April 26.

St. Mark, Evangelist.St. Macull, orMacallius, orMaughold, 5th Cent.St. Anianus.St. Phœbadius, orFiari, Bp.A. D.392.St. Ivia, orIvo, Bp. 7th Cent.St. Kebius, Bp. 4th Cent.

Mr. Audley says, “It is generally allowed, that Mark, mentioned i Pet. v. 13. is the Evangelist, but it has been doubted whether he be the same as John Mark, mentioned in the Acts, and in some of Paul’s epistles. Dr. Lardner thinks there is but one Mark in the New Testament, John Mark, the evangelist, and fellow-labourer of Paul, Barnabas and Peter. He was the son of Mary, a pious woman of Jerusalem, at whose house the disciples used to meet. It is not known at what period Mark became a follower of Christ. His gospel was probably written about the year 63 or 64, and it has been said, that Mark going into Egypt first preached the gospel which he had written, and planted there many churches. He does appear to have been a martyr; but died in the eighth year of Nero, and was buried at Alexandria.” Butler says, “It is certain that he was appointed by St. Peter, bishop of Alexandria,” that he was martyred in the year 68, and that when he was discovered by his persecutors, he was “offering to God the prayer of oblation or the mass.” So that we are to believe from Butler, that there was the “mass” in Mark’s time!

Alban Butler gravely quotes the “Acts of St. Mark” to acquaint us that St. Anianus, whom he calls the second bishop of Alexandria, “was a shoemaker of that city, whose hand being wounded with an awl, St. Mark healed when he first entered the city: such was his fervour and progress in virtue and learning, that St. Mark constituted him bishop of Alexandria during his absence; and Anianus governed that great church four years with him, and eighteen years and seven months after his death.” Robinson lowers the inflation of Butler’s language by stating that Mark, as he was walking in Alexandria, “burst the stitching of his shoe, so that he could not proceed till it was repaired; the nearest cobler was the man; he mended the shoe or sandal, or whatever it was; the man was taught the gospel by Mark; he taught others; and this was the first pontiff of Alexandria, that is, the first regular teacher of a few poor people at Alexandria, who peradventure had no other cathedral than agarret: a teacher of primitive christianity is not to be confounded with a patriarch of Alexandria.”[112]This is a very different picture from that of the “great church” represented by Butler. In truth, the early christian pastors were poor and lowly men, and hence the ideas we affix to the denominations which they and their flocks receive from catholic writers should be derived from plain common-sense views of their real situations, so far as they can be ascertained.

Shoes or slippers were worn in the East, but sandals, which leave the toes bare, very seldom. The Egyptians made their shoes of papyrus or palm leaves. The Greeks and Romans of both sexes wore rich sandals of gold, silk, or other precious stuffs; the soles were of cork, which for that reason was called sandal wood, and they were, in general, at least one finger thick; sometimes they sewed five soles one over another. They were covered within and without with leather broader than the cork. Sandals were among the early, but not the later, Anglo-Saxons.[113]

Curious old Sandal.

The precedingcutis of a “very curious sandal,” in three different views, from one made of leather, partly gilt, and variously coloured. It was formerly in the possession of Mr. Bailey, leather-stainer, Little Wild-street, Drury-lane, and afterwards in that of Mr. Samuel Ireland, of Norfolk-street, by whose permission, an engraving on copper was made by Mr. J. T. Smith, of the British Museum, and from this the present representation is given. The age of the sandal is not by the writer determinable, but as a remarkable relic of antiquity, its form and make deserve preservation. It will be observed, that it belonged to the left foot of the wearer; so that if other evidence could not be adduced, this is proof that “rights and lefts” are only “an old, old, very old” fashion revived.

The shoes of Bernard, king of Italy, found in his tomb, were “right and left:” the soles were of wood, the upper part red leather, laced with thongs, and they fitted so closely, that the order of the toes, terminating in a point at the great toe, might easily be discovered.[114]Stubbs, the satirist in Shakspeare’s time, describes cork shoes or pantofles, (slippers) as bearing up their wearers two inches or more from the ground; as of various colours, and raised, carved, cut, or stitched; as frequently made of velvet, embroidered with the precious metals; and when fastened with strings, covered with enormous and valuable roses of ribband curiously ornamented. “It is remarkable that, as in the present age, both shoes and slippers were worn shaped after the right and left foot. Shakespeare describes his smith as

‘Standing on slippers, which his nimble hasteHad falselythrust upon contrary feet:—’

and Scott, in his ‘Discoverie of Witchcraft,’ observes, that he who receiveth a mischance ‘will consider, whether he put not on his shirt wrong side outwards, or hisleft shoe on his right foot.’”[115]

