  Then came October, full of merry glee, For yet his noule was totty of the must, Which he was treading, in the wine-fat’s see, And of the joyous oyle, whose gentle gust Made him so frollick, and so full of lust: Upon a dreadfull scorpion he did ride, The same which by Dianae’s doom unjust Slew great Orion; and eeke by his side He had his ploughing-share, and coulter ready tyde. Spenser. This is the tenth month of the year. From our Saxon ancestors, “October had the name of Wyn-monat,” wyn signifying wine; “and albeit they had not anciently wines made in Germany, yet in this season had they them from divers countries adjoining.” In noticing the stanza, beneath the above engraving by Mr. Williams from his own design, Mr. Leigh Hunt says, that “Spenser, in marching his months before great nature, drew his descriptions of them from the world and its customs in general; but turn his October wine-vats into cider-presses and brewing-tubs, and it will do as well.” He continues to observe, that “This month on account of its steady temperature, is chosen for the brewing of such malt liquor as is designed for keeping. The farmer continues to sow his corn, and the gardener plants “Fruits continue in abundance during this month, as everybody knows from the shop-keeper; for our grosser senses are well informed, if our others are not. We have yet to discover that imaginative pleasures are as real and touching as they, and give them their deepest relish. The additional flowers in October are almost confined to the anemone and scabious; and the flowering-trees and shrubs to the evergreen cytisus. But the hedges (and here let us observe, that the fields and other walks that are free to every one are sure to supply us with pleasure, when every other place fails,) are now sparkling with their abundant berries,—the wild rose with the hip, the hawthorn with the haw, the blackthorn with the sloe, the bramble with the blackberry; and the briony, privet, honeysuckle, elder, holly, and woody nightshade, with their other winter feasts for the birds. The wine obtained from the elder-berry makes a very pleasant and wholesome drink, when heated over a fire; but the humbler sloe, which the peasants eat, gets the start of him in reputation, by changing its name to port, of which wine it certainly makes a considerable ingredient. A gentleman, who lately figured in the beau-monde, and carried coxcombry to a pitch of the ingenious, was not aware how much truth he was uttering in his pleasant and disavowing definition of port wine: ‘A strong intoxicating liquor much drank by the lower orders.’ “Swallows are generally seen for the last time this month, the house-martin the latest. The red-wing, field-fare, snipe, Royston crow, and wood-pigeon, return from more northern parts. The rooks return to the roost trees, and the tortoise begins to bury himself for the winter. The mornings and afternoons increase in mistiness, though the middle of the day is often very fine; and no weather when it is unclouded, is apt to give a clearer and manlier sensation than that of October. One of the most curious natural appearances is the gossamer, which is an infinite multitude of little threads shot out by minute spiders, who are thus wafted by the wind from place to place. “The chief business of October, in the great economy of nature, is dissemination, which is performed among other means by the high winds which now return. Art imitates her as usual, and sows and plants also. We have already mentioned the gardener. This is the time for the domestic cultivator of flowers to finish planting as well, especially the bulbs that are intended to flower early in spring. And as the chief business of nature this month is dissemination or vegetable birth, so its chief beauty arises from vegetable death itself. We need not tell our readers we allude to the changing leaves with all their lights and shades of green, amber, red, light red, light and dark green, white, brown, russet, and yellow of all sorts.” The orient is lighted with crimson glow, The night and its dreams are fled, And the glorious roll of nature now Is in all its brightness spread. The autumn has tinged the trees with gold, And crimson’d the shrubs of the hills; And the full seed sleeps in earth’s bosom cold; And hope all the universe fills. October 1.St. Remigius, A. D. 533. St. Bavo, Patron of Ghent, A. D. 653. St. Piat, A. D. 286. St. Wasnulf, or Wasnon, A. D. 651. St. Fidharleus, Abbot in Ireland, A. D. 762. Festival of the Rosary. Remigius.This is another saint in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. He was bishop or archbishop of Rheims, and the instructor of Clovis, the first king of the Franks who professed christianity; Remigius baptized him by trine immersion. The accession of Clovis to the church, is deemed to have been the origin of the “most christian king,” and the “eldest son of the church,” which the kings of France are stiled in the present times. Salters’ Company.The beadles and Servants of the worshipful company of salters are to attend divine service at St. Magnus church, London-bridge, pursuant to the will of sir John Salter, who died in the year 1605; who was a good benefactor to the said company, and ordered that the beadles and servants should go to the said church the first week in October, three times each person, and say, “How do you do brother Salter? I hope you are well!” FLORAL DIRECTORY.Lowly Amaryllis. Amaryllis humilis. October 2.Feast of the Holy Angel-Guardians. St. Thomas, Bp. of Hereford, A. D. 1282. St. Leodegarius, or Leger, A. D. 678. Guardian-Angels.The festival of “the Holy Angel-Guardians” as they are called by Butler, is this day kept by his church. He says that, “according to St. Thomas,” when the angels were created, the lowest among them were enlightened by those that were supreme in the orders. It is not to be gathered from him how many orders there were; but Holme says, that “after the fall of Lucifer the bright star and his company, there remained still in heaven more angels then ever there was, is, and shall be, men born in the earth.” He adds, that they are “ranked into nine orders or chorus, called the nine quoires of holy angels;” and he ranks them thus:—
Some authors put them in this sequence: 1. seraphims; 2. cherubims; 3. thrones; 4. dominions; 5. virtues; 6. powers; 7. principalities; 8. archangels; 9. angels. Holme adds, that “God never erected any order, rule, or government, but the devil did and will imitate him; for where God hath his church, the devil will have his synagogue.” The latter part of this affirmation is versified by honest Daniel De Foe. He begins his “True-born Englishman” with it:— Wherever God erects a house of prayer The devil’s sure to have a chapel there. Angel, in its primitive sense, denotes a messenger, and frequently signifies men, when, from the common notion of the term, it is conceived to denote ministering spirits. Angels, as celestial intelligences, have been the objects of over curious inquiry, and of worship. Paul prohibits this: “Let no man,” he says, “beguile you of your reward, in a voluntary humility, and the worshipping of angels, intruding into those things which he hath not seen.” Amid the multiplicity of representations by Roman catholic writers concerning angels, are these by Father Lewis Henriques, “That the streets of Paradise are adorned with tapestry, and all the histories of the world are engraven on the This occupation of the angels agrees with the occupations that Henriques assigns to the saints; who, according to him, are to enjoy, with other pleasures, the recreation of bathing: “There shall be pleasant bathes for that purpose; they shall swim like fishes, and sing as melodious as nightingales; the men and women shall delight themselves with muscarades, feasts and ballads; women shall sing more pleasantly than men, that the delight may be greater; and women shall rise again with very long hair, and shall appear with ribands and laces as they do upon earth.” Father Henriques was a Jesuit, and communicates this information in a book entitled, “The Business of the Saints in Heaven,” published by the written authority of Father Prado, the Provincial of the order of Jesuits at Castille, dated at Salamanca, April 28th, 1631. Hannah Want.Hannah Want. “For Age and Want save while you may No morning sun lasts a whole day.” The Times and other journals report the “obit” of this female. “On the 2nd of October, 1825, died Mrs. Hannah Want, at Ditchingham, Norfolk, in the 106th year of her age. She was born on the 20th of August, 1720, and throughout An intelligent correspondent writes: “As it is not an ‘every-day’ occurrence for people to live