Thomson has inimitably described the tyranny

of the custom:

The shivering wretches, at the curfew sound,
Dejected sunk into their sordid beds,

And, through the mournful gloom of ancient times,
Mused sad, or dreamt of better.

The first introduction of the curfew in England is, however, of much earlier date than the Conqueror's time for King Alfred, the restorer of the university at Oxford, ordained that all the inhabitants of that city should, at the ringing of curfew bell every night at eight o'clock, cover up their fires and go to bed, which custom, it is remarked, in an old History of Oxford, "is observed to this day, and the bell as constantly rings at eight, as Great Tom tolls at nine."

It is, therefore, more reasonable to conclude that the Conqueror revived or continued the custom, which he had previously established in Normandy, and which was used in his time in most of the monasteries and towns in the north of Europe; the intent being merely to prevent accidents by fire, since, all the common houses then consisted of timber. The adoption of the curfew must consequently have been a wise measure in England, since the Saxon Chronicle makes frequent mention of towns being burnt from their being built of wood, just as some cities on the continent, Moscow for example, have been often destroyed in our time.

The curfew custom is now stated upon good authority to have been a law of police, the improved vigilance of which was the chief benefit derived by the natives of that generation from the government of William and his successors; so that it is altogether a misinterpretation of facts to consider the curfew as one of the curses inflicted upon the people of this country by the Norman Conquest. It was, on the other hand, one of its few immediate benefits.

Subsequent mention is made of the curfew in records of various dates, but the practice, we are told, was observed to its full extent only during the reign of the Conqueror and his successor. Nevertheless, in the reign of Henry VIII. in 1495, the lord mayor of London ordered that if any parish clock rung curfew after the same had been rung at Bow Church, Saint Bryde's Church, or Saint Gyles without Cripplegate, he should be punished by the city authorities. In the parish accounts of Feversham, in the same reign, we find the sexton or his deputy ordered to be in the church steeple, and at eight o'clock every night to ring the curfew for a quarter of an hour, "with such bell as of old time hath been accustomed."

Yet, this ringing of the bell was but the relic of the custom, since the people were probably not compelled to put out their fires and lights beyond the reign of William II. Shakspeare refers to "curfew" as a certain hour, in King

Lear: thus," Edgar. This is the foul Flibbertigibbet: He begins at curfew and walks to the first cock." Milton thus alludes to the custom:

On a plot of rising ground,
Hear the far-off curfew sound,
Over some wide-watered shore,
Swinging slow with sullen roar.

From an old play, date 1631, the hour of ringing appears to have been later than hitherto stated. Thus, one of the characters, the sexton, says, "Well, 'tis nine o'clock, 'tis time to ring curfew." But, the most familiar allusion is in the first line of Gray's Elegy written in a Country Churchyard:

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.

The entries in various parish books prove the ringing of the curfew bell at four in the morning and eight in the evening to have been provided for by bequests thus, in some districts, tracts of land, or other property, have been left to the parish to defray the expense, and where such provision has not been made, the payment to the ringer of the bell will be found in the churchwarden's charges. It is, however, difficult to attribute any other good result to the continuance of the custom than the impression of early and regular habits on the people: the morningbell would call the labourer to his daily toil, the evening knell would indicate the welcome hour of rest to the weary; and wealthy persons be

coming sensible of such beneficial effects upon the industrious classes, and perhaps having themselves become rich by the maxim" early to bed and early to rise," would cherish the custom by leaving some fund from which the expense of ringing the curfew might be defrayed in future ages. Good men seek to benefit posterity by various means; but, indirect as the benefit of ringing the curfew may appear in a list of benefactions, perchance neither of the bequests has a more salutary influence upon the welfare of the people.

It is not therefore surprising to find that traces of this custom exist to this day in various towns of England. Even in crowded London, bells are tolled at stated hours of morning and evening; and it is not unreasonable to conclude that such a practice originated in the ancient curfew hours. It may be little heeded amidst the bustle of a metropolis; but in the country, where men's minds are more tranquil and less distracted, the curfew may fall, like "good seed," into the hearts of the listener, and with its solemn sound remind him of the Providence that has refreshed him with sleep, invigorated him through the day, again brought him to the repose of night, and its devotional exercise; for, as beautifully remarked by a philosopher, sleep is elder brother to death, and so like him that he durst not trust himself asleep without saying his prayers.

Among the towns wherein the curfew is rung to this day is that of Sandwich, one of the oldest

places in England. At St. Helen's Church, Abingdon, the curfew is rung at eight in the evening and four in the morning. At Winchester it was formerly rung in the morning, but discontinued a few years since: it is, however, still rung nightly at eight: the bell weighs twelve hundredweight, it does not belong to the church, but is hung in the tower of the Guildhall, and used only on this occasion, and on an alarm of fire; and this custom can be traced, in the city records, to the time of the Conqueror. The curfew is likewise rung nightly at Southampton, Downton, Ringwood, and many other towns towards the west of England.

The only existing representation of the curfew is upon the authority of Mr. Grose, the ingenious and respected antiquary, who received a drawing of it from the Rev. F. Gostling, who long had a curfew in his possession: it had been in his family for time immemorial, and was always called the curfew. Some others of the kind were also remaining in the last century in Kent and Sussex.

The method of using the curfew was as follows: the wood and embers were raked as close as possible to the back of the hearth, and then the curfew was put over them, the open part being placed close to the back of the chimney; by this contrivance the air being almost totally excluded, the fire was, of course, extinguished. The curfew was of copper, riveted together, as solder would have been liable to melt with the