January 13.

St. Arcadius.St. Benedict Biscop, or Bennet.St. Ælred, Tygrius.

Butler says he was in the service of Oswi, king of the Northumbrians; that at twenty-five years old he made a pilgrimage to Rome, returned and carried Alcfrid, the son of Oswi, back to the shrines of the apostles there, became a monk, received the abbacy of Sts. Peter and Paul, Canterbury, resigned it, pilgrimaged again to Rome, brought home books, relics, and religious pictures, founded the monastery of Weremouth, went to France for masons to build a church to it, obtained glaziers from thence to glaze it, pilgrimaged to Rome for more books, relics, and pictures, built another monastery at Jarrow on the Tine, adorned his churches with pictures, instructed his monks in the Gregorian chant and Roman ceremonies, and died on this day in 690. He appears to have had a love for literature and the arts, and, with a knowledge superior to the general attainment of the religious in that early age, to have rendered his knowledge subservient to the Romish church.

1807. The 12th of January in that year is rendered remarkable by a fatal accident at Leyden, in Holland. A vessel loaded with gunpowder entered one of the largest canals in the Rapenburg, a street inhabited chiefly by the most respectable families, and moored to a tree in front of the house of professor Rau, of the university. In Holland, almost every street has a canal in the middle, faced with a brick wall up to the level of the street, and with lime trees planted on both sides, which produce a beautiful effect, and form a delightful shade in hot weather. Vessels of all kinds are frequently moored to these trees, but Leyden being an inland town, the greater part of those which happened to be in the Rapenburg were country vessels. Several yachts, belonging to parties of pleasure from the Hague and other places, were lying close to the newly arrived vessel, and no person was aware of the destructive cargo it contained.

A student of the university, who, at about a quarter past four o’clock in the afternoon, was passing through a street from which there was a view of the Rapenburg, with the canal and vessels, related the following particulars to the editor of theMonthly Magazine:—

“At that moment, when every thing was perfectly tranquil, and most of the respectable families were sitting down to dinner in perfect security, at that instant, I saw the vessel torn from its moorings: a stream of fire burst from it in all directions, a thick, black cloud enveloped all the surrounding parts and darkened the heavens, whilst a burst, louder and more dreadful than the loudest thunder, instantly followed, and vibrated through the air to a great distance, burying houses and churches in one common ruin. For some moments horror and consternation deprived every one of his recollection, but an universal exclamation followed, of “O God, what is it?” Hundreds of people might be seen rushing out of their falling houses, and running along the streets, not knowing what direction to take; many falling down on their knees in the streets, persuaded that the last day was come; others supposed they had been struck by lightning, and but few seemed to conjecture the real cause. In the midst of this awful uncertainty, the cry of “O God, what is it?” again sounded mournfully through the air, but it seemed as if none could answer the dreadful question. One conjecture followed another, but at last, when the black thick cloud which had enveloped the whole city had cleared away a little, the awful truth was revealed, and soon all the inhabitants of the city were seen rushing to the ruins to assist the sufferers. There were five large schools on the Rapenburg, and all at the time full of children. The horror of the parents and relations of these youthful victims is not to be described or even imagined; andthough many of them were saved almost miraculously, yet no one dared to hope to see his child drawn alive from under a heap of smoking ruins.

“Flames soon broke out from four different parts of the ruins, and threatened destruction to the remaining part of Leyden. The multitude seemed as it were animated with one common soul in extricating the sufferers, and stopping the progress of the flames. None withdrew from the awful task, and the multitude increased every moment by people coming from the surrounding country, the explosion having been heard at the distance of fifty miles. Night set in, the darkness of which, added to the horrors of falling houses, the smothered smoke, the raging of the flames, and the roaring of the winds on a tempestuous winter night, produced a scene neither to be described nor imagined; while the heart-rending cries of the sufferers, or the lamentations of those whose friends or children were under the ruins, broke upon the ear at intervals. Many were so entirely overcome with fear and astonishment, that they stared about them without taking notice of any thing, while others seemed full of activity, but incapable of directing their efforts to any particular object.”

In the middle of the night, Louis Bonaparte, then king of Holland, arrived from the palace of Loo, having set out as soon as the express reached him with the dreadful tidings. Louis was much beloved by his subjects, and his name is still mentioned by them with great respect. On this occasion his presence was very useful. He encouraged the active and comforted the sufferers, and did not leave the place till he had established good order, and promised every assistance in restoring both public and private losses. He immediately gave a large sum of money to the city, and granted it many valuable privileges, besides exemption from imposts and taxes for a number of years.

Some degree of order having been restored, the inhabitants were divided into classes, not according to their rank, but the way in which they were employed about the ruins. These classes were distinguished by bands of different colours tied round their arms. The widely extended ruins now assumed the appearance of hills and valleys, covered with multitudes of workmen, producing to the eye an ever-varying scene of different occupations. The keel of the vessel in which the catastrophe commenced, was found buried deep in the earth at a considerable distance, together with the remains of a yacht from the Hague with a party of pleasure, which lay close to it. The anchor of the powder vessel was found in a field without the city, and a very heavy piece of lead at the foot of the mast was thrown into a street at a great distance.

