OCTOBER.

Then, for “October Month,” they putA rude illuminated cut—Reaching ripe grapes from off the vine,Or pressing them, or tunning wine;Or, something to denote that thereWas vintage at this time of year.

We have “hopes and fears” for the year at all seasons, as we have for ourselves “in infancy” and throughout life. After the joyousness of summer comes theseason of foreboding, for “the year has reached its grand climacteric, and is fast falling ‘into the sere, the yellow leaf.’ Every day a flower drops from out the wreath that binds its brow—not to be renewed. Every hour the sun looks more and more askance upon it, and the winds, those summer flatterers, come to it less fawningly. Every breath shakes down showers of its leafy attire, leaving it gradually barer and barer, for the blasts of winter to blow through it. Every morning and evening takes away from it a portion of that light which gives beauty to its life, and chills it more and more into that torpor which at length constitutes its temporary death. And yet October is beautiful still, no less ‘for what it gives than what it takes away;’ and even for what it gives during the very act of taking away.—The whole year cannot produce a sight fraught with more rich and harmonious beauty than that which the woods and groves present during this month, notwithstanding, or rather in consequence of, the daily decay of their summer attire; and at no other season can any given spot of landscape be seen to much advantage as a mere picture.—An extensive plantation of forest trees presents a variety of colours and of tints that would scarcely be considered asnaturalin a picture, any more than many of the sunsets of September would. Among those trees which retain their green hues, the fir tribe are the principal; and these, spiring up among the deciduous ones, now differ from them no less in colour than they do in form. The alders, too, and the poplars, limes, and horse-chestnuts, are still green,—the hues of their leaves not undergoing much change as long as they remain on the branches. Most of the other forest trees have put on each its peculiar livery; the planes and sycamores presenting every variety of tinge, from bright yellow to brilliant red; the elms being, for the most part, of a rich sunny umber, varying according to the age of the tree and the circumstances of its soil, &c.; the beeches having deepened into a warm glowing brown, which the young ones will retain all the winter, and till the new spring leaves push the present ones off; the oaks varying from a dull dusky green to a deep russet, according to their ages; and the Spanish chestnuts, with their noble embowering heads, glowing like clouds of gold.—As for the hedge-rows, though they have lost nearly all their flowers, the various fruits that are spread out upon them for the winter food of the birds, make them little less gay than they were in spring and summer. The most conspicuous of these are the red hips of the wild rose; the dark purple bunches of the luxuriant blackberry; the brilliant scarlet and green berries of the nightshade; the wintry-looking fruit of the hawthorn; the blue sloes, covered with their soft tempting-looking bloom; the dull bunches of the woodbine; and the sparkling holly-berries.—We may also still, by seeking for them, find a few flowers scattered about beneath the hedge-rows, and the dry banks that skirt the woods, and even in the woods themselves, peeping up meekly from among the crowds of newly fallen leaves. The prettiest of these is the primrose, which now blows a second time. But two or three of the persicaria tribe are still in flower, and also some of the goosefoots. And even the elegant and fragile heathbell, or harebell, has not yet quite disappeared; while some of the ground flowers that have passed away have left in their place strange evidences of their late presence; in particular, the singular flower (if it can be called one) of the arums, or lords and ladies, has changed into an upright bunch, or long cluster, of red berries, starting up from out the ground on a single stiff stem, and looking almost like the flower of a hyacinth.—The open fields during this month, though they are bereaved of much of their actual beauty and variety, present sights that are as agreeable to the eye, and even more stirring to the imagination, than those which have passed away. The husbandman is now ploughing up the arable land, and putting into it the seeds that are to produce the next year’s crops; and there are not, among rural occupations, two more pleasant to look upon than these: the latter, in particular, is one that, while it gives perfect satisfaction to the eye as a mere picture, awakens and fills the imagination with the prospective views which it opens.—It is not till this month that we usually experience the equinoxial gales, those fatal visitations which may now be looked upon as the immediate heralds of the coming on of winter; as in the spring they were the sure signs of its having passed away. Bitter-sweet is it, now, to lie awake at night, and listen wilfully (as if we would not let them escape us) to the fierce howlings of the winds, each accession of which gives newvividness to the vision of some tall ship, illumined by every flash of lightning—illumined, but not renderedvisible—for there are no eyes within a hundred leagues to look upon it; and crowded with human beings—(not ‘souls’ only, as the sea-phrase is, for then it were pastime—butbodies) every one of which sees, in imagination, its own grave a thousand fathom deep beneath the dark waters that roar around, and feels itselfbeforehand.”[360]