so long, perhaps you may be pleased to immortalize Hannah Want, by giving her a leaf of your Every-Day Book.” That the old lady may live as long after her death as this work shall be her survivor the Editor can promise, “with remainder over” to his survivors. Hannah Want, in common with all long-livers, was an early riser. The following particulars are derived from a correspondent. She was seldom out of bed after nine at night, and even in winter; and towards the last of her life, was seldom in it after six in the morning. Her sleep was uniformly sound and tranquil; her eye-sight till within the last three years was clear; her appetite, till two days before her death, good; her memory excellent; she could recollect and discourse on whatever she knew during the last century. Her diet was plain common food, meat and poultry, pudding and dumpling, bread and vegetables in moderate quantities; she drank temperately, very temperately, of good, very good, mild home-brewed beer. During the last twenty years she had not taken tea, though to that period she had been accustomed to it. She never had the small pox, and never had been ill. Her first seventy-five years were passed at Bungay in Suffolk, her last thirty at the adjoining village of Ditchingham in Norfolk. She was the daughter of a farmer named Knighting. Her husband, John Want, a maltster, died on Christmas-day, 1802, at the age of eighty-five, leaving Hannah ill provided for, with an affectionate and dutiful daughter, who was better than house and land; for she cherished her surviving parent when “age and want, that ill-matched pair, make countless thousands mourn.” Hannah Want was of a serious and sedate turn; not very talkative, yet cheerfully joining in conversation. She was a plain, frugal, careful wife and mother; less inclined to insist on rights, than to perform duties; these she executed in all respects, “and all without hurry or care.” Her stream of life was a gentle flow of equanimity, unruffled by storm or accident, till it was exhausted. She was never put out of her way but once, and that was when the house wherein she lived at Bungay was burned down, and none of the furniture saved, save one featherbed. In answer to a series of questions from the Editor, respecting this aged and respectable female, addressed to another correspondent, he says, “What a work you make about an old woman! ‘I’ll answer none of your silly questions; ax Briant!’ as a neighbouring magistrate said to sir Edmund Bacon, who was examining him in a court of justice. The old woman was well enough. There is nothing more to be learned about her, than how long a body may crawl upon the earth, and think nothing worth thinking—as if ‘thinking was but an idle waste of thought;’ and how long a person to whom ‘naught is every thing, and every thing is nothing’, did nothing worth doing. I suppose that the noted H. W. knew as much of life in 105 hours, as Hannah Want did in 105 years. All I know or can learn about her is nothing, and if you can make any thing of it you may. Some of our free-knowledgists, ‘with a pale cast of thought’ have taken a cast of her head, and discovered that her organ of self-destructiveness was harmonized by the organ of long-livitiveness.” This latter correspondent is too hard upon Hannah; but he encloses information on another subject that may be useful hereafter, and therefore what he amusingly says respecting her, is at the service of those readers who are qualified to make something of nothing. A portrait of Hannah Want, in 1824, when she was in her 104th year, taken by Mr. Robert Childs, “an ingenious gentleman” of Bungay, and etched by him, furnishes the present engraving of her. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Friars’ Minors Soapwort. Saponaria Officinalis. October 3.St. Dionysius the Areopagite, A. D. 51. St. Gerard, Abbot, A. D. 959. The two Ewalds, A. D. 690. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Downy Helenium. Helenium pubescens. SONNET. I always lov’d thee, and thy yellow garb, October dear!—and I have hailed thy reign, On many a lovely, many a distant plain, But here, thou claim’st my warmest best regard. Not e’en the noble banks of silver Seine Can rival Derwent’s—where proud Chatsworth’s tow’rs Reflect Sol’s setting rays—as now yon chain Of gold-tipp’d mountains crown her lawns and bowers. Here, countless beauties catch the ravish’d view, Majestic scenes, all silent as the tomb; Save where the murmuring of Derwent’s wave, To tenderest feelings the rapt soul subdue, While shadowy forms seem gliding through the gloom To visit those again they lov’d this side the grave. Rickman. October 4.St. Francis of Assisium, A. D. 1226. Sts. Marcus, Marcian, &c. St. Petronius, Bp. A. D. 430. St. Ammon, Hermit, A. D. 308. St. Aurea, Abbess, A. D. 666. St. Edwin, King, A. D. 633. The Martyrs of Triers. Sale of | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Stitching the collar, four rows | 3,000 | |
| Sewing the ends | 500 | |
| Button-holes, and sewing on buttons | 150 | |
| Sewing on the collar and gathering the neck | 1,204 | |
| Stitching wristbands | 1,228 | |
| Sewing the ends | 68 | |
| Button-holes | 148 | |
| Hemming the slits | 264 | |
| Gathering the sleeves | 840 | |
| Setting on wristbands | 1,468 | |
| Stitching shoulder-straps, three rows each | 1,880 | |
| Hemming the neck | 390 | |
| Sewing the sleeves | 2,554 | |
| Setting in sleeves and gussets | 3,050 | |
| Taping the sleeves | 1,526 | |
| Sewing the seams | 848 | |
| Setting side gussets | 424 | |
| Hemming the bottom | 1,104 | |
| Total number of stitches | 20,646 | in |
| My aunt’s grandfather’s plain shirt, | ||
| As witness my hand, | ||
| Gertrude Grizenhoofe. | ||
Cottenham,
Near Cambridge,
Sept. 1825.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Wavy Fleabane. Inula undulata.
Dedicated to St. Wilfred.
October 13.
St. Edward, King and Confessor, A. D. 1066. Sts. Faustus, Januarius, and Martialis, A. D. 304. Seven Friar Minors, Martyrs, A. D. 1221. St. Colman, A. D., 1012. St. Gerald, Count of Aurillac, or Orilhac, A. D. 909.
Translation King Edward Confessor.
This, in the church of England calendar and almanacs, denotes the day to be a festival to the memory of the removal of his bones or relics, as they are called by the Roman church, from whence the festival is derived.
Corpulency.
On the 13th of October, 1754, died at
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Smooth Helenium. Helenium autumnale.
Dedicated to St. Edward.
October 14.
St. Calixtus, or Callistus, Pope, A. D. 222. St. Donatian, Bp. A. D. 389. St. Burckard, 1st Bp. of Wurtsburg, A. D. 752. St. Dominic, surnamed Loricatus, A. D. 1060.
THE YEAR.
The year is now declining; “the sear, the yellow leaf” falls, and “dies in October.” There is a moral in every thing to moralizing minds; these indications of wear on the face of the earth, induce moralities on the use and abuse of time.
The Hare and Tortoise.
When birds convers’d as well as sung,
When use of speech was not confin’d
Merely to brutes of human kind,
A forward hare, of swiftness vain,
The genius of the neighb’ring plain,
Would oft deride the drudging crowd:
For geniuses are ever proud.
He’d boast, his flight ’twere vain to follow,
For dog and horse he’d beat them hollow;
Nay, if he put forth all his strength,
Outstrip his brethren half a length.
And vented thus his indignation:
“Oh puss! it bodes thee dire disgrace,
When I defy thee to the race.
Come, ’tis a match, nay, no denial,
I’ll lay my shell upon the trial.”
’Twas done and done, all fair, a bet,
Judges prepar’d, and distance set.
The creeping tortoise lagg’d behind,
And scarce had pass’d a single pole,
When puss had almost reach’d the goal.
“Friend tortoise,” quoth the jeering hare,
“Your burthen’s more than you can bear,
To help your speed it were as well
That I should ease you of your shell:
Jog on a little faster, pr’ythee,
I’ll take a nap, and then be with thee.”
So said, so done, and safely sure,
For say, what conquest more secure?
Whene’er he walk’d (that’s all that’s in it)
He could o’ertake him in a minute.
But still resolv’d to persevere,
Still drawl’d along, as who should say,
I’ll win, like Fabius, by delay;
On to the goal securely crept,
While puss unknowing soundly slept.
When thus the victor tortoise spoke:
“Puss, tho’ I own thy quicker parts,
Things are not always done by starts,
You may deride my awkward pace,
But slow and steady wins the race.”
Lloyd.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Indian Fleabane. Inula Indica.
Dedicated to St. Calixtus.
October 15.
St. Teresa, Virgin, A. D. 1582. St. Tecla, Abbess. St. Hospicius, or Hospis, A. D. 580.
Scent of Dogs, and Tobacco.