One of the most affecting incidents was the fate of the pupils of the different schools on the Rapenburg. At the destructive moment, the wife of the principal of the largest of them was standing at the door with her child in her arms; she was instantly covered with the falling beams and bricks, the child was blown to atoms, and she was thrown under a tree at some distance. Part of the floor of the school-room sunk into the cellar, and twelve children were killed instantly; the rest, miserably wounded, shrieked for help, and one was heard to call, “Help me, help me, I will give my watch to my deliverer.” Fathers and mothers rushed from all parts of the city to seek their children, but after digging five hours they found their labour fruitless; and some were even obliged to leave the spot in dreadful suspense, to attend to other near relations dug out in other quarters. They at last succeeded, by incredible efforts, in bringing up some of the children, but in such a state that many of their parents could not recognise them, and not a few were committed to the grave without its being known who they were. Many of these children, both among the dead and those who recovered, bled profusely, while no wound could be discovered in any part of their bodies. Others were preserved in a wonderful manner, and without the least hurt. Forty children were killed. In some houses large companies were assembled, and in one, a newly married couple, from a distance, had met a numerous party of their friends. One person who was writing in a small room, was driven through a window above the door, into the staircase, and fell to the bottom without receiving much hurt. Many were preserved by the falling of the beams or rafters in a particular direction, which protected them, and they remained for many hours, some for a whole day and night. A remarkablefact of this kind happened, when the city of Delft was destroyed by an explosion of gunpowder in 1654; a child, a year old, was found two days afterwards sucking an apple, and sitting under a beam, with just space left for its body. Two others at a little distance were in their cradles quite safe. At that time almost the whole of Delft was destroyed.

Leyden is as large a city, but not so populous, as Rotterdam, the second city in Holland. Upwards of two hundred houses were overthrown on this occasion, besides churches and public buildings; the Stadt, or town-house, was among the latter.

One hundred and fifty-onedead bodies were taken from the ruins, besides many that died after. Upwards oftwo thousandwere wounded more or less dangerously. It is remarkable that none of the students of the university were either killed or wounded, though they all lodge in different parts of the city, or wherever they please. Contributions were immediately began, and large sums raised. The king of Holland gave 30,000 gilders, and the queen 10,000; a very large sum was collected in London.

Leyden suffered dreadfully by siege in 1573, and by the plague in 1624 and 1635, in which year 15,000 of the inhabitants were carried off within six months. In 1415 a convent was burnt, and most of the nuns perished in the flames. An explosion of gunpowder, in 1481, destroyed the council-chamber when full of people, and killed most of the magistrates.

The misfortunes of this city have become proverbial, and its very name has given rise to a pun. “Leyden” is “Lijden;”Leyden, the name of the city, andLijden, (to suffer,) have the same pronunciation in the Dutch language.

The chirp of the crickets from the kitchen chimney breaks the silence of still evenings in the winter. They come from the crevices, when the house is quiet, to the warm hearth, and utter their shrill monotonous notes, to the discomfiture of the nervous, and the pleasure of those who have sound minds in sound bodies. This insect and the grasshopper are agreeably coupled in a pleasing sonnet. The “summoning brass” it speaks of, our country readers well know, as an allusion to the sounds usually produced from some kitchen utensil of metal to assist in swarming the bees:—

To the Grasshopper and the Cricket.Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,Catching your heart up at the feel of June,Sole voice that’s heard amidst the lazy noon,When ev’n the bees lag at the summoning brass;And you, warm little housekeeper, who classWith those who think the candles come too soon,Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tuneNick the glad silent moments as they pass;Oh, sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,One to the fields, the other to the hearth,Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strongAt your clear hearts; and both were sent on earthTo sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,—In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.L. Hunt.

To the Grasshopper and the Cricket.

Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,Catching your heart up at the feel of June,Sole voice that’s heard amidst the lazy noon,When ev’n the bees lag at the summoning brass;And you, warm little housekeeper, who classWith those who think the candles come too soon,Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tuneNick the glad silent moments as they pass;Oh, sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,One to the fields, the other to the hearth,Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strongAt your clear hearts; and both were sent on earthTo sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,—In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.

L. Hunt.

Cambridge Lent Termbegins.

St. Veronica of Milan.St. Kentigern.

The festival of St. Hilary is not, at this time, observed by the Romish church until to-morrow, but it stands in old calendars, and in Randle Holmes’s Heraldry, on this day, whereon it is also placed in the English calendar. Butler says, he was born at Poictiers, became bishop of that city, was a commentator on Scripture, an orator, a poet, wrote against the Arians, was banished for his orthodoxy, but returned to his see, worked miracles, and died on the 13th of January, 368. Ribadeneira says, that in a certain island, uninhabitable by reason of venemous serpents, they fled from his holiness; that he put up a stake as a boundary, commanding them not to pass it, and they obeyed; that he raised a dead child to life, prayed his daughter to death, and did other astonishing things; especially after his decease, when two merchants,at their own cost and by way of venture, offered an image at his shrine, but as one begrudged the cost of his share, St. Hilary caused the image to divide from top to bottom, while being offered, keeping the one half, and rejecting the niggard’s moiety. The Golden Legend says, that St. Hilary also obtained his wife’s death by his prayers; and that pope Leo, who was an Arian, said to him, “Thou art Hilary the cock, and not the son of a hen;” whereat Hilary said, “I am no cock, but a bishop in France;” then said the pope, “Thou art HilaryGallus(signifying a cock) and I am Leo, judge of the papal see;” whereupon Hilary replied, “If thou be Leo, thou art not (a lion) of the tribe of Juda.” After this railing the pope died, and Hilary was comforted.

She was a nun, with a desire to live always on bread and water, died in 1497, and was canonized, after her claim to sanctity was established to the satisfaction of his holiness pope Leo X.

He was bishop of Glasgow, with jurisdiction in Wales, and, according to Butler, “favoured with a wonderful gift of miracles.” Bishop Patrick, in his “Devotions of the Romish Church,” says, “St. Kentigern had a singular way of kindling fire, whichIcould never have hit upon.” Being in haste to light candles for vigils, and some, who bore a spite to him, having put out all the fire in the monastery, he snatched the green bough of an hazel, blessed it, blew upon it, the bough produced a great flame, and he lighted his candles: “whence we may conjecture,” says Patrick, “that tinder-boxes are of a later invention than St. Kentigern’s days.”

Termis derived fromTerminus, the heathen god of boundaries, landmarks, and limits of time. In the early ages of Christianity the whole year was one continued term for hearing and deciding causes; but after the establishment of the Romish church, the daily dispensation of justice was prohibited by canonical authority, that the festivals might be kept holy.

