The Every-day Book and Table Book, v. 1 (of 3): or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the AlmanacHone, William
History
The Every-day Book and Table Book, v. 1 (of 3): or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac
Hone, William
Days; Great Britain -- Social life and customs
It seems from “the Gossips,” a poem by Shipman, in 1666, that the usage
of giving apostle-spoons at christenings, was at that time on the
decline:
“Formerly, when they us’d to troul,
Gilt bowls of sack, they gave the bowl;
Two _spoons_ at least; an _use ill kept_;
’Tis well if now our own be left.”
An anecdote is related of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, which bears upon
the usage: Shakspeare was godfather to one of Jonson’s children, and,
after the christening, being in deep study, Jonson cheeringly asked him,
why he was so melancholy? “Ben,” said he, “I have been considering a
great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my
godchild, and I have resolved it at last.” “I prithee, what?” said Ben,
“I’ faith, Ben,” answered Shakspeare, “I’ll give him a dozen good
_latten spoons_, and thou shalt translate them.” The word _latten_,
intended as a play upon _latin_, is the name for thin iron tinned, of
which spoons, and similar small articles of household use, are sometimes
made. Without being aware of the origin, it is still a custom with many
persons, to present spoons at christenings, or on visiting the “lady in
the straw;” though they are not now adorned with imagery.
* * * * *
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Winter hellebore. _Helleborus hyemalis._
~January 26.~
_St. Polycarp._ _St. Paula._ _St. Conan._
THE SEASON.
On winter comes--the cruel north
Pours his furious whirlwind forth
Before him--and we breathe the breath
Of famish’d bears, that howl to death:
Onward he comes from rocks that blanch
O’er solid streams that never flow,
His tears all ice, his locks all snow,
Just crept from some huge avalanche.
_Incog._
BEARS AND BEES.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account