A contemporary kalendarian
Depend the hunter’s hopes. When ruddy streaks
At eve forebode a blustering stormy day,
Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain’s brow,
When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blasts
Of the dry parching east, menace the trees
With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spare
Thy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of straw
Low sinking at their ease; listless they shrink
Into some dark recess, nor hear thy voice
Thought oft invoked; or haply if thy call
Rouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes
Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tails
Inverted; high on their bent backs erect
Their pointed bristles stare, or ’mong the tufts
Of ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plant
Curious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn.
These inauspicious days, on other cares
Employ thy precious hours.”
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Sweet Sultan. Centaurea moschi.
Dedicated to St. Teresa.
October 16.
St. Gall, Abbot, A. D. 646. St. Lullus, or Lullon, Abp., A. D. 787. St. Mummolin, or Mommolin, Bp. A. D. 665.
CUSTOM AT ESKDALE, YORKSHIRE.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
Ascension-day, whereon there is a remarkable annual custom in maintenance of a tenure, has passed, but as it originated from a circumstance on the 16th of October, you can introduce it on that day, and it will probably be informing as well as amusing to the majority of readers. The narrative is derived from a tract formerly published at Whitby. I am, &c.
Wentana Civis.
On this day in the fifth year of the reign of king Henry II. after the conquest of England, (1140,) by William, duke of Normandy, the lord of Uglebarnby, then called William de Bruce, the lord of Snaynton, called Ralph de Percy, and a gentleman freeholder called Allotson, did meet to hunt the wild boar, in a certain wood or desert, called Eskdale side; the wood or place did belong to the abbot of the monastery of Whitby in Yorkshire, who was then called Sedman, and abbot of the said place.
Then, the aforesaid gentlemen did meet with their hounds and boar-staves in the place aforesaid, and there found a great wild boar; and the hounds did run him very hard, near the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale side, where there was a monk of Whitby, who was an hermit; and the boar being so hard pursued, took in at the chapel door, and there laid him down, and died immediately, and the hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself at his meditation and prayers; the hounds standing at bay without, the gentlemen in the thick of the wood, put behind their game, in following the cry of the hounds, came to the hermitage and found the hounds round the chapel; then came the gentlemen to the door of the chapel, and called on the hermit, who did open the door, and then they got forth, and within lay the boar dead, for which the gentlemen, in a fury, because their hounds were put out of their game, run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereof he died; then the gentlemen knowing, and perceiving that he was in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough; but at that time, the abbot, being in great favour with the king, did remove them out of the sanctuary, whereby they became in danger of the law, and not privileged, but like to have the severity of the law, which was death. But the hermit being a holy man, and being very sick and at the point of death, sent for the abbot, and desired him to send for the gentlemen, who had wounded him to death; so doing, the gentlemen came, and the hermit being sick, said, “I am sure
N. B. This service is still annually performed.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Yarrow. AchillÆ multifolium.
Dedicated to St. Gall.
October 17.
St. Hedwiges, or Avoice, duchess of Poland, A. D. 1243, St. Anstrudis, or Anstru, A. D. 688. St. Andrew of Crete, A. D. 761.
St. Etheldreda.
She was daughter of Annas, king of the East Angles, and born about 630, at Ixning, formerly a town of note on the western border of Suffolk, next Cambridgeshire. At Coldingham Abbey, Yorkshire, she took the veil under Ebba, daughter of king Ethelfrida, an abbess, afterwards celebrated for having saved herself and her nuns from the outrage of the Danes by mutilating their faces; the brutal invaders enclosed them in their convent and destroyed them by fire.
Notwithstanding Etheldreda’s vow to remain a nun, she was twice forced by her parents to marry, and yet maintained her vow; hence she is styled, in the Romish breviaries, “twice a widow and always a virgin.” On the death of her first husband Tonbert, a nobleman of the East Angles, the isle of Ely became her sole property by jointure, and she founded a convent, and the convent church there; and for their maintenance endowed them with the whole island. She married her second husband Egfrid, king of Northumberland, on the death of Tonbert, in 671, but persisted in her vow, and died abbess of her convent on the 23d of June, 679. On the 17th of October, sixteen years afterwards, her relics were translated, and therefore on this day her festival is commemorated. In 870, the Danes made a descent on the isle of Ely, destroyed the convent and slaughtered the inhabitants. By abbreviation her name became corrupted to Auldrey and Audrey.
Tawdry—St. Audrey.
As at the annual fair in the isle of Ely, called St. Audrey’s fair, “much ordinary but showy lace was usually sold to the country lasses, St. Audrey’s lace soon became proverbial, and from that cause Taudry, a corruption of St. Audrey, was established as a common expression to denote not only lace, but any other part of female dress, which was much more gaudy in appearance than warranted by its real quality and value.” This is the assertion of Mr. Brady, in his “Clavis Calendaria,” who, for aught that appears to the contrary, gives the derivation of the word as his own conjecture, but Mr. Archdeacon Nares, in his admirable “Glossary,” shows the meaning to have been derived from Harpsfield, “an old English historian,” who refers to the appellation, and “makes St. Audrey die of a swelling in her throat, which she considered as a particular judgment, for having been in her youth much addicted to wearing fine necklaces.” There is not now any grounds to doubt that tawdry comes from St. Audrey. It was so derived in Dr. Johnson’s “Dictionary” before Mr. Todd’s edition. Dr. Ash deemed the word of “uncertain etymology.”
HARES AND SQUIRRELS.
The pleasant correspondent of Mr. Urban, whose account of his squirrels is introduced on the seventh day of the present month, was induced, by Mr. Cowper’s experience in the management of his hares, to procure a hare about three weeks old. “The little creature,” he says, “at first pined for his dam, and his liberty, and refused food. In a few days I prevailed with him to take some milk from my lips, and this is still his favourite method of drinking. Soon after, observing that he greedily lapped sweet things, I dipped a cabbage-leaf in honey, and thus tempted him to eat the first solid food he ever tasted. I beg leave to add to Mr Cowper’s bill of fare, nuts, walnuts, pears, sweet cakes of all kinds, sea biscuits, sugar, and, above all, apple-pie. Every thing which is hard and crisp seems to be particularly relished.—The iris of the hare is very beautiful; it has the appearance of the gills of a young mushroom, seeming to consist of very delicate fibres, disposed like radii issuing from a common centre. I shall be glad to be informed by any person, skilled in anatomy, whether this structure of the iris be not of use to enable the eye to bear the constant action of the light; as it is a common opinion that this animal sleeps, even in the day-time, with its eyes open. I have observed, likewise, that the fur of the hare is more strongly electrical than the hair of any other animal. If you apply the point of a finger to his side in frosty weather, the hairs are immediately strongly attracted towards it from all points, and closely embrace the finger on every side.”
It should be added from this agreeable writer, as regards the squirrel, that he was much surprised at the great advantage the little animal derives from his extended tail, which brings his body so nearly to an equipoise with the air, as to render a leap or fall from the greatest height perfectly safe to him. “My squirrel has more than once leaped from the window of the second story, and alighted on stone steps, or on hard gravel, without suffering any inconvenience. But I should be glad to have confirmation, from an eye-witness, of what Mr. Pennant relates on the credit of LinnÆus, Klein, Rzaczinski, and Scheffer, viz. that a squirrel sometimes crosses a river on a piece of bark by way of boat, using his tail as a sail. Not less astonishing is the undaunted courage of these little brutes: they seem sometimes resolved to conquer as it were, by reflection and fortitude, their natural instinctive fears. I have often known a squirrel tremble and scream at the first sight of a dog or cat, and yet, within a few minutes, after several abortive attempts, summon resolution enough to march up and smell at the very nose of his gigantic enemy. These approaches he always makes by short abrupt leaps, stamping the ground with his feet as loud as he can; his whole mien and countenance most ridiculously expressive of ancient Pistol’s affected valour and intrepidity.”
IN RE SQUIRRELS.
Be it remembered, that C. L. comes here and represents his relations; that is to say, on behalf of the recollections, being the next of kin, of him, the said C. L., and of sundry persons who are “aye treading” in the manner of squirrels aforesaid; and thus he saith:—
For the Every-Day Book.