Advent and Christmas occasioned the winter vacation; Lent and Easter the spring; Pentecost the third; and hay-time and harvest, the long vacation between Midsummer and Michaelmas.

Each term is denominated from the festival day immediately preceding its commencement; hence we have the terms of St. Hilary, Easter, the Holy Trinity, and St. Michael.

There are in each term stated days calleddies in banco, (days in bank,) that is, days of appearance in the court of common bench. They are usually about a week from each other, and have reference to some Romish festival. All original writs are returnable on these days, and they are therefore called the return days.

The first return in every term is, properly speaking, the first day of the term. For instance, the octave of St. Hilary, or the eighth day, inclusive, after the saint’s feast, falls on the 20th of January, because his feast is on the 13th of January. On the 20th, then, the court sits to takeessoigns, or excuses for non-appearance to the writ; “but,” says Blackstone, “as our ancestors held it beneath the condition of a freeman to appear or to do any thing at the precise time appointed,” the person summoned has three days of grace beyond the day named in the writ, and if he appear on the fourth day inclusive it is sufficient. Therefore at the beginning of each term the court does not sit for despatch of business till the fourth, or the appearance day, which is in Hilary term, for instance, on the 23d of January. In Trinity term it does not sit till the fifth day; because the fourth falls on the great Roman catholic festival ofCorpus Christi. The firstappearanceday therefore in each term is called the first day of the term; and the court sits till thequarto die post, or appearance day of the last return, or end of the term.

In each term there is one day whereon the courts do not transact business; namely, on Candlemas day, in Hilary term; on Ascension day, in Easter term; on Midsummer day, in Trinity term; and on All Saints’ day, in Michaelmas term. These are termedGranddays in the inns of court; andGaudydays at the two universities; they are observed asCollardays at the king’s court of St. James’s, for on these days, knights wear the collars of their respective orders.

An old January journal contains a remarkable anecdote relative to the deceaseof a M. Foscue, one of the farmers-general of the province of Languedoc. He had amassed considerable wealth by means which rendered him an object of universal detestation. One day he was ordered by the government to raise a considerable sum: as an excuse for not complying with the demand, he pleaded extreme poverty; and resolved on hiding his treasure in such a manner as to escape detection. He dug a kind of a cave in his wine-cellar, which he made so large and deep, that he used to go down to it with a ladder; at the entrance of it was a door with a spring lock on it, which on shutting would fasten of itself. He was suddenly missed, and diligent search made after him; ponds were drawn, and every suggestion adopted that could reasonably lead to his discovery, dead or alive. In a short time after, his house was sold; and the purchaser beginning to make some alterations, the workmen discovered a door in the wine-cellar with a key in the lock. On going down they found Foscue lying dead on the ground, with a candlestick near him, but no candle in it. On searching farther, they found the vast wealth that he had amassed. It is supposed, that, when he had entered his cave, the door had by some accident shut after him; and thus being out of the call of any person, he perished for want of food, in the midst of his treasure.

SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER.Thehollow windsbegin to blow;Theclouds look black, theglass is low;Thesoot falls down, thespaniels sleep;Andspidersfrom theircobwebs peep.Last night thesunwentpale to bed;Themooninhaloshid her head.The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,For, see, arainbowspans the sky.Thewalls are damp, theditches smell,Clos’dis the pink-ey’dpimpernel.Hark! how thechairsandtablescrack,Old Betty’s jointsare on the rack:Hercornswithshooting painstorment her,And to her bed untimely send her.Loudquack the ducks, thesea fowl cry,Thedistant hillsarelooking nigh.How restless are thesnorting swine!Thebusy fliesdisturb thekine.Lowo’er thegrasstheswallow wingsThecrickettoo, howsharp he sings!Pusson the hearth, withvelvet paws,Sitswipingo’er herwhisker’d jaws.Thesmokefromchimneys right ascendsThen spreading,back to earth it bends.Thewindunsteadyveers around,Or settling in theSouth is found.Through the clear stream thefishes rise,Andnimbly catchthe incautiousflies.Theglow-wormsnum’rous, clear and bright,Illum’dthedewy hilllast night.At dusk the squalidtoadwas seen,Likequadruped, stalk o’er the green.Thewhirling windthe dust obeys,And in therapid eddyplays.Thefroghas chang’d hisyellow vest,And in arusset coatis drest.Thesky is green, the air is still.Themellowblackbird’s voice is shrill.Thedog, so alter’d is his taste,Quits mutton-bones, ongrassto feast.Behold therooks, how odd their flightThey imitate thegliding kite,And seemprecipitate to fall,As if they felt the piercing ball.Thetender colts on back do lie,Nor heed the traveller passing by.Infiery redthesundothrise,Thenwades through cloudsto mount the skies.’Twillsurely rain, we see’t with sorrow,Noworking in the fields to-morrow.Darwin.

SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER.