Some light may be thrown on theengravingby an extract from an heraldic writer: “He bearethor, two sandalssable, buckles or tyesargent. This was the ancient way of securing the feet of travellers from the hardness of the country passage; and consisted of nothing else but a sole, (either of leather or wood) to which was made fast 2 or 3 tyes or latches which was buckled on the top of the foot; the better sort adorned these latches with imbrauthered (embroidered) work, and set them with stones.” Whence it appears that theengravingrepresents such a sandal “of the better sort.” The same author mentions three sandalssable, buckled and adornedor, on a fieldazure“borne by Palmer.”[116]Ladies may be amused by looking at theform, as placed before his readers, of a shoe which the author just cited says was “of the gentest (genteelest) fashion” of his time.

shoe

This was the fashion that beautified the feet of the fair in the reign of king William and queen Mary. The old “Deputy for the kings of arms” is minutely diffuse on the “gentle craft:” he engraves the form of “a pair of wedges,” which he says “is to raise up a shooe in the instep when it is too straight for the top of the foot;” and thus compassionates ladies’ sufferings.—“Shoomakers love to put ladies in their stocks; but these wedges, like merciful justices upon complaint, soon do ease and deliver them.” If the eye turns to the cut—to the cut of the sole, with the “line of beauty” adapted by the cunning workman’s skill to stilt the female foot—if the reader behold that association, let wonder cease, that a venerable master in coat-armour should bend his quarterings to the quartering of a lady’s shoe, and forgetful of heraldic forms, condescend from his “high estate” to the use of similitudes.

The difference of opinion respecting the true time of Easter, in the year 1825, and the explanation atp. 416of the error atp. 190, as to the rule for finding this feast have occasioned various letters to the editor, from which he selects three, in order to further elucidate and close the subject. The first is a lively introduction.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,

In your fourteenth number, you accuse the almanac-makers of having thought good to fix Easter-day on the 3rd of April instead of the 10th, on which day, you say, according to the act of parliament and the rubric of the church, Easter-day ought to be celebrated. This statement is calculated to “unsettle the faith of thousands in their almanac-maker;” for, sure enough, the almanac-maker appears to have made Easter-day fall on the day of the full moon, instead of the week after; I therefore fully acquit you of all intention to mislead your readers, and slander the almanac-maker; and yet you most certainly have done both from not sufficiently taking into your consideration the omnipotence of parliament, especially in astronomical matters. You may possibly recollect, that, even a few years back, parliament, for the purpose I think of protecting game from poachers, declared that night should commence, during the summer month, before the sun thought proper to set. Now, in defiance of those matter-of-fact gentlemen, the almanac-makers, the act of parliament for the uniformity of worship, has this year appointed the paschal full moon for the 2d of April instead of the 3rd, and thereby converted the 3rd into Easter Sunday. The statute of 14 Car. II. says nothing about Easter Sunday, but it orders the Book of Common Prayer to be joined and annexed to the act, so that therubrichas the force and omnipotence of an act of parliament to alter the course of the moon, and to regulate its wane and increase.

The rubric exercises this power, by compelling you to look out for the full moon in certain tables ofits ownconcocting, and does not allow you to consult the almanac. The paschal full moon must be ascertained by discovering the golden number of the year, (for which a rule is given,) and the day set next that Golden Number (in the table before-mentioned,) is, by the omnipotence of parliament, declared to be the full moon day. The Golden Number for the present year is according to the rule 2, and the day fixed against that number is April 2d, and is therefore the paschal full moon in spite of the almanac-makers. The full moon being fixed thus by government, Easter-day is ascertained by finding the Sunday letter by another rule, according to which B is the Sunday letter for the present year, and the day of the month affixed to the first B, after the act of parliament full moon, is Easter Sunday; unluckily this letter B has chanced to fall upon the almanac-maker’s full moon, viz. the 3rd of April, but surely you are too reasonable a man to blame them for that: remember, however loyal they may be, they cannot compel the sun to set at eight o’clock on the longest day, nor persuade the moon to attain her full a moment before it pleases her variable ladyship.

I am, sir,Your much amused, and constant reader,Causidicus.

The next communication is in further support of the almanac-maker’s Easter.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,

It appears the author of the article “Easter,” in theEvery-Day Book,p. 416, thinks the almanac-makers wrong in fixing Easter Sunday, for 1825, on the 3rd of April, when the full moon took place at 6 h. 23 m. in the morning of that very day. He probably was not aware, that theastronomicalday commences at 12 at noon, and ends the next noon. The 2d of April (as an astronomical day,) commenced on the Saturday, and ended on the Sunday at noon. The festivals being regulated according to this astronomical division of time, it follows that the almanac-makers were correct in considering the full moon to take place on Saturday, the 2d of April, and in fixing Easter Sunday for the 3rd of April. I trust you will find it worth while to insert this correction of your statement, from

A CONSTANT READER.

To the latter correspondent’s observations, this answer has been received from the gentleman to whom it became the editor’s duty to transmit it for consideration.

For the Every-Day Book.