What is gone with the Cages with the climbing Squirrel and bells to them, which were formerly the indispensable appendage to the outside of a Tinman’s shop, and were in fact the only Live Signs? One, we believe, still hangs out on Holborn; but they are fast vanishing with the good old modes of our ancestors. They seem to have been superseded by that still more ingenious refinement of modern humanity—the Tread-mill; in which human Squirrels still perform a similar round of ceaseless, improgressive clambering; which must be nuts to them.
We almost doubt the fact of the teeth of this creature being so purely orange-coloured, as Mr. Urban’s correspondent gives out. One of our old poets—and they were pretty sharp observers of nature—describes them as brown. But perhaps the naturalist referred to meant “of the colour of a Maltese orange,”
C. L.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Tenleaved Sunflower. Helianthus decapetalus.
Dedicated to St. Anstrudis.
Is the learned Poet’s good,
Sweeter yet did never crown
The head of Bacchus; nuts more brown
Than the squirrels’ teeth that crack them.——
October 18.
St. Luke the Evangelist, A. D. 63. St. Julian Sabus, 4th Cent. St. Justin. St. Monon, 7th Cent.
St. Luke.
The name of this evangelist is in the church of England calendar and almanacs on this day, which was appointed his festival by the Romish church in the twelfth century. As a more convenient occasion will occur for a suitable notice of his history and character, it is deferred till then. It is presumed that he died about the year 70, in the eighty-fourth year of his age, having written his gospel about seven or eight years before.
CHARLTON FAIR.
Commonly called
HORN FAIR.
At the pleasant village of Charlton, on the north side of Blackheath, about eight miles from London, a fair is held annually on St. Luke’s day. It is called “Horn Fair,” from the custom of carrying horns at it formerly, and the frequenters still wearing them. A foreigner travelling in England in the year 1598, mentions horns to have been conspicuously displayed in its neighbourhood at that early period. “Upon taking the air down the river (from London), on the left hand lies Ratcliffe, a considerable suburb. On the opposite shore is fixed a long pole with rams-horns upon it, the intention of which was vulgarly said to be a reflection upon wilful and contented cuckolds.”
“A sermon,” says Mr. Brand, “is preached at Charlton church on the fair-day.” This sermon is now discontinued on the festival-day: the practice was created by a bequest of twenty shillings a year to the minister of the parish for preaching it.
The horn-bearing at this fair may be conjectured to have originated from the symbol, accompanying the figure of St. Luke: when he is represented by sculpture or painting, he is usually in the act of writing, with an ox or cow by his side, whose horns are conspicuous. These seem to have been seized by the former inhabitants of Charlton on the day of the saint’s festival, as a lively mode of sounding forth their rude pleasure for the holiday. Though most of the painted glass in the windows of the church was destroyed during the troubles in the time of Charles I., yet many fragments remain of St. Luke’s ox with wings on his back, and goodly horns upon his head: indeed, with the exception of two or three armorial bearings, and a few cherubs’ heads, these figures of St. Luke’s horned symbol, which escaped destruction, and are carefully placed in the upper part of the windows, are the only painted glass remaining; save also, however, that in the east window, there are the head and shoulders of the saint himself, and the same parts of the figure of Aaron.
The procession of horns, customary at Charlton fair, has ceased; but horns still continue to be sold from the lowest to “the best booth in the fair.” They are chiefly those of sheep, goats, and smaller animals, and are usually gilt and decorated for their less innocent successors to these ornaments. The fair is still a kind of carnival or masquerade. On St. Luke’s-day, 1825, though the weather was unfavourable to the customary humours, most of the visitors wore masks; several were disguised in women’s clothes, and some assumed whimsical characters. The spacious and celebrated Crown and Anchor booth was the principal scene of their amusements. The fair is now held in a private field: formerly it was on the green opposite the church, and facing the mansion of sir Thomas Wilson. The late lady Wilson was a great admirer and patroness of the fair; the old lady was accustomed to come down with her attendants every morning during the fair, “and in long order go,” from the steps of her ancient hall, to without the gates of her court-yard, when the bands of the different shows hailed her appearance, as a signal to strike up their melody of discords: Richardson, always pitched his great booth in front of the house. Latterly, however, the fair has diminished; Richardson was not there in 1825, nor were there any shows of consequence. “Horns! horns!” were the customary and chief cry, and the most conspicuous source of frolic: they were in the hat and bonnet of almost every person in the rout. A few years ago, it was usual for neighbouring gentry to proceed thither in their carriages during the morning to see the sports. The fair lasts three days.
One of the pleasantest walks from Greenwich is over Blackheath, along by the park-wall to Charlton; and from thence after passing through that village, across Woolwich common and Plumstead common, along green lanes, over the foot
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Floccose Agaric. Agaricus floccosus.
Dedicated to St. Luke, Evangelist.
October 19.
St. Peter, of Alcantara, A. D. 1562. Sts. Ptolemy, Lucius, and another, A. D. 166. St. Frideswide, patroness of Oxford, 8th Cent. St. Ethbin, or Egbin, Abbot, 6th Cent.
The Last Rose of Summer.
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh!
To pine on the stem,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o’er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
When friendships decay,
And from love’s shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
Moore.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Tall Tickseed. Coreopsis procosa.
Dedicated to St. Frideswide.
October 20.
St. Artemius, A. D. 362. St. Barsabias, Abbot, and others, A. D. 342. St. Zenobius, Bp. St. Sindulphus, or St. Sendou, 7th Cent. St. Adian, Bp. of Mayo, A. D. 768.
Migration of Birds.
Woodcocks have now arrived. In the autumn and setting in of winter they keep dropping in from the Baltic singly, or in pairs, till December. They instinctively land in the night, or in dark misty weather, for they are never seen to arrive, but are frequently discovered the next morning in any ditch which affords them shelter, after the extraordinary fatigue occasioned by the adverse gales which they often have to encounter in their aËrial voyage. They do not remain near the shores longer than a day, when they are sufficiently recruited to proceed inland, and they visit the very same haunts which they left the preceding season. In temperate weather they retire to mossy moors, and high bleak mountainous parts; but as soon as the frost sets in, and the snows begin to fall, they seek lower and warmer situations, with boggy grounds and springs, and little oozing mossy rills, which are rarely frozen, where they shelter in close bushes of holly and furze, and the brakes of woody glens, or in dells which are covered with underwood: here they remain concealed during the day, and remove to different haunts and feed only in the night. From the beginning of March to the end of that month, or sometimes to the middle of April, they all keep drawing towards the coasts, and avail themselves of the first fair wind to return to their native woods.—The snipe, scolopax gallinago, also comes now, and inhabits similar situations. It is migratory, and met with in all countries: like the woodcock, it shuns the extremes of heat and cold, by keeping upon the bleak moors in summer, and seeking the shelter of the valleys in winter. In unfrozen boggy places, runners from springs, or any open streamlets of water, they are often found in considerable numbers.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Yellow Sultan. Centaurea suavcolens.
Dedicated to St. Artemius.
October 21.
Sts. Ursula, and her Companions, 5th Cent. St. Hilarion, Abbot, A. D. 371.
The Season.
After a harvest with a good barley crop, a few minutes may be seasonably amused by a pleasant ballad.
John Barleycorn.
Three kings both great and high,
An’ they ha’ sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d he began to fail.
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
And cut him by the knee;
Then ty’d him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn’d him o’er and o’er.
With water to the brim,
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
To work him farther woe,
And still as signs of life appear’d,
They toss’d him to and fro.
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
’Twill make your courage rise.
’Twill heighten all his joy:
’Twill make the widow’s heart to sing
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne’er fail in old Scotland!
Burns.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Hairy Silphium. Silphium asteriscus.
Dedicated to St. Ursula.
October 22.
St. Philip, Bp. of Heraclea, and others, A. D. 304. Sts. Nunilo and Alodia, A. D. 840. St. Donatus, Bp. of Fiesoli, in Tuscany, A. D. 816. St. Mello, or Melanius, 4th Cent. St. Mark, Bp. A. D. 156.
