But as king Rufus chas’d the deer, And hunted the forest far and near, Until as he watch’d the jumpy squirrel, He was shot by Walter Tyrrel; So, if Fate shall his death ordain, Shall kitten Rufus by dogs be slain, And end his thrice three lives of woe Among the cotton and calico. * * * * * ~Twelfth-Day~ SONNET TO A PRETTY GIRL IN A PASTRY-COOK’S SHOP. _Sweet_ Maid, for thou art _maid_ of many _sweets_, Behind thy counter, lo! I see thee standing, Gaz’d at by wanton wand’rers in the streets, While _cakes_, to _cakes_, thy _pretty fist_ is handing. Light as a _puff_ appears thy every motion, Yet thy replies I’ve heard are sometimes _tart_; I deem thee a _preserve_, yet I’ve a notion That warm as _brandied cherries_ is thy heart. Then be not to thy lover like an _ice_, Nor sour as _raspberry vinegar_ to one Who owns thee for a _sugar-plum_ so nice, Nicer than _comfit_, _syllabub_, or _bun_. I love thee more than all the girls so natty, I do, indeed, my _sweet_, my _savoury_ PATTY. * * * * * “HOLLY NIGHT” AT BROUGH. _For the Table Book._ The ancient custom of carrying the “holly tree” on Twelfth Night, at Brough in Westmoreland, is represented in the accompanying engraving. Formerly the “Holly-tree” at Brough was really “holly,” but ash being abundant, the latter is now substituted. There are two head inns in the town; which provide for the ceremony alternately, though the good townspeople mostly lend their assistance in preparing the tree, to every branch of which they fasten a torch. About eight o’clock in the evening, it is taken to a convenient part of the town, where the torches are lighted, the town band accompanying and playing till all is completed, when it is removed to the lower end of the town; and, after divers salutes and huzzas from the spectators, is carried up and down the town, in stately procession, usually by a person of renowned strength, named Joseph Ling. The band march behind it, playing their instruments, and stopping every time they reach the town bridge, and the cross, where the “holly” is again greeted with shouts of applause. Many of the inhabitants carry lighted branches and flambeaus; and rockets, squibs, &c. are discharged on the joyful occasion. After the tree is thus carried, and the torches are sufficiently burnt, it is placed in the middle of the town, when it is again cheered by the surrounding populace, and is afterwards thrown among them. They eagerly watch for this opportunity; and, clinging to each end of the tree, endeavour to carry it away to the inn they are contending for, where they are allowed their usual quantum of ale and spirits, and pass a “_merry night_,” which seldom breaks up before two in the morning. [Illustration: ~Carrying the “Holly Tree” at Brough, Westmoreland.~]