I divers Barrels oft have seene,

drawne out of water cleare, Through one small blessed bone

of this same holy Martyr heare: And caryed thence to other townes and cities farre away,

Such superstition doth require

such earnest kinde of play."

The origin of St. Blase's fame has baffled the inquiry of antiquaries; it seems to have rolled off with the darkness of former ages, never to be known again. To the wool-combers this saint is indebted for the maintenance of his reputation in England, for no other trade or persons have any interest in remembering his existence; and this popularity with a body of so much consequence may possibly have been the reason, and the only reason, for the retention of his name in the church calendar at the Reformation. That it is not in the wane with them, is clear from a report in the Leeds Mercury, of the 5th of February, 1825. The article furnishes the very interesting particulars in the subjoined account :—

CELEBRATION OF

Bishop Blase's Festival,
AT BRADFORD, 3d FEBRUARY, 1825.

The septennial festival, held in honour of bishop Blase, and of the invention of wool-combing attributed to that personage, was on this day celebrated at Bradford with great gaiety and rejoicing.

There is no place in the kingdom where the bishop is so splendidly commemorated as at Bradford. In 1811, 1818, and at previous septennial periods, the occasion was celebrated with great pomp and festivity, each celebration surpassing the preceding ones in numbers and brilliance. The celebration of 1825 eclipsed all hitherto seen, and it is most gratifying to know, that this is owing to the high prosperity of the worsted and woollen manufactures, which are constantly adding fresh streets and suburban villages to the town.

The different trades began to assemble at eight o'clock in the morning, but it was near ten o'clock before they all were arranged in marching order in Westgate. The arrangements were actively superintended by Matthew Thompson, Esq. The morning was brilliantly beautiful. As early as seven o'clock, strangers pour

ed into Bradford from the surrounding towns and villages, in such numbers as to line the roads in every direction; and almost all the vehicles within twenty miles were in requisition. Bradford was never before known to be so crowded with strangers. Many thousands of individuals must have come to witness the scene. About ten o'clock the procession was drawn up in the following order :Woolstaplers on horseback, each horse capaHerald bearing a flag.

risoned with a fleece. Worsted Spinners and Manufacturers on horseback, in white stuff waistcoats, with each a sliver over the shoulder, and a white stuff sash; the horses' necks covered with nets made of thick yarn.

Merchants on horseback, with coloured sashes. ThreeGuards. Masters'Colours. ThreeGuards. Apprentices and Masters' Sons, on horseback, with ornamented caps, scarlet stuff coats, white stuff waistcoats, and › ue pantaloons. Bradford and Keighley Bands. Mace-bearer, on foot.

Six Guards. KING. QUEEN. Six Guards.
Guards. JASON. PRINCESSMEDEA. Guards.
Bishop's Chaplain.
BISHOP BLASE.
Shepherd and Shepherdess.

Shepherd Swains.

Woolsorters, on horseback, with ornamented
caps, and various coloured slivers.
Comb Makers.
Charcoal Burners.

Combers' Colours.
Band.

Woolcombers, with wool wigs, &c.

Band.

coming gravity, also named John Smith; and he had enjoyed his pontificate several previous commemorations; his chaplain was James Beethom. The ornaments of the spinners and manufacturers had a neat and even elegant appearance, from the delicate and glossy whiteness of the finely combed wool which they wore. The apprentices and masters' sons, however, formed the most showy part of the procession, their caps being richly adorned with ostrich feathers, flowers, and knots of various coloured yarn, and their stuff garments being of the gayest colours; some of these dresses, we understand, were very costly, from the profusion of their decorations. The shepherd, shepherdess, and swains, were attired in light green. The wool-sorters, from their number and the height of their plumes of feathers, which were, for the most part, of different colours, and formed in the shape of fleur-de-lis, had a dashing appearance. The combmakers carried before them the instruments here so much celebrated, raised on standards, together with golden fleeces, rams' heads with gilded horns, and other emblems. The combers looked both neat and comfortable in their flow. ing wigs of well-combed wool; and the garb of the dyers was quite professional. Several well-painted flags were displayed, one of which represented on one side the venerable BISHOP in full robes, and on the other a shepherd and shepherdess under a tree. Another had a painting of MEDEA giving up the golden fleece to JASON: : a third had a portrait of the KING: and a fourth appeared to belong to some association in the trade. The whole procession was from half a mile to a mile in length.

When the procession was ready to move, Richard Fawcett, Esq. who was on horseback at the head of the spinners, pronounced, uncovered, and with great animation, the following lines, which it had long been customary to repeat on these occasions, and which, if they have not much poetical elegance, have the merit of expressing true sentiments in simple language:

Hail to the day, whose kind auspicious rays Deign'd first to smile on famous bishop Blase! To the great author of our combing trade, This day's devoted, and due honour's paid; To him whose fame thro' Britain's isle resounds,

To him whose goodness to the poor abounds;

bread.