St. Mark, Bishop of Jerusalem.
The two first bishops of Jerusalem were “the apostle St. James and his brother St. Simeon; thirteen bishops who succeeded them were of the Jewish nation.” Upon an edict of the emperor Adrian, prohibiting all Jews from coming to Jerusalem, Mark, being a Gentile Christian, was chosen bishop of the Christians in that city, and was their first Gentile bishop. He is said to have been martyred in 156.
The Season.
They who think the affections are always in season, may not deem these lines out of season.
TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION.
To a Mother.
When o’er my cradle first thy tears
Were blended with maternal fears,
And anxious doubts for me;
How often rose my lisping prayer,
That heav’n a mother’s life would spare,
Who watch’d with such incessant care,
My helpless infancy.
Yet fain I’d breathe an artless lay,
To greet my mother this blest day,
For oh! it gave thee birth;
Hope whispers that it will be dear,
As seraph’s music to thine ear,
That thou wilt hallow with a tear,
This tribute to thy worth.
More sweet—more welcome far to me
Than greenest wreaths of minstrelsy,
Pluck’d from the muses’ bowers;
And round this lowly harp of mine,
I’d rather that a hand like thine,
One simple garland should entwine,
Than amaranthine flowers.
Those lips on mine fond kisses prest,
Those arms my feeble form carest,
When few a thought bestow’d—
When sickness threw its venom’d dart,
My pillow was thy aching heart—
Thy gentle looks could joy impart,
With angel love they glow’d.
And rude its billows seem to me;
Yet my frail bark must shipwreck’d be,
Ere I forget such friend;
Or send an orison on high,
That begs not blessings from the sky,
That heav’n will hear a daughter’s sigh,
And long thy life defend.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Three-leaved Silphium. Silphium trifoliatum.
Dedicated to St. Nunilo.
October 23.
St. Theodoret, A. D. 362. St. Romanus, Abp. of Rouen, A. D. 639. St. John Capistran, A. D. 1456. St. Ignatius, Patriarch of Constantinople, A. D. 878. St. Severin, Abp. of Cologne, A. D. 400. Another St. Severin.
St. Severin.
The annals of the saints are confused. St. Severin, Abp. of Cologne, is famous in the history of the church: by him, his own diocese, and that of Tongres, “was purged from the venom of the Arian heresy, about the year 390.” He “knew by revelation the death and glory of St. Martin at the time of his departure,” and died about 400. So says Butler, who immediately begins with “Another St. Severin or Surin, patron of Bourdeaux,” said by some “to have come to Bourdeaux from some part of the east;” and by others, to have been “the same with the foregoing archbishop of Cologne.” It is difficult to make a distinction when we find “two single gentlemen rolled into one.” Whether one or two is of little consequence perhaps: their biographers were miraculists. He of Cologne led “an angelical life,” according to Butler, who adds, that “his life wrote by Fortunatus is the best:” the latter biographer achieved as great marvels with his pen, as his namesake with his wishing-cap.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Rushy Starwort. Aster junicus.
Dedicated to St. Theodoret.
October 24.
St. Proclus, Abp. of Constantinople, A. D. 447. St. Felix, A. D. 303. St. Magloire, A. D. 575.
St. Proclus.
Besides his other perfections he was a queller of earthquakes. Butler instances that “Theophanes, and other Greek historians, tell us that a child was taken up into the air, and heard angels singing the Trisagion, or triple doxology,” which is “in the preface of the mass;” and that therefore St. Proclus “taught the people to sing it:” he says that “it is at least agreed, that on their singing it the earthquakes ceased.” Butler represents the style of this father to be “full of lively witty turns, more proper to please and delight than to move the heart.” Twenty of his homilies were published at Rome in 1630, whereof “the first, fifth, and sixth are upon the blessed Virgin Mary, whose title of Mother of God,” says Butler, “he justly extols.” He wrote upon mysterious theology and the church festivals, and was a great disputant.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Zigzag Starwort. Aster flexuosus.
Dedicated to St. Proclus.
October 25.
Sts. Crysanthus and Daria, 3rd Cent. Sts. Crispin and Crispinian, A. D. 287. St. Gaudentius of Brescia, A. D. 420. St. Boniface I. Pope, A. D. 422.
Crispin.
The name of this saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs, why Crispinian’s is disjoined from it we are not informed.
St. Crispin and St. Crispinian, PATRONS OF THE GENTLE CRAFT.
St. Crispin and St. Crispinian
PATRONS OF THE GENTLE CRAFT.
And by our mirth expell’d all moan;
Like nightingales, from whose sweet throats
Most pleasant tunes are nightly blown;
The Gentle Craft is fittest then
For poor distressed gentlemen!”
St. Hugh’s Song.
This representation of St. Crispin and St. Crispinian at their seat of work, is faithfully copied from an old engraving of the same size by H. David. Every body knows that they were shoemakers, and patrons of that “art, trade, mystery, calling, or occupation,” in praise whereof, when properly exercised, too much cannot be said. Now for a word or two concerning these saints. To begin seriously, we will recur to the tenth volume of the “Lives of the Saints,” by “the Rev. Alban Butler,” where, on the 504th page, we find St. Crispin and St. Crispinian called “two glorious martyrs,” and are told that they came from Rome to preach at Soissons, in France, “towards the middle of the third century, and, in imitation of St. Paul, worked with their hands in the night, making shoes, though they were said to have been nobly born and brothers.” They converted many to the Christian faith, till a complaint was lodged against them before Rictius Varus, “the most implacable enemy of the Christian name,” who had been appointed governor by the emperor Maximian Herculeus. Butler adds, that “they were victorious over this most inhuman judge, by the patience and constancy
On Crispin’s-day, in the year 1415, the battle of Agincourt was fought between the English, under king Henry V., and the French, under the constable d’Albret. The French had “a force,” says Hume, “which, if prudently conducted, was sufficient to trample down the English in the open field.” They had nearly a hundred thousand cavalry. The English force was only six thousand men at arms, and twenty-four thousand foot, mostly archers. The constable of France had selected a strong position in the fields in front of the village of Agincourt. Each lord had planted his banner on the spot which he intended to occupy during the battle. The night was cold, dark, and rainy, but numerous fires lighted the horizon; while bursts of laughter and merriment were repeatedly heard from the soldiery, who spent their time in revelling and debate around their banners, discussing the probable events of the next day, and fixing the ransom of the English king and his barons. No one suspected the possibility of defeat, and yet no one could be ignorant that they lay in the vicinity of the field of Cressy. In that fatal field, and in the equally fatal field of Poictiers, the French had been the assailants: the French determined therefore, on the present occasion, to leave that dangerous honour to the English. To the army of Henry, wasted with disease, broken with fatigue, and weakened by the privations of a march through a hostile country in the presence of a superior force,—this was a night of hope and fear, of suspense and anxiety. They were men who had staked their lives on the event of the approaching battle, and spent the intervening moments in making their wills, and in attending the exercises of religion. Henry sent his officers to examine the ground by moon-light, arranged the operations of the next day, ordered bands of music to play in succession during the night, and before sun-rise summoned his troops to attend at matins and mass: from thence he led them to the field.