The object of those who fixed the day for the celebration of Easter, was to prevent the full moon being on the Sunday on which the offices for the Resurrection were to be performed, and the custom ofastronomershas nothing to do with the question. The full moon according to them might be on the twenty-third hourof the Saturday, but this would be eleven o’clock of Saturday, at which time the Romish and English churches would be performing the offices of the Resurrection; this was the point to be avoided, and this is done by the ecclesiastical canon and the act of parliament.

THE AUTHOR OF THE ARTICLE ON EASTER.

In this correspondence Easter is disposed of. The rubric clearly states the rule for finding the festival, and the last letter represents the ground whereon it was deemed expedient that the church should celebrate it according to that rule.

1595. Torquatus Tasso, the poet, died at Rome. He was born, in 1544, at Sorrento in Naples, wrote verses at nine years of age, became a student at law, and composed the “Rinaldo” at seventeen. Although his celebrated epic “Jerusalem Delivered” is that whereon his poetical fame is chiefly grounded, yet his “Aminta,” and other pieces are rich in fancy and beautiful in style; he was also excellent in prose. The most remarkable feature in his character was a hopeless passion for the princess Eleanora, sister of the duke of Ferrara, that he conceived early in life, and nourished till his death.

1800. William Cowper, the poet, died at Dereham, in Norfolk; he was born November, 26, 1731, at Berkhamstead, in Hertfordshire. When a child he was shy and diffident. “His own forcible expression,” says Hayley, “represented him at Westminster-school as not daring to raise his eye above the shoe-buckle of the elder boys, who were too apt to tyrannize over his gentle spirit.” Fear of personal publicity increased with his years. At thirty-one it was necessary that he should appear at the bar of the House of Lords, to entitle himself to the appointment of clerk of the journals which had been obtained for him, he was incapable of the effort, his terror overwhelmed his reason, and he was subjected to confinement till his faculties recovered. Morbid glooms and horrors of the imagination clouded his mind throughout life, and he more than once attempted self-destruction. When not subjected to these dreadful affections he was cheerful and amiable. Innocence of heart and extreme modesty were the most remarkable features in his character. His poetry is in the hands of every body; its popularity is the best praise of its high merits. He was enabled by his fortune to indulge his love of retirement, surrounded by a few friends whom he ardently loved. He speaks of himself, in a letter to Mr. Park, so as to exemplify his usual habits—“From the age of twenty to thirty-three I was occupied, or ought to have been, in the study of the law; from thirty-three to sixty I have spent my time in the country, where my reading has been only an apology for idleness, and where, when I had not either a magazine or a review, I was sometimes a carpenter, at others a birdcage maker, or a gardener, or a drawer of landscapes. At fifty years of age I commenced an author:—it is a whim that has served me longest and best, and will probably be my last.” A little volume entitled the “Rural Walks of Cowper,” illustrates his attachment to the country, by a series of fifteen views from drawings made and engraved by Mr. James Storer; they exemplify scenery in Cowper’s poems, with descriptive sketches; it is an agreeable assistant to every one who desires to know something of the places wherein the poet delighted to ramble or meditate. There is a natural desire to become acquainted with the countenance of a man whose writings we love or admire, and the spots that were associated with his feelings and genius. Who can read Cowper’s letter to his friend Hill, descriptive of his summer-house, without wishing to walk into it? “I write in a nook that I call my boudoir; it is a summer-house not bigger than a sedan chair; the door of it opens into the garden that is now crowded with pinks, roses, and honeysuckles, and the window into my neighbour’s orchard. It formerly served an apothecary as a smoking-room; at present, however, it is dedicated to sublimer uses; here I write all that I write in summer time, whether to my friends or to the public. It is secure from all noise, and a refuge from all intrusion.” The presentengravingof it is taken by Mr. Storer’s permission from his design made on the spot.

It was here, perhaps, that Cowper wrote his poem on a nightingale, that sung with a thorn in her breast, an affecting allusion to the state of his own feelings. There is another of his productions on the same “sweet bird,” whom all poets wait on, which is subjoined by way of conclusion to this brief notice of a bard honoured for his talents, and revered for his love of virtue.

TO THE NIGHTINGALEWhich the author heard sing on New Year’s Day, 1792.Whence is it, that amaz’d I hearFrom yonder wither’d spray,This foremost morn of all the year,The melody of May.And why, since thousands would be proudOf such a favour shown,Am I selected from the crowd,To witness it alone!Sing’st thou, sweet Philomel, to me,For that I also longHave practised in the groves like thee,Though not like thee in song?Or sing’st thou rather under forceOf some divine command,Commission’d to presage a courseOf happier days at hand?Thrice welcome then! for many a longAnd joyless year have I,As thou to-day, put forth thy songBeneath a wintry sky.But thee no wintry skies can harm,Who only need’st to sing,To make ev’n January charm,And ev’ry season Spring.

TO THE NIGHTINGALEWhich the author heard sing on New Year’s Day, 1792.