The Wind.The wind has a language, I would I could learn!Sometimes ’tis soothing, and sometimes ’tis stern,—Sometimes it comes like a low sweet song,And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along,And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain,And slumber sinks down on the wandering main,And its crystal arms are folded in rest,And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.Sometimes when autumn grows yellow and sere,And the sad clouds weep for the dying year,It comes like a wizard, and mutters its spell,—I would that the magical tones I might tell—And it beckons the leaves with its viewless hand,And they leap from their branches at its command,And follow its footsteps with wheeling feet,Like fairies that dance in the moonlight sweet.Sometimes it comes in the wintry night,And I hear the flap of its pinions of might,And I see the flash of its withering eye,As it looks from the thunder-cloud sailing on high,And pauses to gather its fearful breath,And lifts up its voice like the angel of death—And the billows leap up when the summons they hearAnd the ship flies away, as if winged with fear,And the uncouth creatures that dwell in the deep,Start up at the sound from their floating sleep,And career through the water, like clouds through the night,To share in the tumult their joy and delight,And when the moon rises, the ship is no more,Its joys and its sorrows are vanish’d and o’er,And the fierce storm that slew it has faded away,Like the dark dream that flies from the light of the day.The Improvisatrice.

The Wind.

The wind has a language, I would I could learn!Sometimes ’tis soothing, and sometimes ’tis stern,—Sometimes it comes like a low sweet song,And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along,And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain,And slumber sinks down on the wandering main,And its crystal arms are folded in rest,And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.Sometimes when autumn grows yellow and sere,And the sad clouds weep for the dying year,It comes like a wizard, and mutters its spell,—I would that the magical tones I might tell—And it beckons the leaves with its viewless hand,And they leap from their branches at its command,And follow its footsteps with wheeling feet,Like fairies that dance in the moonlight sweet.Sometimes it comes in the wintry night,And I hear the flap of its pinions of might,And I see the flash of its withering eye,As it looks from the thunder-cloud sailing on high,And pauses to gather its fearful breath,And lifts up its voice like the angel of death—And the billows leap up when the summons they hearAnd the ship flies away, as if winged with fear,And the uncouth creatures that dwell in the deep,Start up at the sound from their floating sleep,And career through the water, like clouds through the night,To share in the tumult their joy and delight,And when the moon rises, the ship is no more,Its joys and its sorrows are vanish’d and o’er,And the fierce storm that slew it has faded away,Like the dark dream that flies from the light of the day.

Sometimes when autumn grows yellow and sere,And the sad clouds weep for the dying year,It comes like a wizard, and mutters its spell,—I would that the magical tones I might tell—And it beckons the leaves with its viewless hand,And they leap from their branches at its command,And follow its footsteps with wheeling feet,Like fairies that dance in the moonlight sweet.

Sometimes it comes in the wintry night,And I hear the flap of its pinions of might,And I see the flash of its withering eye,As it looks from the thunder-cloud sailing on high,And pauses to gather its fearful breath,And lifts up its voice like the angel of death—And the billows leap up when the summons they hearAnd the ship flies away, as if winged with fear,And the uncouth creatures that dwell in the deep,Start up at the sound from their floating sleep,And career through the water, like clouds through the night,To share in the tumult their joy and delight,And when the moon rises, the ship is no more,Its joys and its sorrows are vanish’d and o’er,And the fierce storm that slew it has faded away,Like the dark dream that flies from the light of the day.

The Improvisatrice.

[360]Mirror of the Months.