His archers, on whom rested his principal hope, he placed in front; beside his bow and arrows, his battle-axe or sword, each bore on his shoulder a long stake sharpened at both extremities, which he was instructed to fix obliquely before him in the ground, and thus oppose a rampart of pikes to the charge of the French cavalry. Many of these archers had stripped themselves naked; the others had bared their arms and breasts that they might exercise their limbs with more ease and execution: their well-earned reputation in former battles, and their savage appearance this day struck terror into their enemies. Henry himself appeared on a grey palfrey in a helmet of polished steel, surmounted by a crown sparkling with jewels, and wearing a surcoat whereon were emblazoned in gold the arms of England and France. Followed by a train of led horses, ornamented with the most gorgeous trappings, he rode from banner to banner cheering and exhorting the men. The French were drawn up in the same order, but with this fearful disparity in point of number, that while the English files were but four, theirs were thirty deep. In their lines were military engines or cannon to cast stones into the midst of the English. The French force relatively to the English was as seven or six to one. When Henry gave the word, “Banners advance!” the men shouted and ran towards the enemy, until they were within twenty paces, and then repeated the shout; this was echoed by a detachment which immediately issuing from its concealment in a meadow assailed the left flank of the French while the archers ran before their stakes, discharged their arrows, and then retired behind their rampart. To break this formidable body, a select battalion of eight hundred men at arms had been appointed by the constable; only seven score of these came into action; they were quickly slain, while the others unable to face the incessant shower of arrows, turned their vizors aside, and lost the government of their horses, which, frantic with pain, plunged back in different directions into the close ranks. The archers seizing the opportunity occasioned by this confusion, slung their bows behind them, and bursting into the mass of the enemy, with their sword and battle axes, killed the
This memorable achievement on Crispin’s-day is immortalized by Shakspeare, in a speech that he assigns to Henry V. before the battle.
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian:
He, that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his friends,
And say,—To-morrow is St. Crispian:
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars.
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
But they’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day: Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as household words,—
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick, and Talbot, Salisbury, and Glo’ster,—
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now abed,
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon St. Crispin’s day.
In “Times Telescope” for 1816, it is observed, that “the shoemakers of the present day are not far behind their predecessors, in the manner of keeping St. Crispin. From the highest to the lowest it is a day of feasting and jollity. It is also, we believe, observed as a festival with the corporate body of cordwainers, or shoemakers, of London, but without any sort of procession on the occasion,—except the proceeding to a good tavern to partake of a good dinner, and drink the pious memory of St. Crispin.”
On the 29th of July, 1822, the cordwainers of Newcastle held a coronation of their patron St. Crispin, and afterwards walked in procession through the several streets of that town. The coronation took place in the court of the Freemen’s Hospital, at the Westgate, at eleven o’clock; soon after twelve, the procession moved forward through the principal streets of that town and Gateshead, and finally halted at the sign of the Chancellor’s-head, in Newgate-street, where the members of the trade partook of a dinner provided for the occasion. A great number of people assembled to witness the procession, as there had not been a similar exhibition since the year 1789.
The emperor Charles V. being curious to know the sentiments of his meanest subjects concerning himself and his administration, often went incog. and mixed himself in such companies and conversation as he thought proper. One night at Brussels, his boot requiring immediate mending, he was directed to a cobbler. Unluckily, it happened to be St. Crispin’s holiday, and, instead of finding the cobbler inclined for work, he was in the height of his jollity among his acquaintance. The emperor acquainted him with what he wanted, and offered him a handsome gratuity.—“What, friend!” says the fellow, “do you know no better than to ask one of our craft to work on St. Crispin? Was it Charles himself, I’d not do a stitch for him now; but if you’ll come in and drink St. Crispin, do and welcome: we are as merry as the emperor can be.” The emperor accepted the offer: but while he was contemplating their rude pleasure, instead of joining in it, the jovial host thus accosts him:—“What, I suppose you are some courtier politician or other, by that contemplative phiz; but be you who or what you will, you are heartily welcome:—drink about—here’s Charles the Fifth’s health.”—“Then you love Charles the Fifth?” replied the emperor.—“Love him!” says the son of Crispin; “ay, ay, I love his long-noseship well enough; but I should love him much better would he but tax us a little less; but what have we to do with politics? round with the glasses, and merry be our hearts.” After a short stay, the emperor took his leave, and thanked the cobbler for his hospitable reception. “That,” cried he, “you are welcome to; but I would not have dishonoured St. Crispin to-day to have worked for the emperor.” Charles, pleased with the good nature and humour of the man, sent for him next morning to court. You must imagine his surprise to see and hear his late guest was his sovereign: he feared his joke upon his long nose must be punished with death. The emperor thanked him for his hospitality, and, as a reward for it, bade him ask for what he most desired, and take the whole night to settle his surprise and his ambition. Next day he appeared, and requested that, for the future, the cobblers of Flanders might bear for their arms a boot with the emperor’s crown upon it. That request was granted, and, as his ambition was so moderate, the emperor bade him make another. “If,” says he, “I am to have my utmost wishes, command that, for the future, the company of cobblers shall take place of the company of shoemakers.” It was, accordingly, so ordained; and, to this day, there is to be seen a chapel in Flanders, adorned with a boot and imperial crown on it: and in all processions, the company of cobblers takes precedence of the company of shoemakers.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Fleabane Starwort. Aster Conizoides.
Dedicated to St. Crispin.
Meagre Starwort. Aster miser.
Dedicated to St. Crispinian.
October 26.
St. Evaristus, Pope, A. D. 112. Sts. Lucian and Marcian, A. D. 250.
It is noticed by Dr. Forster, that in a mild autumn late grapes now ripen on
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Late Golden Rod. Solidago petiolaris.
Dedicated to St. Evaristus.
October 27.
St. Frumentius, Apostle of Ethiopia, 4th Cent. St. Elesbaan, King of Ethiopia, A. D. 527. St. Abban, Abbot in Ireland, 6th. Cent.
Evelyn says, “the loppings and leaves of the elm, dried in the sun, prove a great relief to cattle when fodder is dear, and will be preferred to oats by the cattle.” The Herefordshire people, in his time, gathered them in sacks for this purpose, and for their swine.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Floribund Starwort. Aster floribundus.
Dedicated to St. Frumentius.
October 28.
St. Simon, the Zealot, Apostle. St. Jude, Apostle. St. Faro, Bp. of Meaux, A. D. 672. St. Neot, A. D. 877.
St. Simon and St. Jude.
A festival to these apostles is maintained on this day in the church of England, whereon also it is celebrated by the church of Rome; hence their names in our almanacs.
Simon is called the Canaanite, either from Cana the place of his birth, or from his having been of a hot and sprightly temper. He remained with the other apostles till after pentecost, and is imagined on slight grounds to have preached in Britain, and there been put to death. Jude, or Judas, also called Thaddeus and Libbius, was brother to James the brother to Christ, (Matt. xiii. 55.) Lardner imagines he was the son of Joseph by a former wife. Some presume that he suffered martyrdom in Persia, but this is doubtful.
This anniversary was deemed as rainy as St. Swithin’s. A character in the “Roaring Girl,” one of Dodsley’s old plays, says, “as well as I know ’twill rain upon Simon and Jude’s day:” and afterwards, “now a continual Simon and Jude’s rain beat all your feathers as flat down as pancakes.” Hollinshed notices that on the eve of this day in 1536, when a battle was to have been fought between the troops of Henry VIII., and the insurgents in Yorkshire, there fell so great a rain that it could not take place. In the Runic calendar, the day is marked by a ship because these saints were fishermen.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Late Chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemum scrotinum.
Dedicated to St. Simon.
Scattered Starwort. Aster passiflorus.
Dedicated to St. Jude.
October 29.
St. Narcissus, Bp. of Jerusalem. 2d Cent. St. Chef, in latin Theuderius, Abbot, A. D. 575.
New Literary Institution, in 1825.
At this period, active measures were adopted in London for forming a “Western Literary and Scientific Institution,” for persons engaged in commercial and professional pursuits; its objects being 1. The establishment of a library of reference and circulation, and rooms for reading and conversation. 2. The formation of the members into classes, to assist them in the acquisition of ancient and modern languages. 3. The delivery of lectures in literature and science. This is an undertaking fraught with advantages, especially to young men whose situations do not permit them convenient access to means of instruction within the reach of their employers, many of whom may be likewise bettered by its maturity. The mechanics had an excellent “institution,” while persons, who, engaged in promoting general business, and meriting equal regard, remained without the benefit which growing intelligence offers to all who have industry and inclination sufficient to devise methods for reaching it. Other institutions have arisen, and are rapidly arising, for equally praiseworthy purposes.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Green Autumnal Narcissus. Narcissus viridiflorus.