Whence is it, that amaz’d I hearFrom yonder wither’d spray,This foremost morn of all the year,The melody of May.And why, since thousands would be proudOf such a favour shown,Am I selected from the crowd,To witness it alone!Sing’st thou, sweet Philomel, to me,For that I also longHave practised in the groves like thee,Though not like thee in song?Or sing’st thou rather under forceOf some divine command,Commission’d to presage a courseOf happier days at hand?Thrice welcome then! for many a longAnd joyless year have I,As thou to-day, put forth thy songBeneath a wintry sky.But thee no wintry skies can harm,Who only need’st to sing,To make ev’n January charm,And ev’ry season Spring.

Whence is it, that amaz’d I hearFrom yonder wither’d spray,This foremost morn of all the year,The melody of May.

And why, since thousands would be proudOf such a favour shown,Am I selected from the crowd,To witness it alone!

Sing’st thou, sweet Philomel, to me,For that I also longHave practised in the groves like thee,Though not like thee in song?

Or sing’st thou rather under forceOf some divine command,Commission’d to presage a courseOf happier days at hand?

Thrice welcome then! for many a longAnd joyless year have I,As thou to-day, put forth thy songBeneath a wintry sky.

But thee no wintry skies can harm,Who only need’st to sing,To make ev’n January charm,And ev’ry season Spring.

Cowper’s Summer-House at Olney.

This was a great fast-day in England during the rule of the Romish church. An old writer says, that in 1589, “I being as then but a boy, do remember that an ale wife, making no exception of dayes, would needs brue upon Saint Marke’s days; but loe, the marvailous worke of God? whiles she was thus laboring, the top of the chimney tooke fire; and, before it could bee quenched, her house was quite burnt. Surely,” says this observer of sainted seasons, “a gentle warning to them that violate and profane forbidden daies.”[117]Another writer observes, that although there was not anciently any fast-day between Easter and Whitsunday, yet, besides many days in the Rogation week, the popes had devised “a monstrous fast on Saint Marke’s day.” He says, “all other fastinge daies are on the holy day Even, only Saint Marke must have his day fasted.” He asks why and by what decree of the church, or by what general council the fast was ordained? He inquires why one side of the street in Cheapside being inthe diocese of London fasts on that day, and why the other side being in the diocese of Canterbury fasts not?[118]

On St. Mark’s day blessings on the corn were implored. According to a manuscript of Mr. Pennant’s, no farmer in North Wales dare hold his team on this day, because they there believe one man’s team that worked upon it wasmarkedwith the loss of an ox. A Yorkshire clergyman informed Mr. Brand, that it was customary in that county for the common people to sit and watch in the church porch on St. Mark’s Eve, from eleven o’clock at night till one in the morning. The third year (for this must be done thrice,) they are supposed to see the ghosts of all those who are to die the next year, pass by into the church. When any one sickens that is thought to have been seen in this manner, it is presently whispered about that he will not recover, for that such, or such an one, who has watched St. Mark’s Eve, says so. This superstition is in such force, that, if the patients themselves hear of it, they almost despair of recovery. Many are said to have actually died by their imaginary fears on the occasion. The terrors of the ignorant are high in proportion to the darkness wherein they grovel.

A correspondent near Peterborough, who has obliged the editor by transmitting what he denominates some “miscellaneous superstitions and shadows of customs whose origins are worn out,” includes among them the following interesting communication respecting St. Mark’s day usages in Northamptonshire.

For the Every-Day Book.

On St. Mark’s Eve, it is still a custom about us for young maidens to make thedumb cake, a mystical ceremony which has lost its origin, and in some counties may have ceased altogether. The number of the party never exceeds three; they meet in silence to make the cake, and as soon as the clock strikes twelve, they each break a portion off to eat, and when done, they walk up to bed backwards without speaking a word, for if one speaks the spell is broken. Those that are to be married see the likeness of their sweethearts hurrying after them, as if wishing to catch them before they get into bed, but the maids being apprized of this before hand, (by the cautions of old women who have tried it,) take care to unpin their clothes before they start, and are ready to slip into bed before they are caught by the pursuing shadow; if nothing is seen, the desired token may be a knocking at the doors, or a rustling in the house, as soon as they have retired. To be convinced that it comes from nothing else but the desired cause, they are always particular in turning out the cats and dogs before the ceremony begins. Those that are to die unmarried neither see nor hear any thing; but they have terrible dreams, which are sure to be of new-made graves, winding-sheets, and church-yards, and of rings that will fit no finger, or which, if they do, crumble into dust as soon as put on. There is another dumb ceremony, of eating the yolk of an egg in silence, and then filling the shell with salt, when the sweetheart is sure to make his visit in some way or other before morning. On this same night too, the more stout-hearted watch the church-porch; they go in the evening and lay in the church-porch a branch of a tree, or a flower, large enough to be readily found in the dark, and then return home to wait the approach of midnight. They are to proceed to the porch again before the clock strikes twelve, and to remain in it till it has struck; as many as choose accompany the maid, who took the flower or branch and is to fetch it again, as far as the church-gate, and there wait till their adventuring companion returns, who, if she is to be married within the year, is to see a marriage procession pass by her, with a bride in her own likeness hanging on the arm of her future husband; as many bridesmen and maidens as appear to follow them, so many months is the maid to wait before her marriage. If she is to die unmarried, then the expected procession is to be a funeral, consisting of a coffin covered with a white sheet, borne on the shoulders of shadows that seem without heads. This custom, with all its contingent “hopes and fears,” is still practised, though with what success, I am not able to determine. The imagination may be wrought to any height in such matters, and doubtless some persuade themselves that they see what the story describes. An odd character at Helpstone, whose name is Ben Barr, and whom the villagers call and believe as “the prophet,” watches the church-porch every year, and pretends to know the fate of every one in the villages round, and who shall be married or die in theyear; but as a few pence, generally purchase a good omen, he seldom prophesies the deaths of his believers.