Thehollow windsbegin to blow;Theclouds look black, theglass is low;Thesoot falls down, thespaniels sleep;Andspidersfrom theircobwebs peep.Last night thesunwentpale to bed;Themooninhaloshid her head.The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,For, see, arainbowspans the sky.Thewalls are damp, theditches smell,Clos’dis the pink-ey’dpimpernel.Hark! how thechairsandtablescrack,Old Betty’s jointsare on the rack:Hercornswithshooting painstorment her,And to her bed untimely send her.Loudquack the ducks, thesea fowl cry,Thedistant hillsarelooking nigh.How restless are thesnorting swine!Thebusy fliesdisturb thekine.Lowo’er thegrasstheswallow wingsThecrickettoo, howsharp he sings!Pusson the hearth, withvelvet paws,Sitswipingo’er herwhisker’d jaws.Thesmokefromchimneys right ascendsThen spreading,back to earth it bends.Thewindunsteadyveers around,Or settling in theSouth is found.Through the clear stream thefishes rise,Andnimbly catchthe incautiousflies.Theglow-wormsnum’rous, clear and bright,Illum’dthedewy hilllast night.At dusk the squalidtoadwas seen,Likequadruped, stalk o’er the green.Thewhirling windthe dust obeys,And in therapid eddyplays.Thefroghas chang’d hisyellow vest,And in arusset coatis drest.Thesky is green, the air is still.Themellowblackbird’s voice is shrill.Thedog, so alter’d is his taste,Quits mutton-bones, ongrassto feast.Behold therooks, how odd their flightThey imitate thegliding kite,And seemprecipitate to fall,As if they felt the piercing ball.Thetender colts on back do lie,Nor heed the traveller passing by.Infiery redthesundothrise,Thenwades through cloudsto mount the skies.’Twillsurely rain, we see’t with sorrow,Noworking in the fields to-morrow.

Darwin.

Oxford Lent Termbegins.

St. Hilary.St. Felix.Sts. Isaias and Sabbas.St. Barbasceminus,&c.

St. Felix of Nola, an exorcist, and afterwards a priest, was, according to Butler and Ribadeneira, a great miraculist. He lived under Decius, in 250; being fettered and dungeoned in a cell, covered with potsherds and broken glass, a resplendent angel, seen by the saint alone, because to him only was he sent, freed him of his chains and guided him to a mountain, where bishop Maximus, aged and frozen, lay for dead, whom Felix recovered by praying; for, straightway, he saw a bramble bear a bunch of grapes, with the juice whereof he recovered the bishop, and taking him on his back carried him home to his diocese. Being pursued by pagans, he fled to some ruins and crept through a hole in the wall, which spiders closed with their webs before the pagans got up to it, and there lay for six months miraculously supported. According to the Legend, his body, for ages after his death, distilled a liquor that cured diseases.

In January, 1784, died suddenly in Macclesfield-street, Soho, aged 79, Sam.Crisp, esq., a relation of the celebrated sir Nicholas Crisp. There was a remarkable singularity in the character of this gentleman. He was a bachelor, had been formerly a broker in ’Change-alley, and many years since had retired from business, with an easy competency. His daily amusement, for fourteen years before, was going from London to Greenwich, and immediately returning from thence, in the stage; for which he paid regularly £27 a year. He was a good-humoured, obliging, and facetious companion, always paying a particular attention, and a profusion of compliments, to the ladies, especially to those who were agreeable. He was perpetually projecting some little schemes for the benefit of the public, or, to use his own favourite maxim, pro bono publico; he was the institutor of the Lactarium in St. George’s Fields, and selected the Latin mottoes for the facetious Mrs. Henniver, who got a little fortune there. He projected the mile and half stones round London; and teased the printers of newspapers into the plan of letter-boxes. He was remarkably humane and benevolent, and, without the least ostentation, performed many generous and charitable actions, which would have dignified a more ample fortune.

THE WINTER ROBIN.A suppliant to your window comes,Who trusts your faith, and fears no guile:He claims admittance for your crumbs,And reads his passport in your smile.For cold and cheerless is the day,And he has sought the hedges round;No berry hangs upon the spray,Nor worm, nor ant-egg, can be found.Secure his suit will be preferred,No fears his slender feet deter;For sacred is the household birdThat wears the scarlet stomacher.Charlotte Smith.

THE WINTER ROBIN.

A suppliant to your window comes,Who trusts your faith, and fears no guile:He claims admittance for your crumbs,And reads his passport in your smile.For cold and cheerless is the day,And he has sought the hedges round;No berry hangs upon the spray,Nor worm, nor ant-egg, can be found.Secure his suit will be preferred,No fears his slender feet deter;For sacred is the household birdThat wears the scarlet stomacher.

A suppliant to your window comes,Who trusts your faith, and fears no guile:He claims admittance for your crumbs,And reads his passport in your smile.

For cold and cheerless is the day,And he has sought the hedges round;No berry hangs upon the spray,Nor worm, nor ant-egg, can be found.

Secure his suit will be preferred,No fears his slender feet deter;For sacred is the household birdThat wears the scarlet stomacher.

Charlotte Smith.

St. Paul, the first Hermit.St. Maurus.St. Main.St. John, Calybite.St. Isidore.St. Bonitus.St. Ita, orMida.St. Paul,A. D.342.

The life of St. Paul, the first hermit, is said, by Butler, to have been written by St. Jerome in 365, who received an account of it from St. Anthony and others. According to him, when twenty-two years old, St. Paul fled from the persecution of Decius to a cavern, near which grew a palm-tree, that supplied him with leaves for clothing, and fruit for food, till he was forty-three years of age; after which he was daily fed by a raven till he was ninety, and then died. St. Anthony, in his old age, being tempted by vanity, imagined himself the first hermit, till the contrary was revealed to him in a dream, wherefore, the next morning, he set out in search of St. Paul. “St. Jerome relates from his authors,” says Butler, “that he met a centaur, or creature, not with the nature and properties, but with something of the mixt shape of man and horse; and that this monster, or phantom of the devil, (St. Jerome pretends not to determine which it was,) upon his making the sign of the cross, fled away, after pointing out the way to the saint. Our author (St. Jerome) adds, that St. Anthony soon after met a satyr, who gave him to understand that he was an inhabitant of those deserts, and one of the sort whom the deluded gentiles adored for gods.” Ribadeneira describes this satyr as with writhed nostrils, two little horns on his forehead, and the feet of a goat. After two days’ search, St. Anthony found St. Paul, and a raven brought a loaf, whereupon they took their corporal refection. The next morning, St. Paul told him he was going to die, and bid him fetch a cloak given to St. Anthony by St. Athanasius, and wrap his body in it. St. Anthony then knew, that St. Paul must have been informed of the cloak by revelation, and went forth from the desert to fetch it; but before his return, St. Paul had died, and St. Anthony found two lions digging his grave with their claws, wherein he buried St. Paul, first wrapping him in St. Athanasius’s cloak, and preserving, as a great treasure, St. Paul’s garment, made of palm-tree leaves, stitched together. How St. Jerome, in his conclusion of St. Paul’s life, praises this garment, may be seen in Ribadeneira.