This is the season of holding a remarkable court, which we are pleasantly introduced to by the relation of a good oldwriter.[361]

“Ryding from Ralegh towards Rochford, I happened to haue the good companie of a gentleman of this countrey, who, by the way, shewed me a little hill, which he called the Kings Hill; and told me of a strange customarie court, and of long continuance, there yearely kept, the next Wednesday after Michaelmas day in the night, upon the first cock crowing without any kinde of light, saue such as the heavens will affoard: The steward of the court writes onely with coales, and calleth all such as are bound to appeare, with as low a voice as possiblie he may, giuing no notice when he goeth to execute his office. Howsoever, he that gives not answer is deeply amerced; which servile attendance (saith he) was imposed at the first vpon certaine tenants of divers mannors hereabouts, for conspiring in this place, at such an vnseasonable time, to raise a commotion. The title of the entrie of the court hee had in memory, and writ it downe for me when we came to Rochford.” Fuller speaks of its running “in obscure barbarous rimes,” which he inserts nearly in the words of the legal authorities who give the followingaccount:—

“Lawless Court.OnKingshillatRochfordinEssex, on Wednesday morning next, afterMichaelmasday, atCocks-crowing, Is held a Court, vulgarly called ‘The Lawless Court.’ They whisper and have no Candle, nor any Pen and Ink but a Coal; and he that ows Suit or Service, and appears not, forfeits double his rent every hour he is missing. This Court belongs to the Honor ofRalegh, and to the Earl ofWarwick; and is called ‘Lawless,’ because held at an unlawful or lawless hour, orQuia dicta sine lege. The Title of it in the Court Rolls, runsthus,—

KingshiinRochford.}ss.CVria de Domino Rege,Dicta sine Lege.KingshiinRochford.}ss.CVria de Domino Rege, Dicta sine Lege.Tenta est ibidemPer ejusdem consuetudinem,Ante ortum solis,Luceat nisi polus,Senescallus solusNil scribit nisi colis,Toties voluerit,Gallus ut cantaverit,Per cujus soli sonitus,Curia est summonita,Clamat clam pro Rege,In Curia sine Lege,Et nisi cito venerint,Citiùs pænituerint,Et nisi clam accedant,Curia non attendat,Qui venerit cum lumine,Errat in regimine:Et dum sunt sine lumine,Capti sunt in crimine:Curia sine cura,Jurati de injuria,Tenta ibidem die Mercurii (ante Diem) proximi post Festum SanctiMichaelis Arch-angeli,Anno regni Regis,” &c.

KingshiinRochford.}ss.CVria de Domino Rege,Dicta sine Lege.

KingshiinRochford.

}ss.CVria de Domino Rege,Dicta sine Lege.

}ss.C

Vria de Domino Rege,Dicta sine Lege.

KingshiinRochford.}ss.CVria de Domino Rege, Dicta sine Lege.

Tenta est ibidem

Per ejusdem consuetudinem,

Ante ortum solis,

Luceat nisi polus,

Senescallus solus

Nil scribit nisi colis,

Toties voluerit,

Gallus ut cantaverit,

Per cujus soli sonitus,

Curia est summonita,

Clamat clam pro Rege,

In Curia sine Lege,

Et nisi cito venerint,

Citiùs pænituerint,

Et nisi clam accedant,

Curia non attendat,

Qui venerit cum lumine,

Errat in regimine:

Et dum sunt sine lumine,

Capti sunt in crimine:

Curia sine cura,

Jurati de injuria,

Tenta ibidem die Mercurii (ante Diem) proximi post Festum SanctiMichaelis Arch-angeli,Anno regni Regis,” &c.

This Court is mentioned inCam. Britan, though imperfectly; who says this servile attendance was imposed on the Tenants, for conspiring at the like unseasonable time to raise aCommotion.[362]

We are already acquainted with so many whimsies of our forefathers, that any thing related of their doings ceases to surprise; we might otherwise be astonished by the fact, that Folly had an order of merit, and held its great court every year on the first Sunday after Michaelmas-day.

An inquiring antiquary gives some particulars of this institution, with a translation of the document for its foundation, which is preserved in Von Buggenhagen’s “Account of the Roman and National Antiquities” discovered at Cleves. He relates of it asfollows:—

To this document are affixed thirty-six seals, all imprinted on green wax, with the exception of that of the founder, which is on red wax, and in the centre of the rest; having on its right the seal of the count de Meurs, and on its left that of Diedrich van Eyl. The insignium borne by the knights of this order on the left side of their mantles consisted of a fool embroidered in a red and silver vest, with a cap on his head, intersected harlequin-wise with red and yellow divisions, and gold bells attached, with yellow stockings and black shoes; in his right hand was a cup filled with fruits, and in his left a gold key, symbolic of the affection subsisting between the different members.