¶. ¶.

This “Ben Barr,” of Helpstone, must be an useful fellow to timid believers in such affairs. He seems to have created for himself a place of trust and profit; if he is only a wag he may enjoy his emoluments with his humour, and do no harm; but should he assume to foretell mischief to his believers, he is, legally speaking, a “sturdy rogue.” The seeing of supernatural sights by a paid proxy is a novelty in the annals of superstition. But if Ben Barr is the first, so he is the last of such seers. He will have no successor in office, there will be little demand for such a functionary, the income will fall off, and no one will undertake to see “Satan’s invisible world,” and warn unbelievers in ghosts, for nothing.

Clarimond Tulip.Tulipa præcox.Dedicated toSt. Mark.

[112]Robinson’s Eccles. Researches, 42.[113]Fosbroke’s Dict. Antiq.[114]Ibid.[115]Dr. Drake’s Shakspeare and his Times.[116]Holme’s Acad. of Armorie.[117]Vaughan’s Golden Grove.[118]The burnynge of Paules Church in 1561. See Brand.

[112]Robinson’s Eccles. Researches, 42.

[113]Fosbroke’s Dict. Antiq.

[114]Ibid.

[115]Dr. Drake’s Shakspeare and his Times.

[116]Holme’s Acad. of Armorie.

[117]Vaughan’s Golden Grove.

[118]The burnynge of Paules Church in 1561. See Brand.

St. Cletus, Pope and Martyr,A. D.89.St. Marcellinus, Pope and Martyr,A. D.304.St. Richarius, orRiquier, Abbot, about 645.St. Paschasius Radbert, Abbot, about 865.

1716. The great lord Somers died. He was lord chancellor, and at different periods held other offices of high trust, which he ennobled by acts of distinguished virtue and patriotism: he vindicated public liberty with courage, and maintained it with success to the end of his life.

A town life is coveted by the artificial, and praised to ecstacy by mindless minds. They who can only derive entertainment from

Shows and sights, and hateful forms,

and they who are without intellectual resources, throw themselves into the floods of the “mighty heart,” in search of refreshing pleasures. Not so he, who has tasted the “knowledge of good and evil,” and from depth of reflection welled up wisdom: he loves only what is good, and attaches himself only to what is great in his species; this is from sympathy, not contact. Silence and time are not of man’s make, and hence the wise court solitude from the wrongs and follies of surrounding beings, and enjoy a portion of their existence in contemplating the pure forms of nature. The perverted genius which preferred

“The sweet shady sideOf a grove in Pall-Mall”

to rural scenery, by a little further perversion, would have preferred the groves of Moloch to the plains of Mamre.

If one would live by nature’s laws,Regardless of the world’s applause;And be desirous of a spotWhereon to build a humble cot,What situation can compareWith that where purest country airDispels the vapours and the spleen,And makes one wear a healthful mien?Than in the country tell me whereMen freer are from pining care?Where can they sounder sleep enjoy,Or time more harmlessly employ?Do marble pavements more delight,Than the green turf that cheers the sight?Or does the water of the town,From the New-river head brought downTaste sweeter than the crystal rills,That trickle down the verdant hills?So much are rustic scenes admir’d,And rural prospects now desir’d,That in the town one often seesThe houses shaded by tall trees,Which give them quite a country look,And fill with envy my lord-duke.And if a mansion can commandA distant prospect o’er the landOf Hampstead, or the Surrey hills,Its site with admiration fills.Eachconnoisseur, with wond’ring eyes,Beholds it, and enraptur’d cries,“What charming prospect! air how free“Therus in urbehere we see.”For nature still will have her way,Let men do whatsoe’er they may.And still that pure and genuine taste,In every mind by Heav’n plac’d,Will show itself some how in part,Howe’er corrupted by vile art.Who know not silver from vile dross,Will not sustain a heavier lossThan they who truth and falsehood join,And know not where to strike the line.Whoe’er with success is elated,Will be more wretched when ill-fated;And things which mortals value mostCause greatest pain when they are lost.Let not ambition then destroyYour happiness and heart-felt joy;Contentment more true pleasure bringsThan all the wealth and pomp of kings.