A writer, who signs himself “Crito” in the “Truth Teller,” No. 15, introduces us to an honest enthusiast, discoursing to his hearers on thesnow-dropof the season, and other offerings from Flora, to the rolling year. “Picture to your imagination, a poor, ‘dirty’ mendicant, of the order of St. Francis, who had long prayed and fasted in his sanctuary, and long laboured in his garden, issuing out on the morning of his first pilgrimage, without money and withoutprovisions, clad in his mantle and hood, ‘like a sad votarist in palmer’s weeds;’ and thus, and in these words, taking leave of the poor flock who lived round his gothic habitation.—‘Fellow-men, I owe you nothing, and I give you all; you neither paid me tithe nor rent, yet I have bestowed on you food and clothing in poverty, medicine in sickness, and spiritual counsel in adversity. That I might do all these things, I have devoted my life in the seclusion of those venerable walls. There I have consulted the sacred books of our church for your spiritual instruction and the good of your souls; to clothe you, I have sold the embroidered garment, and have put on the habit of mendicity. In the intercalary moments of my canonical hours of prayer, I have collected together the treasures of Flora, and gathered from her plants the useful arts of physic, by which you have been benefited. Ever mindful of the useful object of the labour to which I had condemned myself, I have brought together into the garden of this priory, the lily of the valley and the gentian of the mountain, the nymphæa of the lake, and the cliver of the arid bank; in short, I have collected the pilewort, the throatwort, the liverwort, and every other vegetable specific which the kind hand of nature has spread over the globe, and which I have designated by their qualities, and have converted to your use and benefit. Mindful also of the pious festivals which our church prescribes, I have sought to make these charming objects of floral nature, the timepieces of my religious calendar, and the mementos of the hastening period of my mortality. Thus I can light the taper to our Virgin Mother on the blowing of the white snowdrop, which opens its floweret at the time of Candlemas; the lady’s smock and the daffodil remind me of the Annunciation; the blue harebell, of the festival of St. George; the ranunculus, of the Invention of the Cross; the scarlet lychnis, of St. John the Baptist’s day; the white lily, of the Visitation of our Lady; and the virgin’s bower, of her Assumption; and Michaelmas, Martinmas, Holy Rood, and Christmas, have all their appropriate monitors. I learn the time of day from the shutting of the blossoms of the star of Jerusalem and the dandelion, and the hour of the night by the stars.”’

From kind feelings to the benevolence of the Franciscan mendicant’s address, which we may suppose ourselves to have just heard, we illustrate something of his purpose, by annexing the rose, the tulip, and the passion-flower, after an engraving by a catholic artist, who has impressed them with devotional monograms, and symbols of his faith.

flowers with devotional monograms

RURAL MUSINGS.Margaret.—What sports do you use in the forest?—Simon.—Not many; some few, as thus:—To see the sun to bed, and to arise,Like some hot amourist with glowing eyes,Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound him,With all his fires and travelling glories round him.Sometimes the moon on soft night clouds to rest,Like beauty nestling in a young man’s breast,And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keepAdmiring silence, while those lovers sleep,Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness,Naught doing, saying little, thinking less,To view the leaves thin dancers upon air,Go in eddy ground; and small birds, how they fare,When mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn,Filch’d from the careless Amalthea’s horn;And how the woods berries and worms provideWithout their pains, when earth has naught besideTo answer their small wants.C. Lamb.

RURAL MUSINGS.

Margaret.—What sports do you use in the forest?—Simon.—Not many; some few, as thus:—To see the sun to bed, and to arise,Like some hot amourist with glowing eyes,Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound him,With all his fires and travelling glories round him.Sometimes the moon on soft night clouds to rest,Like beauty nestling in a young man’s breast,And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keepAdmiring silence, while those lovers sleep,Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness,Naught doing, saying little, thinking less,To view the leaves thin dancers upon air,Go in eddy ground; and small birds, how they fare,When mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn,Filch’d from the careless Amalthea’s horn;And how the woods berries and worms provideWithout their pains, when earth has naught besideTo answer their small wants.

Margaret.—What sports do you use in the forest?—

Simon.—Not many; some few, as thus:—To see the sun to bed, and to arise,Like some hot amourist with glowing eyes,Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound him,With all his fires and travelling glories round him.Sometimes the moon on soft night clouds to rest,Like beauty nestling in a young man’s breast,And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keepAdmiring silence, while those lovers sleep,Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness,Naught doing, saying little, thinking less,To view the leaves thin dancers upon air,Go in eddy ground; and small birds, how they fare,When mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn,Filch’d from the careless Amalthea’s horn;And how the woods berries and worms provideWithout their pains, when earth has naught besideTo answer their small wants.

C. Lamb.

St Marcellus, Pope.St. Macarius the elder, of Egypt.St. Honoratus.St. Fursey.St. Henry, Hermit, &c.

According to Butler, he was so strict in penance, that the Christians disliked him; he was banished by Maxentius, “for his severity against a certain apostate;” and died pope in 310.

In the first of the “Letters from the Irish Islands,” in 1823, the writer addresses to his friend, a description of the rainbow on the hills at this season of the year. He says, “I could wish (provided I could ensure you one fine day in the course of the week) that you were here, to enjoy, in rapid succession, and, with all its wild magnificence, the whirlwind, the tempest, the ocean’s swell, and, as Burns beautifully expresses it,

Some gleams of sunshine, ’mid renewing storms.