Dedicated to St. Narcissus, Bp.
October 30.
St. Marcellus, the Centurion, A. D. 298. St. Germanus, Bp. of Capua, A. D. 540. St. Asterius, Bp. of Amasea in Pontus, A. D. 400.
St. Katharine’s by the Tower.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
Oct. 29, 1825.
The ancient and beautiful collegiate church of St. Katharine finally closes tomorrow, previous to its demolition by the St. Katharine’s dock company. The destruction of an edifice of such antiquity, one of the very few that escaped the great fire of 1666, has excited much public attention. I hope, therefore, that the subject will not be lost sight of in your Every-Day Book. Numbers of the nobility and gentry, who, notwithstanding an earnest appeal was made to them, left the sacred pile to its fate, have lately visited it. In fact, for the beauty and simplicity of its architecture, it has scarcely a rival in London, excepting the Temple church: the interior is ornamented with various specimens of ancient carving; a costly monument of the duke of Exeter, and various others of an interesting kind. This interesting fabric has been sacrificed by the present chapter, consisting of the master, sir Herbert Taylor, three brethren chaplains, and three sisters, to a new dock company, who have no doubt paid them handsomely for sanctioning the pulling down of the church, the violation of the graves, and the turning of hundreds of poor deserving people out of their homes; their plea is, that they have paid the chapter. I hope, sir, you will pardon the liberty I have taken in troubling you with these particulars; and that you will not forget poor Old Kate, deserted as she is by those whose duty it was to have supported her.
I remain,
Your obedient servant,
A Native of the Precinct.
P.S. There is no more occasion for these docks than for one at the foot of Ludgate-hill.
The purpose of this correspondent may be answered, perhaps, by publishing his well-founded lamentation over the final dissolution of his church; his call upon me could not be declined. I did not get his note till the very hour that the service was commencing, and hurried from Ludgate-hill to the ancient “collegiate church of St. Katharine’s by the Tower,” where I arrived just before the conclusion of prayers. Numbers unable to get accommodation among the crowd within, were coming from the place; but “where there’s a will there’s a way,” and I contrived to gain a passage to the chancel, and was ultimately conducted to a seat in a pew just as the rev. R. R. Bailey, resident chaplain of the tower, ascended the curious old pulpit of this remarkable structure. This gentleman, whose “History of the Tower” is well known to topographers and antiquaries, appropriately selected for his text, “Go to now, ye that say, to-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell and get gain.” (James iv. 13.) He discoursed of the frailty of man’s purpose, and the insecurity of his institutions, and enjoined hope and reliance on Him whose order ordained and preserves the world in its mutations. He spoke of the “unfeeling and encroaching hand of commerce,” which had rudely seized on the venerable fabric, wherein no more shall be said—
A whole assembly worship thee.”
To some of the many present the building was endeared by locality, and its burial ground was sacred earth. Yet from thence the bones of their kindred were to be expelled, and the foundations of the edifice swept away. For eight centuries the site had been undisturbed, save for the reception of the departed from the world—for him whose friends claimed that there “the servant should be free from his master,” or for the opulent, who, in his end, was needy as the needy, and required only “a little, little grave.” Yet the very chambers of the dead were to be razed, and the remains of mortality dispersed, and a standing water was to be in their stead. The preacher, in sad remembrance, briefly, but strongly, touched on the coming demolition of the fane, and there were those among the congregation who deeply sorrowed. On the features of an elderly inhabitant opposite to me, there was a convulsive twitching, while, with his head thrown back, he watched
After the sermon “sixty poor children of the precinct,” for whose benefit it was preached—it was the last office that could be celebrated there in their behalf—sung a hymn to the magnificent organ, which, on the morrow, was to be pulled down. They choralled in tender tones—
An off’ring to thy praise,
O! guard our tender youth from wrong,
And keep us in thy ways!”
These were the offspring of a neighbourhood of ill fame, whence, by liberal hands, they had been plucked and preserved as brands from the burning fire. It seemed as though they were about to be scattered from the fold wherein they had been folded and kept.
While the destruction of this edifice was contemplated, the purpose gave rise to remonstrance; but resistance was quelled by the applications, which are usually successful in such cases. “An Earnest Appeal to the Lords and Commons in Parliament, by a Clergyman,” was ineffectually printed and circulated with the hope of preventing the act. This little tract says:—
“The collegiate body to whom the church and precinct pertain, and who have not always been so insensible to the nobler principles they now abandon, owe their origin to Maud, wife of king Stephen—their present constitution to Eleanor, wife of king Henry III.—and their exemption from the general dissolution in the time of Henry VIII. to the attractions (it is said) of Anne Boleyn. The queens’ consort have from the first been patronesses, and on a vacancy of the crown matrimonial, the kings of England. The fabric for which, in default of its retained advocates, I have ventured now to plead, is of the age of king Edward III., lofty and well-proportioned, rich in ancient carving, adorned with effigies of a Holland, a Stafford, a Montacute, all allied to the blood royal, and in spite of successive mutilations is well able to plead for itself: surely then, for its own sake, as well as for the general interests involved in its preservation, it is not too much to ask, that it may, at least, be confronted with those who wish its destruction—that its obscure location may not cause its condemnation unseen—that no one will pass sentence who has not visited the spot, and that, having so done, he will suffer the unbiassed dictates of his own heart to decide.”
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Mixen Agaric. Agaricus fimetarius.
Dedicated to St. Marcellus.
October 31.
St. Quintin, A. D. 287. St. Wolfgang, Bp. of Ratisbon, A. D. 994. St. Foillan, A. D. 655.
ALLHALLOW EVEN;
or,
HALLOW E’EN.
Respecting this, which is the vigil of All Saints-day, Mr. Brand has collected many notices of customs; to him therefore we are indebted for the following particulars:—
On this night young people in the north of England dive for apples, or catch at them, when stuck upon one end of a kind of hanging beam, at the other extremity of which is fixed a lighted candle. This they do with their mouths only, their hands being tied behind their backs. From the custom of flinging nuts into the fire, or cracking them with their teeth, it has likewise obtained the name of nutcrack night. In an ancient illuminated missal in Mr. Douce’s collection, a person is represented balancing himself upon a pole laid across two stools; at the end of the pole is a lighted candle, from which he is endeavouring to light another in his hand, at the risk of tumbling into a tub of water placed under him. A writer, about a century ago, says, “This is the last day of October, and the birth of this packet is partly owing to the affair of this night. I am alone; but the servants having demanded apples, ale, and nuts, I took the opportunity of running back my own annals of Allhallows Eve; for you are to know, my lord, that I have been a mere adept, a most famous artist, both in the college and country, on occasion of this anile, chimerical solemnity.”
Pennant says, that the young women in Scotland determine the figure and size of their husbands by drawing cabbages blind-fold on Allhallow Even, and, like the English, fling nuts into the fire. It is mentioned by Burns, in a note to his poem on “Hallow E’en,” that “The first ceremony of Hallow E’en is pulling each a stock or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet with. Its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells—the husband or wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the root, that is tocher, or fortune; and the taste of the custoc, that is the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are, according to the priority of placing the runts, the names in question.” It appears that the Welsh have “a play in which the youth of both sexes seek for an even-leaved sprig of the ash: and the first of either sex that finds one, calls out Cyniver, and is answered by the first of the other that succeeds; and these two, if the omen fails not, are to be joined in wedlock.”
Burns says, that “Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.” It is to be noted, that in Ireland, when the young women would know if their lovers are faithful, they put three nuts upon the bars of the grates, naming the nuts after the lovers. If a nut cracks or jumps, the lover will prove unfaithful; if it begins to blaze or burn, he has a regard for the person making the trial. If the nuts, named after the girl and her lover, burn together, they will be married. This sort of divination is also in some parts of England at this time. Gay mentions it in his “Spell:”—
And to each nut I gave a sweet-heart’s name:
This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz’d,
That in a flame of brightest colour blaz’d;
As blaz’d the nut, so may thy passion grow,
For t’was thy nut that did so brightly glow!”