Than in the country tell me whereMen freer are from pining care?Where can they sounder sleep enjoy,Or time more harmlessly employ?Do marble pavements more delight,Than the green turf that cheers the sight?Or does the water of the town,From the New-river head brought downTaste sweeter than the crystal rills,That trickle down the verdant hills?

So much are rustic scenes admir’d,And rural prospects now desir’d,That in the town one often seesThe houses shaded by tall trees,Which give them quite a country look,And fill with envy my lord-duke.And if a mansion can commandA distant prospect o’er the landOf Hampstead, or the Surrey hills,Its site with admiration fills.Eachconnoisseur, with wond’ring eyes,Beholds it, and enraptur’d cries,“What charming prospect! air how free“Therus in urbehere we see.”For nature still will have her way,Let men do whatsoe’er they may.And still that pure and genuine taste,In every mind by Heav’n plac’d,Will show itself some how in part,Howe’er corrupted by vile art.Who know not silver from vile dross,Will not sustain a heavier lossThan they who truth and falsehood join,And know not where to strike the line.Whoe’er with success is elated,Will be more wretched when ill-fated;And things which mortals value mostCause greatest pain when they are lost.Let not ambition then destroyYour happiness and heart-felt joy;Contentment more true pleasure bringsThan all the wealth and pomp of kings.

Yellow Erysemum.Erysemum Barbarea.Dedicated toSt. Richarius.

St. Anthimus, Bp. and many other Martyrs at Nicomedia,A. D.303.St. Anastasius, Pope,A. D.401.St. Zita,A. D.1272.

1742. Nicholas Amhurst, an English political, poetical, and miscellaneous writer, died in poverty and of a broken heart at Twickenham, at the age of thirty-six. He was author of “Terræ Filius,” a severe satire on the university of Oxford, from whence he had been expelled, and he edited the once celebrated “Craftsman,” one of the most popular journals ever printed, and the most effective of all the publications against the Walpole administration. Bolingbroke and Pulteney with whom he had been associated in the conduct of this paper, and whose interests he had promoted by his wit, learning, and knowledge, deserted him when they had attained their purposes by Walpole’s downfall. Mr. A. Chalmers concludes a memoir of him by an observation that ought to be rivetted on the mind of every man who thinks himself a public character. “The ingratitude of statesmen to the persons whom they make use of as the instruments of their ambition, should furnish an instruction to men of abilities in future times; and engage them to build their happiness on the foundation of their own personal integrity, discretion, and virtue.” Ralph the historian, in one of his pamphlets, says “Poor Amhurst, after having been the drudge of his party for the best part of twenty years together, was as much forgotten in the famous compromise of 1742, as if he had never been born! and when he died of what is called a broken heart, which happened a few months afterwards, became indebted to the charity of (Richard Francklin) a bookseller for a grave; not to be traced now, because then no otherwise to be distinguished, than by the freshness of the turf, borrowed from the next common to cover it.”

There is an orderOf mortals on the earth, who do becomeOld in their youth, and die ere middle age,Without the violence of warlike death;Some perishing of pleasure—some of study—Some worn with toil—some of mere weariness—Some of disease—and some insanity—And some of withered, or of broken hearts;For this last is a malady which slaysMore than are numbered in the lists of Fate,Taking all shapes, and bearing many names.Byron

Byron

1785. Prince Leopold of Brunswick, was drowned by the waters of Frankfort upon the Oder, in endeavouring to succour the inhabitants of a village which was overflowed.

1794. Sir William Jones died, aged forty-eight.

1794. James Bruce, the traveller into Abyssinia, died by falling down the stairs of his own house. He was born at Kinnaird, in Stirlingshire, North Britain, 1730. His veracity, defamed in his lifetime, has been supported by every subsequent information concerning the regions he visited.

Great Daffodil.Narcissus major.Dedicated toSt. Anastasius.

St. Vitalis, Martyr, about 62.Sts. DidymusandTheodora,A. D.304.St. Patricius, Bp. of Prussia, in Bithynia, Martyr.

1535. Albert Pio, prince of Carpi, was buried with extraordinary pomp in the church of the Cordeliers at Paris. He had been deprived of his principality by the duke of Ferrara, became an author, and finally a fanatic. Entering one day into one of the churches at Madrid, he presented holy water to a lady who had a very thin hand ornamented by a most beautiful and valuable ring. He exclaimed in a loud voice as she reached the water, “Madam, I admire the ring more than the hand.” The lady instantly exclaimed with reference to the cordon with which he was decorated, “And for my part, I admire the halter more than I do the ass.” He was buried in the habit of a Cordelier, and Erasmus made a satire upon the circumstance, entitled the “Seraphic Interment.”

