the prosperity of the people, and the fruits of
the earth. They danced also round this fire;
for what feast is there without a dance? and
the most active leaped over it. Each, on
departing, took a firebrand, great or small,
and the remains were scattered to the wind,
which, at the same time that it dispersed the
ashes, was thought to expel every evil. When,
after a long train of years, the year ceased to
commence at this solstice, still the custom of
making these fires at this time was continued
by force of habit, and of those superstitious ideas
that are annexed to it." Various nations
would naturally connect with this celebration,
whether of the new year or the summer
solstice, some of the forms and colourings of
their various religions, and thus preserve,
under diverse shapes and names, the one
primary idea. When Christianity extended
itself, not only Pagan temples, but Pagan rites
and festivals were wisely converted into
Christian ones, and the Solstitial Fires would
fitly be transferred to the Feast of St. John
the Baptist, falling in that time of the year.
In the ancient calendar of the Church of
Rome, June twenty-fourth is marked,
"Nativitas Joannis Baptistæ—Solstitium Vulgare."
Whether the celebration of Midsummer was
shifted from the true solstice to unite with
St. John's eve, is a question to be asked. The
derivation of the name (which I have always
in Ireland heard called bonefire), is also a
matter of discussion. Bone-fire, some say, in
honour of St. John and other martyrs: or
else because it was partly made of bones;
Bon-fire, Good Fire, say others, because it
was thought to be against disease and ill-luck,
and William Browne in his "Shepheard's
Pipe," (written about 1620), third eclogue,
mentions "the blessing-fire," appending this
note: "The Midsummer fires are termed so
in the west parts of England." A derivation
from the Icelandic has also been offered, with
the sense of Festive Fire; but that etymology
which seems most reasonable makes Bone the
same as Boon-fire, that is, Contribution Fire,
being made up of materials collected from
many different persons: contributed ploughing
days in Northumberland are said to be called
"Bone-dargs."

In Ireland, for weeks before St. John's eve,
swarms of little boys seek "something for
the Bonefire" all round the towns and villages,
and also levy—without any verbal application
—what they term "custom" from every cart
and donkey-load of turf they meet; revelling
in their piratical descents on the "turf-
cadgers," and in their consequent squabbles
with, and hair-breadth escapes from, those
exasperated rustics. To assist the removal
of turf from a high cart, or round a corner,
the brigands sometimes carry sticks tipped
with an iron spike or hook.

When the evening of the twenty-third has
arrived, each band begins about five o'clock
to build its particular fire, assisted by a couple
of "big brothers." In the country— where,
by the way, the collection of the fuel is a
quieter business, every neighbour readily
giving his share— high grounds are chosen for
the sites; in the town, open places in the
suburbs, usually; for the police are no longer
so tolerant of the streets being put to this
purpose, as they used to be a few years ago.
In the process of building, live coals are
placed in the heart of the heap, with a vent
for air, and ere long, the black, smoking
cones are left to themselves for awhile, or
only watched by some children and two or
three stout guards, whose part it is to prevent
a possible attack from the adherents of some
rival Fire, or foil it if made. The pile of
turf is sometimes garnished with layers of
bones, cows' horns obtained from the tan-
yards, and perhaps a horse's head; but these
are now considered luxuries of incremation,
not necessaries, as formerly. Close by, if the
funds have proved sufficient, stands a row of
old, brown, smeary tar-barrels; and the fod-
yogues, though as yet invisible, are ready for
their work. About nine o'clock the
turf-cones, detruncated, are crowned with red glow
and wavering flames, and round them gather
crowds of both sexes, chiefly young people and
children, laughing, talking, shouting, and
restless. Let us visit some of the Bonefires
of our little town.

First, one in a nook at the end of a middling
street; where, at a comfortable distance from
the blaze, two butchers and a pensioner are
talking politics, with a select audience, and
showing a very intimate acquaintance with
the news of the day (distinctly coloured,
though, by the medium through which it has
come), as well as no mean amount of general
information and intelligence; while under a
wall sit a row of girls, chatting confidentially
among themselves, or ironically with some
young fellow who has ventured to lounge over
to them; and a frequent laugh runs down or
up the line in various tones, like a chime of
bells.

Our next move brings us to the middle of a
bare common, where there is a much larger
fire, and a rougher mob. Droll remarks,
strongly flavoured with personality, are flying
about; a turf, now and again, is also flying
about; and practical jokes of every sort are
in great estimation. At last, a fight arises
between two "boys"— who are stout young men,
—but after a blow or two they are sundered
by a noisy crowd, and removed, bareheaded,
and talking defiance over their shoulders, to
opposite corners of the common; where the
male friends of each antagonist soothe him
by declaring "It's a good kicking you ought
to get;" and his female relations by dragging
his coat half off his back, and telling him
concisely, to "have wit!" However, it is now
time to light the tar-barrels and fod-yogues—
the latter being bundles of dry reeds, some of
them ten or twelve feet high and at the lower
end as large as the crown of a hat, some shorter
and tied on sticks. When all are well a-blaze,