It is uncertain when this order ceased, although it appears to have been in existence at the commencement of the sixteenth century, when, however, its pristine spirit had become totally extinct. The latest mention that has hitherto been found of it occurs in some verses prefixed by Onofrius Brand to the German translation of his father Sebastian Brand’s celebrated “Navis Stultifera Mortalium,” by the learned Dr. Geiler von Kaisersberg, which was published at Strasburg in the year 1520.

Two-fold was the purpose of the noble founders of this order; to relieve the wants and alleviate the miseries of their suffering fellow-creatures; and to banish ennui during the numerous festivals observed in those ages, when the unceasing routine of disports and recreations, which modern refinement has invented in the present, were unknown. During the period of its meeting, which took place annually, and lasted seven days, all distinctions of rank were laid aside, and the most cordial equality reigned throughout. Each had his particular part allotted to him on those occasions, and those who supported their characters in the ablest manner, contributed most to the conviviality and gaiety of the meeting. Indeed we cannot but be strongly prepossessed in its favour, when we recur to the excellent regulations which accompanied its institution, and were admirably calculated to preserve it, at least for a great length of time, from degenerating into absurdity and extravagance.

We must not confound this laudable establishment with the vulgar and absurd practices which, till of late years, existed in many places under the names of feasts of fools and of the ass, &c. These were only national festivals, intended for the occasional diversion, or, as in those days they were termed, rites to promote the pious edification of the lower classes, which, “not unfrequently introduced by a superstition of the lowest and most illiberalspecies,” soon became objects of depravity and unbridled licentiousness. Of a totally different nature also, and analagous only in quaintness of appellation, were the societies established by men of letters in various parts of Italy, such as the society of the “Insensáte,” at Perugia, of the “Stravaganti,” at Pisa, and the “Eteróclyti,” at Pesaro. Nor can I allow myself to pass over in silence on the present occasion the order or society of Fools, otherwise denominated “Respublica Binepsis,” which was founded towards the middle of the fourteenth century by some Polish noblemen, and took its name from the estate of one Psomka, the principal instigator, near Leublin. Its form was modelled after that of the constitution of Poland; like this, too, it had its king, its council, its chamberlain, its master of the hunt, and various other offices. Whoever made himself ridiculous by any singular and foolish propensity, on him was conferred an appointment befitting it. Thus he, who carried his partiality to the canine species to a ridiculous extreme, was created master of the hunt; whilst another, who constantly boasted of his valorous achievements, was raised to the dignity of field marshal. No one dared to refuse the acceptance of such a vocation, unless he wished to become a still greater object of ridicule and animadversion than before. This order soon experienced so rapid an increase of numbers that there were few at court who were not members of it. At the same time it was expressly forbidden that any lampooner should be introduced amongst them. The avowed object of this institution was to prevent the rising generation from the adoption of bad habits and licentious manners; and ridiculous as was its outward form, is not its design at least entitled to our esteem and veneration?

“We all, who have hereunto affixed our seals, make known unto all men, and declare, that after full and mature consideration, both on our own behalf and on account of the singular goodwill and friendship which we all bear, and will continue to bear towards one another, we have instituted a society of fools, according to the form and manner hereuntosubjoined:—

“Be it therefore known, that each member shall wear a fool, either made of silver, or embroidered, on his coat. And such member as shall not daily wear this fool, him shall and may any one of us, as often as he shall see it, punish with a mulct of three old great tournois, (livres tournois, about four-pence halfpenny,) which three tournois shall be appropriated to the relief of the poor in the Lord!

“Further, will we fools yearly meet, and hold a conventicle and court, and assemble ourselves, to wit at Cleves, every year on the Sunday after Michaelmas-day; and no one of us shall depart out of the city, nor mount his horse to quit the place where we may be met together, without previous notice, and his having defrayed that part of the expenses of the court which he is bound to bear. And none of us shall remain away on any pretence or for any other reason whatsoever than this, namely, that he is labouring under very great infirmity; excepting moreover those only who may be in a foreign country, and at six days’ journey from their customary place of residence. If it should happen that any one of the society is at enmity with another, then must the whole society use their utmost endeavours to adjust their differences and reconcile them; and such members and all their abettors shall be excluded from appearing at the court on the Friday morning when it commences its sitting at sun-rise, until it breaks up on the same Friday at sun-set.