1772. The counts Struensee, the Danish prime minister, and Brandt, the favourite of the king of Denmark, were executed opposite the eastern gate of Copenhagen. Their alleged crime was an intrigue with the queen of Denmark, the princess Carolina Matilda of England, sister to king George III., on whose entreaty she was removed from confinement in the castle of Cronenburg to Zell in the electorate of Hanover, where she died about three years afterwards.

Cuckoo Pink.Arum Maculatum.Dedicated toSts. DidymusandTheodora.

St. Peter, Martyr,A. D.1252.St. Robert, Abbot of Molesme,A. D.1110.St. Hugh, Abbot of Cluni,A. D.1109.St. Fiachna,A. D.630.

1779. Died at Pershore in Worcestershire, the Rev. John Ash, L.L. D. He was an eminent minister among the dissenters, but is better known for his grammar and other works in philology. His “Complete English Dictionary,” until the appearance of Mr. Todd’s octavo edition of Johnson’s, was the best compendium of words that could be referred to, and may still be consulted with advantage by the student.

1822. Sir Isaac Heard, garter principal king at arms, died aged ninety-one. He was a good herald and an amiable man.

A Morning in Spring.The dawn now breaks, the dews arise,And zephyrs fan the waving hill;The low’ring clouds begin to rise,And chilly vapours blot the skiesO’er neighb’ring woods the golden rayEmits the blush of op’ning day:The flocks, that leave the verdant brake,The dew-drops from their fleeces shake:The lawns, with gems besprinkled shine;The spider weaves his silky line;The cowslip, mark’d with spots of goldAnd daisies, all their hues unfold;The violets, more modest, shadeTheir odours in the silent glade;The early lark now wings her flight,And gaily soars beyond the sight;The tender linnet, and the thrush,Resound from ev’ry dripping bush,And finches, perch’d on many a spray,With dulcet sounds proclaim the day;The housewife now prepares to bakeThe kneaded bread, or homely cake;Or sets the milk, or tends the raceThat haunts her yard, or kitchen grace.When nature clothes the various sceneWith tufts of flow’rs, and robes of green;When limpid streams their lustres give,And health, and glad contentment liveWith lovely nymphs and happy swains,In humble cots, or tranquil plains,I bless her bounties, and I raiseMy artless theme to sounds of praise.While others seek for wealth and pow’r,Let me enjoy the sober hourWhich converse, or which books bestow,To soothe the heart, and blunt its woe!

A Morning in Spring.

The dawn now breaks, the dews arise,And zephyrs fan the waving hill;The low’ring clouds begin to rise,And chilly vapours blot the skiesO’er neighb’ring woods the golden rayEmits the blush of op’ning day:The flocks, that leave the verdant brake,The dew-drops from their fleeces shake:The lawns, with gems besprinkled shine;The spider weaves his silky line;The cowslip, mark’d with spots of goldAnd daisies, all their hues unfold;The violets, more modest, shadeTheir odours in the silent glade;The early lark now wings her flight,And gaily soars beyond the sight;The tender linnet, and the thrush,Resound from ev’ry dripping bush,And finches, perch’d on many a spray,With dulcet sounds proclaim the day;The housewife now prepares to bakeThe kneaded bread, or homely cake;Or sets the milk, or tends the raceThat haunts her yard, or kitchen grace.When nature clothes the various sceneWith tufts of flow’rs, and robes of green;When limpid streams their lustres give,And health, and glad contentment liveWith lovely nymphs and happy swains,In humble cots, or tranquil plains,I bless her bounties, and I raiseMy artless theme to sounds of praise.While others seek for wealth and pow’r,Let me enjoy the sober hourWhich converse, or which books bestow,To soothe the heart, and blunt its woe!

Herb Robert.Geranium Robertianum.Dedicated toSt. Robert.

St. Catharineof Sienna,A. D.1380.St. Maximus,A. D.250.Sts. James, Marian, &c.Martyrs in Numidia,A. D.259.St. Erkonwald, B. of London, 7th Cent.St. AjutreorAdjutor,A. D.1131.