Long shall his name in British annals shine, And grateful ages offer at his shrine ! By this our trade are thousands daily fed, By it supplied with means to earn their In various forms our trade its work imparts, In different methods, and by different arts, Preserves from starving, indigents distress'd As combers, spinners, weavers, and the rest. We boast no gems, or costly garments vain, Borrow'd from India, or the coast of Spain; Our native soil with wool our trade supplies, While foreign countries envy us the prize. No foreign broil our common good annoys, Our country's product all our art employs; Our fleecy flocks abound in every vale, So let not Spain with us attempt to vie, Our bleating lambs proclaim the joyful tale. Nor India's wealth pretend to soar so high, Nor Jason pride him in his Colehian spoil, Since Britons all with ease attain the prize, By hardships gain'd, and enterprising toil, And every hill resounds with golden cries. To celebrate our founder's great renown Our shepherd and our shepherdess we crown; For England's commerce, and for George's

Indian Bay Laurus Indica.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

February 5.

Holiday at the Exchequer.

St. Agatha. The Martyrs of Japan. The

uum.

Dedicated to St. John of Matha.

February 9.

bishop, A. D. 525.

Adelaide, A. D. 1015.
Bishop of Arbela.

St. Agatha.

St. Alice, or St. Abraamius,

rus, A. D. 260. St, Theliau, Bishop, A. D. 580. St. Ansbert, Abp. of Rouen, A. D. 695. St. Attracta or Tarahata of Ireland. St. Herard or Eberhard

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Roman Narcissus. Narcissus Romanus. Dedicated to St. Apollonia.

February 10.

St. Scholastica, A. D. 543. St. Coteris, 4:h Cent. St. William of Maleval, A. D. 1157. St. Erlulph, Scotch Bishop.

mean," said the old gentieman, and taking a paper from a drawer, he held up this exemplificatica:

Just then an unmarried gentleman, "of a certain age," entered the room. On becoming acquainted with the topic, he drew from his pocket a small packet, and said, with a merry smile, "Here was my Valentine." It contained a rib of some small animal completely enveloped with white satin ribbon, ornamented by a true love:'s knot at each end, and another in the middle. Father and daughter both had a laugh at the "old bachelor," and he, laughing with them, put into the young lady's hand the poetical address that accompanied his rib:

Go contemplate this lovely sign!
Haste thee away to reason's shrine,
And listen to her voice;
No more illusive shades pursue,
To happiness this gives the clue,
Make but a prudent choice.
'Till Adam had a partner given,
Much as fair Eden bloom'd like heaven,
His bliss was incomplete;
No social friend those joys to share,
Gave the gay scene a vacant air!
She came 'twas all replete.
And could not genuine Paradise,
The most extensive wish suffice,
Its guiltless lord possest?
No-not without a kindred mate;
How then in this degen'rate state,
Can man, alone be blest?

But now the Muse withdraws her aid;
Enough, thy folly to upbraid;

Enough to make thee wise:
No more of pensive hours complain,
No more, that all life's joys are vain,
If thou this hint despise.
Feb. 13, 182-.

A Friend.

"Well now, this is capital!" exclaimed the laughing lass. "After such a Valertine, you must take the hint, my dear sit. it's really a shame that so good-natured a man should remain a bachelor. I recollect, that when I could only just run about, you used to be so kind to me; besides, how you dandled and played with me! and since then, how you have read to me and instructed me till I grew up! Such a man is the very man to be married: you are every way domestic, and it's settled; you must get married."-"Well, then, will you have me?" he inquired, with a cheerful laugh. "I have you? No! Why, you are too old; but not too old to find a wife: there are many ladies whom we know, of your age, wholly disengaged; but you don't pay them any particular attention." Her father interposed; and the gentleman she addressed playfully said, "It is a little hard, indeed, that I should have these fine compliments and severe reproaches at the same time: however," taking her by the hand," you will understand, that it is possible I may have paid particular attention to a lady at an age when the affections are warmer; I did; and I reconciled myself to rejection by courting my books and the pleasures of solitude

Hast thou been ever waking

From slumbers soft and light,
And heard sweet music breaking
The stillness of the night;
When all thy soul was blending
With that delightful strain,
And night her silence lending
To rivet fancy's chain;
Then on a sudden pausing,

Those strains have ceas'd to plav
A painful absence causing

Of bliss that died away!

So from my soul has vanish'd
The dream of youthful days;
So Hope and Love are banish'd,

And Truth her pow'r displays.

The origin of so pleasant a day, the first pleasant day in the year, whether its season be regarded, or the mode of its celebration, requires some little investigation; nor must some of its past and present usages be unrecorded here.