To-day there have been fine bright intervals, and, while returning from a hasty ride, I have been greatly delighted with the appearance of a rainbow, gradually advancing before the lowering clouds, sweeping with majestic stride across the troubled ocean, then, as it gained the beach, and seemed almost within my grasp, vanishing amid the storm, of which it had been the lovely, but treacherous, forerunner. It is, I suppose, a consequence of our situation, and the close connection between sea and mountain, that the rainbows here are so frequent, and so peculiarly beautiful. Of an amazing breadth, and with colours vivid beyond description, I know not whether most to admire this aerial phenomenon, when, suspended in the western sky, one end of the bow sinks behind the island of Boffin, while, at the distance of several leagues, the other rests upon the misty hills of Ennis Turc; or when, at a later hour of the day, it has appeared stretched across the ample sides of Mülbrea, penetrating far into the deep blue waters that flow at its base. With feelings of grateful recollection too, we may hail the repeated visits of this heavenly messenger, occasionally, as often as five or six times in the course of the same day, in a country exposed to such astonishing, and, at times, almost incessant floods of rain.”

Behold yon bright, ethereal bow,With evanescent beauties glow;The spacious arch streams through the sky,Deck’d with each tint of nature’s dye,Refracted sunbeams, through the shower,A humid radiance from it pour;Whilst colour into colour fades,With blended lights and softening shades.Athenæum

Athenæum

“It is a happy effect of extreme mildness and moisture of climate, that most of our hills (in Ireland) are covered with grass to a considerable height, and afford good pasturage both in summer and winter. The grasses most abundant are the dogstail, (cynosurus cristatus,) several species of the meadow grass, (poa,) the fescue, (festuca duriuscula and pratensis,) and particularly the sweet-scented vernal grass, (anthoxanthum odoratum,) which abounds in the dry pastures, and mountain sides; where its withered blossoms, which it is remarkable that the cattle do not eat, give a yellowish brown tint to the whole pasture. Our bog lands are overrun with the couch, or fiorin grass, (agrostis stolonifera,) several other species of the agrostis, and the aira. This is, indeed, the country for a botanist; and one so indefatigable as yourself, would not hesitate to venture with us across the rushy bog, where you would be so well rewarded for the labour of springing from one knot of rushes to another, by meeting with the fringed blossoms of the bog-bean, (menyanthes trifoliata,) the yellow asphodel, (narthecium ossifragum,) the pale bog violet, (viola palustris,) both species of the pinguicula, and of the beautiful drosera, the English fly-trap, spreading its dewy leaves glistening in the sun. I could also point out to you, almost hid in the moist recesses of some dripping rock, the pretty miniature fern, (trichomanes Tunbridgensis,) which you may remember showing me for the first time at Tunbridge Wells: the osmunda lunaria and regalis are also to be found, with other ferns, mosses, and lichens, which it is far beyond my botanical skill to distinguish.—The man of science, to whatever branch of natural history his attention is directed, will indeed findnever-failing sources of gratification, in exploring paths, hitherto almost untrodden, in our wild country. Scarcely a county in England is without its peculiar Flora, almost every hill and every valley have been subject to repeated, scientific examination; while the productions of nature, so bountifully accorded to poor Ireland, are either unknown or disregarded.”

From the many games of forfeits that are played in parlours during in-door weather, one is presented to the perusal of youthful readers from “Winter Evening Pastimes.”

“The company being all seated in a circle, the person who is to conduct the game proposes to the party to repeat, in turns, the speech he is about to make; and it is agreed that those who commit any mistake, or substitute one word for another, shall pay a forfeit. The player then commences by saying, distinctly, ‘I am just come from my aunt Deborah’s garden. Bless me! what a fine garden is my aunt’s garden! In my aunt’s garden there are four corners.’ The one seated to the player’s right is to repeat this, word for word: if his memory fails he pays a forfeit, and gives up his turn to his next right-hand neighbour, not being permitted to correct his mistake. When this has gone all round, the conductor repeats the first speech, and adds the following:

‘In the first corner stands a superb alaternus,Whose shade, in the dog-days, won’t let the sun burn us.’

“This couplet having been sent round as before, he then adds the following:

‘In the second corner growsA bush which bears a yellow rose:Would I might my love disclose!’

“This passes round in like manner:

‘In the third corner Jane show’d me much London pride;Let your mouth to your next neighbour’s ear be applied,And quick to his keeping a secret confide.’

“At this period of the game every one must tell his right-hand neighbour some secret.

“In the fourth round, after repeating the whole of the former, he concludes thus:

‘In the fourth corner doth appearOf amaranths a crowd;Each secret whisper’d in the earMust now be told aloud.’

“Those who are unacquainted with this game occasionally feel not a little embarrassed at this conclusion, as the secrets revealed by their neighbour may be such as they would not like to be published to the whole party. Those who are aware of this finesse take care to make their secrets witty, comic, or complimentary.”

WINTER.This is the eldest of the seasons: heMoves not like Spring with gradual step, nor growsFrom bud to beauty, but with all his snowsComes down at once in hoar antiquity.No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests fleeBefore him, nor unto his time belongThe suns of summer, nor the charms of song,That with May’s gentle smiles so well agree.But he, made perfect in his birthday cloud,Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound,And with a tender footstep prints the ground,As tho’ to cheat man’s ear; yet while he staysHe seems as ’twere to prompt our merriest lays,And bid the dance and joke be long and loud.Literary Pocket Book, 1820.

WINTER.

This is the eldest of the seasons: heMoves not like Spring with gradual step, nor growsFrom bud to beauty, but with all his snowsComes down at once in hoar antiquity.No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests fleeBefore him, nor unto his time belongThe suns of summer, nor the charms of song,That with May’s gentle smiles so well agree.But he, made perfect in his birthday cloud,Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound,And with a tender footstep prints the ground,As tho’ to cheat man’s ear; yet while he staysHe seems as ’twere to prompt our merriest lays,And bid the dance and joke be long and loud.