There are some lines by Charles Graydon, Esq.—“On Nuts burning, Allhallows Eve.”
Of what in human life we view;
The ill-match’d couple fret and fume,
And thus, in strife themselves consume,
Or, from each other wildly start,
And with a noise for ever part.
But see the happy happy pair,
Of genuine love and truth sincere;
With mutual fondness, while they burn,
Still to each other kindly turn:
And as the vital sparks decay
Together gently sink away:
Till life’s fierce ordeal being past.
Their mingled ashes rest at last.”
Burns says, “the passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature, in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it maybe some entertainment to a philosophic mind to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.” He gives, therefore, the principal charms and spells of this night among the peasantry in the west of Scotland. One of these by young women, is, by pulling stalks of corn. “They go to the barn yard, and pull, each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage bed any thing but a maid.” Another is by the blue clue. “Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clew of blue yarn; wind it in a new clew off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, ‘wha hauds?’ i. e. who holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse.” A third charm is by eating an apple at a glass. “Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.”
In an appendix to the late Mr. “Pennant’s Tour,” several other very observable and perfectly new customs of divination on this night are enumerated. One is to “steal out unperceived, and sow a
Another is, “to winn three wechts o’naething.” The wecht is the instrument used in winnowing corn. “This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to the barn and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible: for there is danger that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht, and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and, the third time, an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue marking the employment or station in life.”
Then there is “to fathom the stack three times.” “Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a bear stack (barley stack), and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yokefellow.” Another, “to dip your left shirt sleeve in a burn where three lairds’ lands meet.” “You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a south-running spring or rivulet, where ‘three lairds’ lands meet,’ and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.”
The last is a singular species of divination “with three luggies, or dishes.” “Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged: he (or she) dips the left hand, if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells with equal certainty no marriage at all. It is repeated three times: and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.” Sir Frederick Morton Eden says, that “Sowens, with butter instead of milk, is not only the Hallow E’en supper, but the Christmas and New-year’s-day’s breakfast, in many parts of Scotland.”
In the province of Moray, in Scotland, “A solemnity was kept on the eve of the first of November as a thanksgiving for the safe in-gathering of the produce of the fields. This I am told, but have not seen; it is observed in Buchan and other countries, by having Hallow Eve fire kindled on some rising ground.”
In Ireland fires were anciently lighted up on the four great festivals of the Druids, but at this time they have dropped the fire of November, and substituted candles. The Welsh still retain the fire of November, but can give no reason for the illumination.
The minister of Logierait, in Perthshire, describing that parish, says: “On the evening of the 31st of October, O. S., among many others, one remarkable ceremony is observed. Heath, broom, and dressings of flax, are tied upon a pole. This faggot is then kindled. One takes it upon his shoulders; and, running, bears it round the village. A crowd attend. When the first faggot is burnt out, a second is bound to the pole, and kindled in the same manner as before. Numbers of these blazing faggots are often carried about together; and when the night happens to be dark, they form a splendid illumination. This is Halloween, and is a night of great festivity.”
Pennant records, that in North Wales “there is a custom upon All Saints Eve of making a great fire called Coel Coeth, when every family about an hour in the night makes a great bonfire in the most conspicuous place near the house; and when the fire is almost extinguished, every one throws a white stone into the ashes, having first marked it; then, having said their prayers, turning round the fire, they go to bed. In the morning, as soon as they are up, they come to search out the stones; and if any one of them is found wanting, they have a notion that the person who threw it in will die before he sees another All Saints Eve.” They also distribute soul cakes on All Souls-day, at the receiving of which poor people pray to God to bless the next crop of wheat.
Mr. Owen’s account of the bards, in sir R. Hoare’s “Itinerary of archbishop Baldwin through Wales,” says, “The autumnal fire is still kindled in North Wales on the eve of the first day of November, and is attended by many ceremonies; such as running through the fire and smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off at the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow; then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and apples; catching at an apple suspended by a string with the mouth alone, and the same by an apple in a tub of water; each throwing a nut into the fire, and those that burn bright betoken prosperity to the owners through the following year, but those that burn black and crackle denote misfortune. On the following morning the stones are searched for in the fire, and if any be missing they betide ill to those that threw them in.”
At St. Kilda, on Hallow E’en night, they baked “a large cake in form of a triangle, furrowed round, and which was to be all eaten that night.”
“The inhabitants of the isle of Lewis (one of the western islands of Scotland,) had an antient custom to sacrifice to a sea god, called Shony, at Hallow-tide, in the manner following: the inhabitants round the island came to the church of St. Mulvay, having each man his provision along with him. Every family furnished a peck of malt, and this was brewed into ale. One of their number was picked out to wade into the sea up to the middle; and, carrying a cup of ale in his hand, standing still in that posture, cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Shony, I give you this cup of ale, hoping that you’ll be so kind as to send us plenty of sea-ware, for enriching our ground the ensuing year;’ and so threw the cup of ale into the sea. This was performed in the night time. At his return to land, they all went to church, where there was a candle burning upon the altar; and then standing silent for a little time, one of them gave a signal, at which the candle was put out, and immediately all of them went to the fields, where they fell a drinking their ale, and spent the remainder of the night in dancing and singing,” &c.
At Blandford Forum, in Dorsetshire, “there was a custom, in the papal times, to ring bells at Allhallow-tide for all christian souls.” Bishop Burnet gives a letter from king Henry the Eighth to
General Vallancey says, concerning this night, “On the Oidhche Shamhna, (Ee Owna,) or vigil of Samam, the peasants in Ireland assemble with sticks and clubs, (the emblems of laceration,) going from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, &c. &c. for the feast, repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival in the name of St. Columb Kill, desiring them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring forth the black sheep. The good women are employed in making the griddle cake and candles; these last are sent from house to house in the vicinity, and are lighted up on the (Saman) next day, before which they pray, or are supposed to pray, for the departed soul of the donor. Every house abounds in the best viands they can afford. Apples and nuts are devoured in abundance; the nut-shells are burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are foretold. Cabbages are torn up by the root. Hemp-seed is sown by the maidens, and they believe that if they look back, they will see the apparition of the man intended for their future spouse. They hang a shift before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night, concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will come down the chimney and turn the shift. They throw a ball of yarn out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced that if they repeat the paternoster backwards, and look at the ball of yarn without, they will then also see his sith, or apparition. They dip for apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the mouth. They suspend a cord with a cross stick, with apples at one point, and candles lighted at the other; and endeavour to catch the apple, while it is in a circular motion, in the mouth. These, and many other superstitious ceremonies, the remains of Druidism, are observed on this holiday, which will never be eradicated while the name of Saman is permitted to remain.”
It is mentioned by a writer in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” that lamb’s-wool is a constant ingredient at a merry-making on Holy Eve, or on the evening before All Saints-day in Ireland. It is made there, he says, by bruising roasted apples, and mixing them with ale, or sometimes with milk. “Formerly, when the superior ranks were not too refined for these periodical meetings of jollity, white wine was frequently substituted for ale. To lamb’s-wool, apples and nuts are added as a necessary part of the entertainment; and the young folks amuse themselves with burning nuts in pairs on the bar of the grate, or among the warm embers, to which they give their name and that of their lovers, or those of their friends who are supposed to have such attachments; and from the manner of their burning and duration of the flame, &c. draw such inferences respecting the constancy or strength of their passions, as usually promote mirth and good humour.” Lamb’s-wool is thus etymologized by Vallancey:—“The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, &c. and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, that is, the day of the apple fruit, and being pronounced lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to lamb’s-wool.”
So much is said, and perhaps enough for the present, concerning the celebration of this ancient and popular vigil.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Fennel-leaved. Tickseed Coreopsis ferulifolia.
Dedicated to St. Quintin.
Seasonable.
And know the misery of their wretched scant:
Go, ye, and seek their homes, who have the power,
And ease the sorrows of their trying hour.
To him who gives, a blessing never ceaseth.”
