Astute almanackers will recall that we touched upon those lovable Roman twins, Romulus and Uncle Remus, back on January 1. (Many others tried their best to forget on January 2 and were largely successful.) The next few sentences contain a lot of funny names which you do not need to remember. Romulus and Remus were born in Alba Longa to Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin and daughter of King Numitor who had been overthrown by his brother Amulius. Rhea conceived them when their daddy, Mars (yes, the god), came to her in a sacred grove. He got her in the garden, folks.
King Amulius thought the twins might prove a threat to his throne, so naturally he ordered them killed. They were left to die on the banks of the Tiber (not a particularly effective homicide technique) but were saved by Tiberinus, another god, suckled by a she-wolf (hear that, Mowgli?) and adopted by a shepherd, Faustulus. They grew up among the sheep, unaware of their royal demigod identities (and evidently not knowing that wolves eat sheep).
This all took place in the locale that would become known as Rome. As the years passed quickly backwards, the boys grew up, killed Amulius, and reinstated Numitor as king. They got to thinking that Europe could use another major metropolis, something of the Alexandria or Carthage sort. Unfortunately, they couldn’t agree on which of the seven hills to build their city. They quibbled, they argued, they battled and Romulus slew Remus. (This is something we can’t be absolutely sure of, given the fact they were twins. “I’m Romulus and I just killed my twin brother Remus.” “No I’m Romulus and my brother just killed me.”
In any event, Romulus is credited with being the true founder of Rome. Had it been his brother, it would now be called Reme.
Hustle and Bustle
Among the many advances of the 19th century, the idea that Alexander Douglas patented on this day in 1857 hardly stands out. At first glance the bustle seems to have no useful function beyond making a woman’s butt seem larger. But on closer inspection this item of apparel has some noteworthy attributes. The bustle replaced the infamous crinoline, a contraption that was like a large metal bird cage strapped to the unfortunate female wearer. Not only was it difficult to navigate in, it was also impossible to exit in a hurry should the flammable fabric covering it catch fire which it frequently did (killing some 3,000 women in England during the 1860s.
The bustle also had a utilitarian function, keeping milady’s dress from dragging through the mud. And there was plenty of mud around during the 19th century. The bustle pretty much disappeared during the latter part of the century, allowing women to occasionally sit down.
Wretched Richard's Almanac 