Literary Pocket Book, 1820.

St. Anthony, Patriarch of Monks.Sts. Speusippus, Eleusippus, and Meleusippus.Sts. Sulpicius I. and II., Abps. of Bourges.St. Milgithe.St. Nennius, or Nennidhius.

The memoirs of St. Anthony make a distinguished figure in the lives of the saints by Alban Butler, who states the particulars to have been extracted from “The Life of St. Anthony,” compiled by the great St. Athanasius; “a work,” saysButler, “much commended by St. Gregory Nazianzen, St. Jerom, St. Austin,” &c. This statement by Butler, whose biographical labours are estimated by catholics as of the highest order, and the extraordinary temptations which render the life of St. Anthony eminently remarkable, require at least so much notice of him, as may enable the general reader to determine upon the qualities attributed to him, and the reputation his name has attained in consequence.

According to Butler, St. Anthony was born in 251, at Coma near Heraclea in Egypt, and in that neighbourhood commenced the life of a hermit: he was continually assailed by the devil. His only food was bread with a little salt, he drank nothing but water, never ate before sunset, sometimes only once in two or four days, and lay on a rush mat or on the bare floor. For further solitude he left Coma, and hid himself in an old sepulchre, till, in 285, he withdrew into the deserts of the mountains, from whence, in 305, he descended and founded his first monastery. His under garment was sackcloth, with a white sheepskin coat and girdle. Butler says that he “was taught to apply himself to manual labour by an angel, who appeared, platting mats of palm-tree leaves, then rising to pray, and after some time sitting down again to work; and who at length said to him, ‘Do this, and thou shalt be saved.’ The life, attributed by Butler to St. Athanasius, informs us that our saint continued in some degree to pray whilst he was at work; that he detested the Arians; that he would not speak to a heretic unless to exhort him to the true faith; and that he drove all such from his mountain, calling them venomous serpents. He was very anxious that after his decease he should not be embalmed, and being one hundred and five years old, died in 356, having bequeathed one of his sheepskins, with the coat in which he lay, to St. Athanasius.” So far Butler.

St. Anthony meets the devil

St. Athanasius, or rather the life of St. Anthonybeforealluded to, which, notwithstanding Butler’s authorities, may be doubted as the product of Athanasius; but, however that may be, that memoir of St. Anthony is very particular in its account of St. Anthony’s warfare with the infernal powers. It says that hostilities commenced when the saint first determined on hermitizing; “in short, the devil raised a great deal of dust in his thoughts, that by bemudding and disordering his intellects he might make St. Anthony let go his design.” In his first conflict with the devil he was victorious, although satan appeared to him in an alluring shape. Next he came in the form of a black boy, and was again defeated. After that Anthony got into a tomb and shut down the top, but the devil found him out, and, with a great company of other devils, so beat and bruised him, that in the morning he was discovered by the person who brought his bread, lying like a dead man on the ground; whereupon he took him up and carried him to the town church, where many of his friends sat by him until midnight. Anthony then coming to himself and seeing all asleep, caused the person who brought him thither to carry him back privately, and again got into the tomb, shutting down the tomb-top as before. Upon this, the devils being very much exasperated, one night, made a noise so dreadful, that the walls shook. “They transformed themselves into the shapes of all sorts of beasts, lions, bears, leopards, bulls, serpents, asps, scorpions and wolves; every one of which moved and acted agreeably to the creatures which they represented; the lion roaring and seeming to make towards him, the bull to butt, the serpent to creep, and the wolf to run at him, and so in short all the rest; so that Anthony was tortured and mangled by them so grievously that his bodily pain was greater than before.” But, as it were laughingly, he taunted them, and the devils gnashed their teeth. This continued till the roof of his cell opened, a beam of light shot down, the devils became speechless, Anthony’s pain ceased, and the roof closed again. At one time the devil laid the semblance of a large piece of plate in his way, but Anthony, perceiving the devil in the dish, chid it, and the plate disappeared. At another time he saw a quantity of real gold on the ground, and to show the devil “that he did not value money, he leaped over it as a man in a fright over a fire.” Having secluded himself in an empty castle, some of his acquaintance came often to see him, but in vain; he would not let them enter, and they remained whole days and nights listening to a tumultuous rout of devils bawling and wailing within. He lived in that state for twenty years, never seeing or being seen by any one, till his friends broke open the door, and “the spectatorswere in amazement to see his body that had been so belaboured by devils, in the same shape in which it was before his retirement.” By way of a caution to others he related the practices of the devils, and how they appeared. He said that, “to scare us, they will represent themselves so tall as to touch the ceiling, and proportionably broad; they often pretend to sing psalms and cite the scriptures, and sometimes while we are reading they echo what we read; sometimes they stamp, sometimes they laugh, and sometimes they hiss: but when one regards them not, then they weep and lament, as vanquished. Once, when they came threatening and surrounding me like soldiers, accoutred and horsed, and again when they filled the place with wild beasts and creeping things, I sung Psalm xix. 8., and they were presently routed. Another time, when they appearedwith a light in the dark, and said, ‘We are come, Anthony, to lend thee our light,’ I prayed, shutting my eyes, because I disdained to behold their light, and presently their light was put out. After this they came and hissed and danced, but as I prayed, and lay along singing, they presently began to wail and weep as though they were spent. Once there came a devil very tall in appearance, that dared to say, ‘What wouldst thou have me bestow upon thee?’ but I spat upon him and endeavoured to beat him, and, great as he was, he disappeared with the rest of the devils. Once one of them knocked at the door of my cell, and when I opened it I saw a tall figure; and when I asked him, ‘Who art thou?’ he answered, ‘I am satan; Why do the monks blame and curse me? I have no longer a place or a city, and now the desert is filled with monks; let them not curse one to no purpose.’ I said to him, ‘Thou art a liar,’ &c. and he disappeared.” A deal more than this he is related to have said by his biographer, who affirms that Anthony, “having been prevailed upon to go into a vessel and pray with the monks, he, and he only, perceived a wretched and terrible stink; the company said there was some salt fish in the vessel, but he perceived another kind of scent, and while he was speaking, a young man that had a devil, and who had entered before them and hid himself, cried out, and the devil was rebuked by St Anthony and came out of him, and then they all knew that it was the devil that stunk.”—“Wonderful as these things are, there are stranger things yet; for once, as he was going to pray, he was in a rapture, and (which is a paradox) as soon as he stood up, he saw himself without himself, as it were in the air, and some bitter and terrible beings standing by him in the air too, but the angels, his guardians, withstood them,”—“He had also another particular favour, for as he was sitting on the mount in a praying posture, and perhaps gravelled with some doubt relating to himself, in the night-time, one called to him, and said, ‘Anthony, arise, go forth and look;’ so he went out and saw a certain terrible, deformed personage standing, and reaching to the clouds, and winged creatures, and him stretching out his hands; and some of them he saw were stopped by him, and others were flying beyond him; whereupon the tall one gnashed his teeth, and Anthony perceived that it was the enemy of souls, who seizes on those who are accountable to him, but cannot reach those who are not persuadable by him.” His biographer declares that the devils fled at his word, as fast as from a whip.

