Any candidate desirous of being admitted a member of the fraternity was proposed by the sword-bearer; and the master of the ceremonies placing him in the adopting chair, the comptroller made three ejaculations, upon which the brethren doffed their hats. Then the master of the ceremonies exchanged his own comuted castor for a cap, and administered to his newly elected brother, on a book horned on all sides, an oath in rhyme, recapitulating a long string of duties belonging to their peculiar art and mystery, and enjoining their strict performance. Lastly, observe thou shalt esteem none other Equal to this our club;--so welcome brother!” * * Bull-Feathers-Hall; or, The Antiquity and Dignity of Horns amply shown. Also a Description of the Manners, Rites, Customs, and Revenues belonging to that ingenious and numerous society of Bull-Feathers-Hall. London: printed for the Society of Bull-Feathers-Hall. 1664. A copy of this rare tract produced at Bindley's sale five pounds ten shillings, and at Strette's five pounds. “Thus ends my story, gentlemen; and if you have found it tedious, visit the offence on the Lauréat of Little Britain, by enjoining him the penance of a bumper of salt and water.” But mine host of the Horns, very prim about the wig, his coat marked with his apron strings, which left a seam all round, as if he had been cut in two, and afterwards stitched together again, having been slyly telegraphed, that obedient functionary, who was as neat as his wines, entered, bearing before him what Mr. Bosky facetiously called “_a good afternoon_,” to wit, a brimming bowl, in which _whiskey_ had been judiciously substituted for _salt_. Uncle Timothy rose; so did the voice of Mr. Bosky! and to such an altitude as to drown his expostulations in contumacious carolling, which, truth obliges us to add, received laughing impunity from the company. Come merrily push round the toddy, The cold winter nights are set in; To a roquelaire wrapp'd round the body Add a lining of lamb's-wool within! This liquor was brew'd by my grandam, In a snug quiet still of her own; 'Tis fit for my Lord in his tandem, And royal King Will on his throne. In the glass, see it sparkles and ripples, And how it runs merrily down! The absolute monarch of tipples, And richly deserving a crown! Of mirth 'tis the spring and the fountain, And Helicon's stream to the Muse; The pleasantest dew of the mountain-- So give it, good fellows, its dues. It opens the heart of the miser, And conjures up truth from the knave; It makes my Lord Bishop look wiser,--