a word descriptive of physical processes carried on every day under our eyes, and the mode of whose operation, or at least the external machinery by which they are conducted to the desired results, is the subject of actual observation, has been, by that general consent of mankind, more unerring by far than the most refined speculations of philosophy, which alone can give currency to any particular acceptation of a word, transferred to functions of our invisible and spiritual part, of which our senses can take no cognizance, and of which, without the aid of such material analogies, we should have a very dim and indistinct conception. A common understanding of the expression "selfcultivation," is that it means something similar to "self-education:" that is, that we conduct the moral and intellectual training of our minds for ourselves, instead of leaving it to be done by others. But this, though undoubtedly implied in it, is only a part, and the least important part of its meaning; it points to the agent merely; it leaves unexplained the thing done, and it presents no indication of the means by which it is to be done. These we find in the analogy furnished by the more extended use of the word "self-cultivation" for which we contend, namely that, when we speak of self cultivation, we mean a man's cultivating himself, imply ing thereby that, in so doing, he effects upon himself an improvement analogous to that which, by the judicious employment of the means suggested by experience, the cultivator of any plant or fruit effects upon its nature and qualities. ployed. Workmen, the nature of whose employment brings a particular set of muscles constantly into play, acquire a degree of strength in those muscles which is truly astonishing, and altogether out of proportion to the general strength of their bodies. The arm of a blacksmith, for example, though he may be in other respects no stronger than ordinary men, becomes, by the continual use which he is obliged to make of it, a weapon as formidable as the ponderous fore-hammer which he wields as if it were a child's toy. In all other employments it is the same. Those muscles, which are most frequently brought into exercise, become developed to an extent much beyond the general growth of the body. On the other hand, where any particular set of muscles are kept in an unnatural condition of inactivity, they are left behind the rest of the body in its advancement to maturity of strength. The experience of most men can furnish abundant illustrations of this fact. A limb, so distorted at birth, or by early accident, as to make the natural use of it impossible, or difficult and painful, and which in consequence is never or seldom used, remains through life in a condition of the most helpless feebleness. This is the reason- we know of no other-why, in the case of the generality of men, the left hand is weaker than the right. The general inclination to use the right hand in preference to the left, to whatever cause it may be owing, and the consequently greater amount of exercise enjoyed by the former, cause it to advance far a-head of the other in the attainment of strength. It would appear as if exercise-the habitual repetition of the acts for which it was intended by nature-were part of the necessary aliment of the muscular part of our frame; as essential to its full development as the flow of blood through our veins, the admission of air to the lungs, and the mastication, digestion, and assi milation of food are to the preservation of life. Campbell's beautiful line, "The might that slumbers in a peasant's arm," would thus appear, exquisite as is the poetical image it presents, to be founded on a physical error. Might cannot continue to slumber in any arm. If it does so it dies. It may be noiseless, unobtrusive, putting itself forth in hidden directions where its movements escape notice, but it has not been asleep. Had it slept, it would not have been to be found when wanted, nor been able to step forth into vigorous action when the necessity for its appearance arose. Into the rationale of this arrangement of Nature it is unnecessary to enter. No matter whether we are able or not to explain, why or how it is, that every exercise of our muscles in the mode intended by Nature adds to their strength, and that, by neglecting or avoiding to exercise them, we prevent them from acquiring the strength necessary for enabling them to maintain their due place in our system; it is enough for us to know that the fact is so that it is a law, upon whose uniform operation we can repose with unerring certainty. points out to us the means by which we can bring our bodily frame to the highest state of perfection of which its original constitution will admit; and it also indicates to us, by a very natural analogy, a means by which we may probably reach the utmost attainable perfection of our moral nature-strengthening what is good-weak Do we possess such a power? Can we so cultivate ourselves? Can we regulate the growth of our moral and intellectual powers, so as, in the end, to give the pre-ening and deadening what is evil. ponderance of strength to such of them as will constitute us beings largely improved in true nobility of nature? Such a question, if we have any means what ever of answering it, is unquestionably one of the most important which can be addressed to the mind of man. It would appear to be a law of our nature-it certainly is so in the case of our bodily frame-that our ability to perform any act is increased by each effort that we make to perform it. We do not say this merely in reference to the increased skill which practice always confers, but to the increased power of the organs em It The influence of habit, or of the frequent repetition of such acts as are the object of any natural tendency, appetite, or desire, in increasing the intensity of the natural feeling which prompts to their performance, is matter of the commonest observation. It proves to us that we have, in one class of cases at least, reason for inferring the existence of an analogy between the body and the mind in regard to the increase of strength derived by any organ of either from the frequent exercise of its functions. For the desire,or appetite, though closely related to the body, and incapable, perhaps, of being |