It appears from lady Morgan, that at the confectioners’ in Rome, on twelfth-day, “saints melt in the mouth, and the temptations of St. Anthony are easily digested.”

Alban Butler says that there is an extant sermon of St. Anthony’s wherein he extols the efficacy of the sign of the cross for chasing the devil, and lays down rules for the discernment of spirits. There is reason to believe that he could not read; St. Austin thinks that he did not know the alphabet. He wore his habit to his dying day, neither washing the dirt off his body, nor so much as his feet, unless they were wet by chance when he waded through water on a journey. The jesuit Ribadeneira affirms, that “all the world relented and bemoaned his death for afterwards there fell no rain from heaven for three years.”

TheEngravingofSt. Anthonyconflicting with theDevil, in the present sheet, is after Salvator Rosa.

Saints’ bodies appear, from the Romish writers, to have waited undecomposed in their graves till their odour of sanctity rendered it necessary that their remains should be sought out; and their bodies were sure to be found, after a few centuries of burial, as fresh as if they had been interred a few weeks. Hence it is, that though two centuries elapsed before Anthony’s was looked for, yet his grave was not only discovered, but his body was in the customary preservation. It was brought to Europe through a miracle. One Joceline, who had neglected a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, was, therefore, sorely wounded in battle, and carried for dead into a chapel dedicated to St. Anthony. When he began to revive, a multitude of devils appeared to drag him to hell and one devil cast a halter about his neck to strangle him, wherefore St. Anthony appeared; the devils flew fromhimof course, and he commanded Joceline to perform his pilgrimage, and to convey his body from the east; whereupon Joceline obeyed, and carried it to France. When Patrick wrote, the saint’s beard was shown at Cologne, with a part of his hand, and another piece of him was shown at Tournay;two of his relics were at Antwerp; a church dedicated to him at Rome was famous for his sackcloth, and part of his palm coat; the other part of it was exhibited at Vienna, and the rest of his body was so multiplied about, that there were limb-bones enough for the remains of half a dozen uncanonized persons. The Romish church has not made saints of late years.

On St. Anthony’s day, the beasts at Rome are blessed, and sprinkled with holy water. Dr. Forster, in his “Perennial Calendar,” remarks, that “the early Catholics regarded no beasts, birds, or fish, as hateful.” He says, that “St. Anthony was particularly solicitous about animals, to which a whimsical picture by Salvator Rosa represents him as preaching;” and he suggests, that “from his practices, perhaps, arose the custom of blessings passed on animals still practised at Rome; he regarded all God’s creatures as worthy of protection”—except heretics, the doctor might have added; unless, indeed, which seems to have been the case, Anthony regardedthemas “creatures” of the devil, between whom, and this saint, we have seen that the Rev. Alban Butler takes especial care we should not be ignorant of the miraculous conflicts just related.

Lady Morgan says, that the annual benediction of the beasts at Rome, in a church there dedicated to St. Anthony, lasts for some days: “for not only every Roman from the pope to the peasant, who has a horse, a mule, or an ass, sends his cattle to be blessed at St. Anthony’s shrine, but all the English go with their job horses and favourite dogs; and for the small offering of a couple ofpaoli, get them sprinkled, sanctified, and placed under the protection of this saint. Coach after coach draws up, strings of mules mix with carts and barouches, horses kick, mules are restive, and dogs snarl, while the officiating priest comes forward from his little chapel, dips a brush into a vase of holy water, sprinkles and prays over the beasts, pockets the fee, and retires.”

Dr. Conyers Middleton says, that when he was at Rome, he had his own horses blest for eighteen-pence, as well to satisfy his curiosity, as to humour his coachman, who was persuaded that some mischance would befall them in the year, if they had not the benefit of the benediction.

Lady Morgan describes a picture in the Borghese palace at Rome, representing St. Anthony preaching to the fishes: “The salmon look at the preacher with an edified face, and a cod, with his upturned eyes, seems anxiously seeking for the new light. The saint’s sermon is to be had in many of the shops at Rome. St. Anthony addresses the fish, ‘Dearly beloved fish;’ and the legend adds, that at the conclusion of the discourse, ‘the fish bowed to him with profound humility, and a grave and religious countenance.’ The saint then gave the fish his blessing, who scudded away to make new conversions,—the missionaries of the main.

“The church of St. Anthony at Rome is painted in curious old frescos, with the temptations of the saint. In one picture he is drawn blessing the devil, disguised in a cowl; probably at that time

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