Ascension Bumps

U. S. tourists dozing last week in the morgue-like lobby of the Hotel Cecil in London awoke with a start as a strange procession wound between the marble pillars and overstuffed chairs. First came a clergyman in surplice and stole. Then came a number of large dignified gentlemen in silk hats and cutaway coats, and finally a file of choir boys, correctly black cassocked and white collared but with hair strangely mussed, cheeks unusually bright.

"I fancy that this is about the spot," said the leader of the dignified gentlemen, stopping in front of one of the Cecil lobby's marble pillars. And to the astonishment of foreign onlookers he seized one of the choir boys by the scruff, hustled him forward and bumped his head vigorously against the pillar. The procession moved on into the dining room, the doors were closed behind them.

The Cecil's desk clerk was, of course, obliged to explain. A dozen times he repeated to a dozen querists:

"This is Ascension Day, sir. The boys of St. Clement Danes choir school are being shown the boundaries of the parish."

In the year 1559, direct, businesslike Queen Elizabeth, decided that something should be done to stop the boys of St. Clement Danes choir school from wandering all over the city. The boys must stay within the boundaries of their own parish, said brisk Queen Bess, and they must learn where those boundaries lay in the following manner:

Each Ascension Day all the choir boys and a "party of substantial men" must go to St. Clement Danes Church and hear a sermon on the text: "Cursed be he that transgresseth the bounds and doles of his neighbor." Then, led by the rector, the choir boys and the "substantial men" must make a tour of the parish boundaries. In order that they shall never forget just where the boundaries are, the Virgin Queen decreed that the substantial men must soundly bump the heads of the choir boys against each boundary mark.

Hotels and office buildings have obliterated most of the original posts, but the annual boundary patrol still marches, the choir boys are vigorously bumped against office desks, lamp posts--whatever objects stand on the traditional spots.

Proud of this connection with England's ancient glories, the managers of the modern commercial Hotel Cecil give an elaborate annual luncheon to bumpers and bumpees.