“And, we will further, at the royal court yearly elect one of the members to be king of our society, and six to be counsellors; which king with his six counsellors shall regulate and settle all the concerns of the society, and in particular appoint and fix the court of the ensuing year; they shall also procure, and cause to be procured, all things necessary for the said court, of which they shall keep an exact account. These expenses shall be alike both to knights and squires, and a third part more shall fall upon the lords than upon the knights and squires; but the counts shall be subject to a third part more than the lords.

“And early on the Tuesday morning (during the period of the court’s sitting) all of us members shall go to the church of the Holy Virgin at Cleves, to pray for the repose of all those of the society who may have died; and there shall each bring his separate offering.

“And each of us has mutually pledged his good faith, and solemnly engaged tofulfil faithfully, undeviatingly, and inviolably, all things which are above enumerated, &c.

“Done at Cleves, 1381, on the day of St. Cunibert.”

H. W.S.[363]

On the evening of Friday the 1st of October, 1736, during the performance of an entertainment calledDr. Faustus, at Covent-garden theatre, one James Todd who represented the miller’s man, fell from the upper stage, in a flying machine, by the breaking of the wires. He fractured his scull, and died miserably; three others were much hurt, but recovered. Some of the audience swooned, and the whole were in great confusion upon this sadaccident.[364]

For the Every-Day Book.

Little inferior to Mr. Punch, Mr. Merriman has stood eminently high at fairs, figured in market-places, and scarcely a village green in England, that has not felt the force of his irresistible appeals. He does not often approach the over-grown metropolis; his success here is less certain, and the few patrons that remain, love to feast their eyes and risible faculties without sparing a modicum from their pockets: the droll simpleton might crack his jokes without finding the kernel—cash.

A company of mountebanks, however, appeared on a green, north of White Conduit-house, several evenings last week. On Saturday the performance commenced at five o’clock in the afternoon. The performers consisted of the master, a short, middle aged person, with a florid complexion, dressed in decent half mourning. He possessed a sound pair of lungs, fair eloquence, and a good portion of colloquial ability. By the assistance of a little whip he kept in order a large ring, formed of boys, girls, and grown persons of both sexes. His eye, gray as a falcon’s, watched the reception he received, and seemed to communicate with his “mind’seye,” as to his subscribers. The rosy-faced maid servants, glad of the opportunity of gazing at the exhibitors, were rejoiced by the pretence of holding the “nursery treasures” to see all that could be seen. Here the calculator looked for patronage and encouragement. “Mr. Merriman,” a young man with his face and clothes duly coloured,à la Grimaldi, raised laughter by his quaint retorts, by attempts at tumbling to prove he could tumble well, and by drilling with a bugle-horn a dozen volunteer boys in many whimsical exercises, truly marvellous to simpering misses and their companions. The next performer was a short man with sharp features, sunburnt face, and shrill goat-like voice:—he tumbled in a clever, but, I think, dangerous manner. Then Mr. Merriman’s “imitations” followed; not to say any thing of those inimitable imitators, Mathews, Reeve, and Yates, he suited his audience to the very echo of the surrounding skeletons in brick and mortar. The tumbler then reposed by putting a loose coat over his party-coloured habit, and playing a pandean-pipe while “Mr. Merriman” sat on a piece of carpet spread on the ground, and tossed four gilt balls in the air at the same time, to the variations of the music. A drum was beat by a woman about forty, with a tiara on her head, who afterwards left the beating art and mounting the slack-wire, which was supported by three sticks, coned at each end to a triangle; she danced and vaultedà la Gouffe. A table was put on the wire, which she balanced, and bore a glass full of liquor on the rim as she twirled it on her finger. This was the acmè of the display. Tickets at one shilling each were now handed round with earnestness and much promise, for a lottery of prizes, consisting of teapots, waiters, printed calico, and two sovereigns thrown on the grass instead of a sheep. These temptations held out to many a Saturday night labourer the hope of increasing his week’s wages. The “conductor” of his company no doubt profited by the experience of which he was possessed. Many tickets were sold; expectation breathed—fancy pictured a teapot—or some token of fortune’s performance. The decision made, the die cast, now the laughing winner walked hurriedly away, hugging his prize, while the losers hid their chagrin, and were quietly dispersed by the “blank” influence, with secret wishes that their money was in their pockets again.

