somewhat in the nature of Christmas-boxes, in many of the old household accounts.
The oddest effect produced by the fear of Christmas-boxes was one that occurred some few years since, where a person in trade directed that he should be denied to all applicants for these forced gratuities. Amongst others, however, some importunate creditor called, and was denied. He immediately in the height of his wrath consulted his lawyer, or professional man, as is the modern term, and the unsuspecting victim of Christmas-box-phobia was punished by having a docket struck against him, and in due time may have appeared in the Gazette as “dealer and chapman,” but I forget the result.
The dustmen and scavengers are in the habit of leaving printed applications for their Christmas- boxes, one of which, in my possession, warns people against a number of persons completely unconnected with “our profession, who go about at this season with the base design of imposing upon you, and defrauding your obedient humble servants.” Another ticket of the “constant dust-men,” as they call themselves, adds at the bottom, “No connexion with the scavengers.” The Principal Wait also leaves a notice of a more imposing description, stating a regular appointment to the office by warrant, and admission with all the ancient forms of the City and Liberty of Westminster, and bears a silver-badge and chain with the arms of that city. But these ancient personages must be mentioned more at length.
In the early ages (but subsequent to those times when the bard was also the historian or chronicler, and held a high rank in the royal establishment,) minstrels, mimics, jugglers, tumblers, &c. crowded the abodes of our princes and grandees during the several
