attached to the nose, which is held by a second man, and they are attended by several others.  In houses to which they can gain access, they go through some kind of performance, the man with the chain telling the horse to rear, open its mouth, &c.  Their object, of course, is to obtain money.  The horse will sometimes seize persons, and hold them fast till they pay for being set free; but he is generally very peaceable,—­for in case of resistance being offered, his companions frequently take flight, and leave the poor horse to fight it out.  I could never learn the origin of this strange custom.  I remember, when very young, having a perfect horror of meeting this animal in the dark.

Another custom, which I suppose prevails in some other places, is the “Rush-bearing.”  At the annual Wakes a large quantity of rushes are collected together, and loaded on a cart, almost to the height of a load of hay.  They are bound on the cart, and cut evenly at each end.  On the Saturday evening a number of men sit on the top of the rushes, holding garlands of artificial flowers, tinsel, &c.  The cart is drawn round the parish by three or four spirited horses, decked out with ribbons,—­the collars being surrounded with small bells.  It is attended by morris-dancers, dressed in strange style,—­men in women’s clothes, &c.  One big man in woman’s clothes, with his face blacked, has a belt round his waist, to which is attached a large bell, and carries a ladle, in which he collects money from the spectators.  The company stop and dance at the principal public-houses in their route, and then proceed to the parish church(!), where the rushes are deposited, and the garlands hung up very conspicuously, to remain till the next year.  I believe a custom somewhat similar exists in the adjoining parish of Warburton, but not carried out in such grand style.

It would be very interesting if your correspondents in different parts of the country would send accounts of these relics of the barbarous ages.

JULIUS.

Runcorn, Feb. 13. 1850.

* * * * *

ON AUTHORS AND BOOKS, NO. 5.

As a writer of dedications, Samuel Johnson was the giant of his time.  He once said to Boswell, the subject arising at a dinner-party, “Why, I have dedicated to the royal family all round,”—­and the honest chronicler proves that he spoke advisedly.

Compositions of this nature admit much variety of character.  A dedication may be the pure homage which we owe to merit, or the expression of gratitude for favours received, or a memorial of cherished friendship; and such dedications, in point of motive, are beyond the reach of censure—­I may fairly assert, are very commendable.  Nevertheless, Johnson left no compositions of either class:  “the loftiness of his mind,” as Boswell gravely states, “prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person.”