When I reflect upon this kind of amusement for the labouring classes, I see nothing to prevent its occasional appearance.The wit scattered about, though in a blundering way, is often smart.

In spite of decorum, of my better instruction in gentility, and Chesterfield’s axioms, I love to stand and shake my human system, if it be only to remind me of past observation, and to see the children so happy, who ring out music, in every responsive applause of the tricks so plausibly represented to their view. While “Mr. Merriman” does not invade the peace of society, I hope he will be allowed his precarious reign, as he promised “that he would forfeit fifty guineas if he came into the parish again at least for a twelvemonth.”

It is within my remembrance when former mountebanks distributed packets instead of blanks, containing nostrums against toothache, corns, bunions, warts, witchcraft and the ague. Doctor Bolus strutted and fretted his hour upon the stage, and gave as much wit for sixpence as kept the village alehouse in a roar for many weeks. But, I suppose, the mountebank profession, like every other, feels the changes of the times, and retrenchmentcries,—

“Ubi vos requiram, cum dies advenerit?”

*, *, P.

September 29, 1826.

Please to make the following correction,page 1270; for “heshaking,” read “theshaking.”

Mean Temperature 52·85.

[361]Fuller.[362]Cowel. Blount.[363]From Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.[364]Gentleman’s Magazine.

[361]Fuller.

[362]Cowel. Blount.

[363]From Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.

[364]Gentleman’s Magazine.

October 2, 1751, a man, for a wager of twenty guineas, walked from Shoreditch church, to the twenty mile stone near Ware, and back again, in sevenhours![365]

In October, 1754, lord Powerscourt having laid a wager with the duke of Orleans, that he would ride on his own horses from Fountainbleau to Paris, which is forty-two English miles, in two hours, for one thousand louis d’ors, the king’s guards cleared the way, which was lined with crowds of Parisians. He was to mount only three horses, but he performed the task on two, in one hour, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds. The horses through whom the wager was won, were both killed by the severity of thefeat.[366]

Mean Temperature 53·75.

[365]Gentleman’s Magazine.[366]Ibid.

[365]Gentleman’s Magazine.

[366]Ibid.

On the 3d of October, 1737, a cart-gelding belonging to Mr. Richard Fendall, of the Grange, Southwark, died by an accidental cut in his knee with a garden-mellon bell-glass; which is taken notice of, because this gelding was forty-four years in his possession. It was bought Michaelmas, 1693, at Uxbridge, was never sick nor lame all the time, and within the fifteen years preceding, drew his owner and another in a chaise, fifty miles in oneday.[367]

It is observed that—“Among the miscellaneous events of October, one of the most striking and curious is the interchange which seems to take place between our country, and the more northern as well as the more southern ones, in regard to the birds. The swallow tribe now all quit us: the swift disappeared wholly, more than a month ago; and now the house swallow, house martin, and bank or sand martin, after congregating for awhile in vast flocks about the banks of rivers and other waters, are seen no more as general frequenters of the air. If one or two are seen during the warm days that sometimes occur for the next two or three weeks, they are to be looked upon as strangers and wanderers; and the sight of them, which has hitherto been so pleasant, becomes altogether different in its effect: it gives one a feeling of desolateness, such as we experience on meeting a poor shivering lascar in our winter streets.—In exchange for this tribe of truly summer visiters, we have now great flocks of the fieldfares and redwings come back to us; and also wood pigeons, snipes, woodcocks, and several of the numerous tribe of water-fowl.

“Now, occasionally, we may observe the singular effects of a mist, coming gradually on, and wrapping in its dusky cloak a whole landscape that was, the moment before, clear and bright as in a spring morning. The vapour rises visibly (from the face of a distant river perhaps) like steam from a boiling caldron; and climbing up into the blue air as it advances, rolls wreath over wreath till it reaches the spot on which you are standing; and then, seeming to hurry past you, its edges, which have hitherto been distinctly defined, become no longer visible, and the whole scene of beauty, which a few moments before surrounded you, is as it were wrapt from your sight like an unreal vision of the air, and you seem (and in fact are) transferred into the bosom of acloud.”[368]

