appeared, to make room for sprigs of box, which
remained until Easter brought in the yew. Our ancestors were very
fond of bonfires, and on the 3rd of this month, St. Blaize's Day,[4]
the red flames might be seen darting up from every hilltop. But why
they should do this on that day is not evident, except that the good
Bishop's name sounded something like _blaze_, and perhaps that was
quite a sufficient reason! And why the day of St. Valentine should
have been selected for the drawing lots for sweethearts, and for the
sending affectionate greetings, is another mystery. St. Valentine
was a priest and martyr in Italy in the third century, and had
nothing to do with the popular commemoration of the day.

Now we come to the diversions of Shrove-tide,[5] which immediately
precedes the Lenten Fast. The Monday before Ash Wednesday was called
Collop Monday in the north, because slices of bacon (or collops)
were the recognized dish for dinner. But on Tuesday the chief
amusements began; the bells were rung, pancakes tossed with great
solemnity, and devoured with great satisfaction, as an old writer,
who did not approve of so much feasting, tells us--

"In every house are shouts and cries, and mirth and revel rout,
And dainty tables spread, and all beset with guests about."

He further describes this old English carnival, which must have
rivalled any that we read of on the Continent--

"Some run about the streets attired like monks, and some like
kings,
Accompanied with pomp, and guard, and other stately things.
Some like wild beasts do run abroad in skins that divers be
Arrayed, and eke with loathsome shapes, that dreadful are to
see,
They counterfeit both bears and wolves, and lions fierce in
sight,
And raging bulls; some play the cranes, with wings and stilts
upright."

But the great game for Shrove Tuesday was our time-honoured
football, which has survived so many of the ancient pastimes of our
land, and may be considered the oldest of all our English national
sports. The play might not be quite so scientific as that played by
our modern athletes, but, from the descriptions that have come down
to us, it was no less vigorous. "After dinner" (says an old writer)
"all the youths go into the fields to play at the ball. The ancient
and worthy men of the city come forth on horseback to see the sport
of the young men, and to take part of the pleasure in beho