not easy to explain in writing even so much of
it as I know. Each combat consists of the same number of cuts, to the
best of my remembrance, and the "shoulder cuts" (which look very like
two persons sharpening two knives as close as possible to each other's
nose!) are in double time, twice as quick as the others. The stage
directions are as follows:--

A. and B. fight

Cut I ... ... Crossing each other.
(They change places, striking as they pass.)

Cut 2 ... ... " " back.

Cut 3 ... ... " " other.

Cut 4 ... ... " " back.

Four shoulder cuts.

A. loses his sword and falls.

But I do not think the version from which this is an extract is at all
an elaborate one. There ought to be a "Triumph," with an archway of
swords, in the style of Sir Roger de Coverley. After the passing and
repassing strokes, there is usually much more hand-to-hand fighting,
then four shoulder cuts, and some are aimed high and some down among
their ankles, in a way which would probably be quite clear to any one
trained in broadsword exercise.

The following Christmas Mumming Play is compiled from five
versions--the "Peace Egg," the "Wassail Cup," "Alexander the Great,"
"A Mock Play," and the "Silverton Mummer's Play" (Devon), which has
been lent to me in manuscript.

The Mumming Chorus, "And a mumming we will go," &c., is not in any one
of these versions, but I never saw mumming without it.

The Silverton version is an extreme example of the continuous
development of these unwritten dramas. Generation after generation,
the most incongruous characters have been added. In some cases this is
a very striking testimony to the strength of rural sympathy with the
great deeds and heroes of the time, as well as to native talent for
dramatic composition.

Wellington and Wolfe almost eclipsed St. George in some parts of
England, and the sea Heroes are naturally popular in Devonshire. The
death of Nelson in the Silverton play has fine dramatic touches.
Though he "has but one arm and a good one too," he essays to
fight--whether Tippo Saib or St. George is not made clear. He falls,
and St. George calls for the Doctor in the usual words. The Doctor
ends his peculiar harangue with: "Britons! our Nelson is dead." To
which a voice, which seems to play the part of Greek chorus,
responds--"But he is not with the dead, but in the arms of the Living
God!" Then, enter Collingwood--

"_Collingwood_-