St. Catharine often saw the devil. According to Ribadeneira, at six years old she knew the lives of the holy fathers and hermits by revelation, practised abstinence, and shut herself up with other children in a room, where they whipped themselves. At seven she offered herself to the Virgin as a spouse for her son. When marriageable, she refused the importunity of her parents to wed, and havingcut off her hair to keep her vow, they made her a kitchen-maid; but her father, one day as he was praying in a corner, seeing the Holy Ghost sitting upon her head in the shape of a dove, she was released from drudgery, and was favoured with a revelation from St. Dominick. She eat no meat, drank only water, and at last left off bread, sustaining herself by herbs alone, and her grace before meals was, “Let us go take the punishment due to this miserable sinner.” She so mastered sleep, that she scarcely took any rest, and her bed was only boards. She wore around her body next to the skin a chain of iron, which sunk into her flesh. Three times a day, and for an hour and a half each time, she flogged herself with another iron chain, till great streams of blood ran down; and when she took the black and white habit of the order of St. Dominick she increased her mortification. For three years she never spoke, except at confession; never stirred out of her cell but to go to the church; and sat up all night watching—taking rest in the quire at matins only, and then lying upon the floor with a piece of wood under her head for a bolster. She was tempted by devils in a strange manner described by Ribadeneira: but to drive them away, she disciplined her body with the iron chain so much the more. When the fiend perceived he could make no impression on her virginal heart, he changed his battery. She had undertaken to cure an old woman who had a cancer in her breast so loathsome, that no one would go near her, but by the devil’s instigation, the old woman gave out that Catharine was not as good as she should be, and stuck to her point. Catharine, knowing the devil’s tricks, would not desist; and, to do her honour, Christ appeared, and offered to her the choice of two crowns—one of pure gold, the other of thorns; she took the crown of thorns, pressed it so close upon her head, that it gave her great pain; and Christ commanded her to continue her attendance upon the woman, who, in consequence of a vision, confessed her calumny, to the great confusion of the devil. Ribadeneira says that after this, Christ appeared to her, “opened to her the wound in his side, and made her drink till she was so ravished, that her soul was deprived of its functions.” Her love and affection to Christ were so intense, that she was almost always languishing and sick; at last it took away her life, and she was dead for four hours, in which time she saw strange things concerning heaven, hell, and purgatory. On a certain day he appeared to her, with his mother and other saints, and espoused her in a marvellous and singular manner; visited her almost continually with the greatest familiarity and affection, sometimes in their company, though ordinarily he came alone, and entertained her by reciting and singing psalms with her. Once as she was coming home from church, he appeared to her in the disguise of a pilgrim, and begged a coat of her; she returned to the church, and secretly taking off her petticoat, brought it to him, not knowing who he was. He asked her for a shirt; she bade him follow her home, and she gave him her shift. Not content with this, he requested more clothes of her, as well for himself as a companion; but as she had nothing else left, and was much afflicted, in the night, he appeared to her as the pilgrim, and showing her what she had bestowed upon him in the garb he had assumed, promised to give her an invisible garment, which should keep her from all cold both of body and soul. One time she prayed to him to take from her her heart of flesh, and it seemed to her that he came, and opening her side, took out her heart, and carried it away with him. It appeared almost incredible to her confessor when she told him she had no heart; “Yet,” says Ribadeneira, “that which happened afterwards was a certain argument of the truth; for, in a few days, Christ appeared to her in great brightness, holding in his hand a ruddy heart, most beautiful to behold, and coming to her, put it into her left side, and said, ‘My daughter Catharine, now thou hast my heart instead of thy own;’ and having said this, he closed up her side again, in proof whereof a scar remained in her side, which she often showed.” By her influence with heaven, she obtained forgiveness for numbers that were ready to fall into hell. Two hardened and impenitent thieves, being led to execution, and tied and tortured on a cart, were attended by a multitude of devils. Catharine begged the favour of going with them in the cart to the city gates, and there by her prayers and intercession, Christ showed himself to the thieves, all bloody and full of wounds, invited them to penance, and promised them pardon if they would repent, which they accordingly did. Through her intercession, her mother, who diedwithout confession, was raised to life again, and lived till she was fourscore and nine years old. She had the gift of prophecy, healed the sick at the last gasp, cast out devils, and worked miracles. Once making bread of tainted flour, the “queen of angels” came to help her to knead it, and it proved to be most excellent bread, white and savoury. She drew also very good wine out of an empty hogshead. Her numerous victories over the devil enraged him so much, that he tormented her till she was nothing but skin and bones. Sometimes he amused himself with throwing her into the fire, and the marks and prints of the wounds he gave her, appeared all over her body. “At length,” says Ribadeneira, “when she was three and thirty years old, she entered into an agony, fought the devil valiantly, and triumphed over him at her death, which happened at Rome on the 29th of April, 1380, her ghost appearing to Father Raymundus, her confessor, at Genoa, on the same day, and her body working so many miracles, that for the multitude of people resorting thither, it could not be buried for three days.” All this may be seen in Ribadeneira’s “Lives of the Saints,” with more, which, from regard to the reader’s feelings, is not even adverted to. It should be added, that the present particulars are from the “Miraculous Host,” a pamphlet published in 1821, in illustration of a story, said to have been used in converting two ladies belonging to the family of Mr. Loveday of Hammersmith.

With the spring comes the lark, and now she carols her rich melody from the earliest beam to the meridian of solar glory. There is no enjoyment more delicious to the ear of nature, than her aërial song in this delightful season:—

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