the tar-barrels mount to the heads of sturdy
volunteers, the fod-yogues fall in behind, and
away go the lights down into the town,
drawing most of the people after them; and
so they round street-corners, and flare
unwonted blaze on the old gables, while every
step increases the train of human moths—
only of a very noisy species, for they
incessantly scream, laugh, halloo, and whistle
through their fingers. The procession now
approaches a district of thatched houses, and
it is whispered that the police are at hand,
designing evil; whereupon the whole crowd
sets off pell-mell; the tar-barrels, dropping
flame, roll fearfully on the dusky surge like
ships on fire, and at last one topples over with
a crash and makes a chasm in the stream of
people, but it is soon lifted again, and those
who press on from behind kick the blazing
fragments scattered about the street. Meanwhile
the fod-yogues have been getting into
confusion; some jostle one another, some fall
to pieces about the bearers' ears; the more
lucky, streaming like comets in their flight,
return in safety, and gambol about the Bone-
fire till their torches fail. There also the tar-
barrels are deposited, to consume themselves
away.

Another fire burns by the river brink,
throwing a bright wavering path across the
broad, dark stream. When we stand a little
way off, the sounds of the water continually
gushing through the weir, and of the night
breeze in the grass, are not broken by that
occasional muffled shout; and the black
figures, seen dimly athwart their nucleus of
fire, assume a novel and mysterious aspect.

Elsewhere, the Midsummer flame shines on
some fishermen's cottages, almost under the
leaves of a grove of sycamore and beech
trees, at the entrance to a gentleman's
avenue; close by, a runnel is scarce heard to
flow, among stones and under its little bridge,
down to the harbour creek. This is a small
fire, but with the merriest circle we have yet
seen, consisting almost entirely of fishermen,
their wives, hardy sons, handsome daughters,
and sturdy bare-legged children, seated round
in large and small groups.

In one place the elders are smoking their
pipes, and talking of California and Australia;
in another, a man who has been out in a
whaler is relating Arctic anecdotes for a relish
to the heat; in another, some lads are trying
to persuade the girls that the first who will
leap over the fire is sure to be married before
the year is out; but, without supposing the
girls indifferent to that contingency, it appears
that the nature of the feat, or incredulity as
to its efficacy, prevents their making the
attempt. Here, a child is caught up in stout,
friendly hands, and swung several times over
the coals, half afraid and half enjoying the
sport, which is probably the relic of a serious
custom; and there, in the only chair, sits an
ancient man with curling yellow locks, childhood's
garland restored, retracing in slow
utterance his memories of vanished years.
But silence is requested: two sisters are
going to sing; and from the centre of a crowd
of girls their voices rise clearly, blended in
one, in a ballad about a pretty fair maid and
her true love; with a chorus for which many
voices join in unison, and all in excellent
tune. Between the verses the singers are
kindly encouraged with approving
interjections, and at the end warmly applauded;
and, indeed, real good manners characterise
the assembly during the whole of the rather
long performance. Now come women with
tongs and children with sticks, and carry off
a share of the glowing coals, to be deposited
on the cottage hearth or cast for luck into
the corn or potato-field; but ere the fire die,
some late fod-yogues remain to be consumed.
They are lighted, and set in motion; the bright
row gleams at intervals through the trees,
and then begins to ascend the Fort Hill,
which commands a circling prospect of the
town, river, harbour, and country. Massing
their flambeaux into one blaze on the hilltop,
the bearers leave them there to burn out;
and we, ascending afterwards, enjoy in quiet
the view of the dim country-side, spotted
with fires, flashing fitfully or shining with
steady lustre; some on hills, some marking
the position of hamlets, and one, like a
rising star, on the obscure crest of the
remoter mountain. Over all hangs a dark,
clear sky; with a three-quarter moon, that
in a few hours will see these earth sparks
subside one by one.

Again at the large Bonefire on the common.
It is still broad and deep; but in the powerful
rays linger only half-a-dozen idlers and
a few ragged boys, some of whom are taking
the opportunity to roast potatoes which they
have begged during the day, or perhaps have
"hooked" in the neighbouring fields. The
fire sheds a ghastly, green-white hue on their
faces, very different from the glow beside a
comfortable hearth; and this, aided by the
wretched garb and dull movements, might
present it to the fancy as one of those
disinfecting fires lighted in time of plague,
resorted to at night by the poor, sick,
deranged, and outcast.

But it is time we were in bed; the glaucous
dawn begins to lift itself behind those great
ranges of cloud in the south-east. At the
corner we exchange a Good night, which
might have been Good morning, with the
police patrol making their round.

Now Ready, Price 3s. in cloth, the
VOLUME FOR 1851 OF
THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE
OF CURRENT EVENTS;
Which being declared, by the judgment of the Court of
Exchequer, a legal publication not coming within the
provisions of the Stamp Act, will be regularly continued and
much improved.
A Number is published at the end of each Month.