A provincialpaper[369]says, “It is a fact, which has not been satisfactorily accounted for by ornithologists, that the number of swallows which visit this island are not near so numerous as they formerly were; and this is the case, not only in this neighbourhood, but throughout the country. The little that is satisfactorily known concerning the parts to which they emigrate, and the many statements respecting their annual migration, not only serves to show that something remains to be discovered respecting these interesting visiters, but perhaps prevents us from ascertaining the causes of the decrease in their numbers. In the month of September, 1815, great numbers of these birds congregated near Rotherham, previous to their departure for a more genial climate. Their appearance was very extraordinary, and attracted much attention. We extract some account of this vast assemblage of the feathered race, from an elegantly written little work, published on the occasion, by the rev. Thomas Blackley, vicar of Rotherham, containing ‘Observations and Reflections’ on thiscircumstance:—

“‘Early in the month of September, 1815, that beautiful and social tribe of the feathered race began to assemble in the neighbourhood of Rotherham, at the Willow-ground, near the Glass-house, preparatory to their migration to a a warmer climate; and their numbers were daily augmented, until they became a vast flock which no man could easily number—thousands upon thousands, tens of thousands, and myriads—so great, indeed, that the spectator would almost have concluded that the whole of the swallow race were there collected in one huge host. It was their manner, while there, to rise from the willows in the morning, a little before six o’clock, when their thick columns literally darkened the sky. Their divisions were formed into four, five, and sometimes six grand wings, each of these filing off and taking a different route—one east, another west, another south, and so on; as if not only to be equally dispersed throughout the country, to provide food for their numerous troops; but also to collect with them whatever of their fellows, or straggling parties, might be still left behind. Just before the respective columns arose, a few birds might be observed first in motion at different points, darting through their massy ranks—these appeared like officers giving the word of command. In the evening, about five o’clock, they began to return to their station, and continued coming in, from all quarters, until nearly dark. It was here that you might see them go through their various aerial evolutions, in many a sportive ring and airy gambol—strengthening their pinions in these playful feats for their long etherial journey; while contentment and cheerfulness reigned in every breast, and was expressed in their evening song by a thousand pleasing twitters from their little throats, as they cut the air and frolicked in the last beams of the setting sun, or lightly skimmed the surface of the glassy pool. The notes of those that had already gained the willows sounded like the murmur of a distant waterfall, or the dying roar of the retreating billow on the sea beach.

“‘The verdant enamel of summer had already given place to the warm and mellow tints of autumn, and the leaves were now fast falling from their branches, while the naked tops of many of the trees appeared—the golden sheaves were safely lodged in the barns, and the reapers had, for this year, shouted their harvest home—frosty and misty mornings now succeeded, the certain presages of the approach of winter. These omens were understood by the swallows as the route for their march; accordingly, on the morning of the 7th of October, their mighty army broke up their encampmentdebouched from their retreat, and, rising, covered the heavens with their legions; thence, directed by an unerring guide, they took their trackless way. On the morning of their going, when they ascended from their temporary abode, they did not, as they had been wont to do, divide into different columns, and take each a different route, but went off in one vast body, bearing to the south. It is said that they would have gone sooner, but for a contrary wind which had some time prevailed; that on the day before they took their departure, the wind got round, and the favourable breeze was immediately embraced by them. On the day of their flight, they left behind them about a hundred of their companions; whether they were slumberers in the camp, and so had missed the going of their troops, or whether they were left as the rear-guard, it is not easy to ascertain; they remained, however, till the next morning, when the greater part of them mounted on their pinions, to follow, as it should seem, the celestial route of their departed legions. After these a few stragglers only remained; these might be too sick or too young to attempt so great an expedition; whether this was the fact or not, they did not remain after the next day. If they did not follow their army, yet the dreary appearance of their depopulated camp and their affection for their kindred, might influence them to attempt it, or to explore a warmer and safer retreat.’”

Mean Temperature 50·00.

[367]Gentleman’s Magazine.[368]Mirror of the Months.[369]Sheffield Mercury.

[367]Gentleman’s Magazine.

[368]Mirror of the Months.

[369]Sheffield Mercury.

On the 4th of October,1749,[370]died at Paris, John Baptist Du Halde, a jesuit, who was secretary to father Le Tellier, confessor to Louis XIV. Du Halde is celebrated for having compiled an elaborate history and geography of China from the accounts of the Romish missionaries in that empire; he was likewise editor of the “Lettres edifiantes et curieuses,” from the ninth to the twenty-sixth collection, and the author of several Latin poems and miscellaneous pieces. He was born in the city wherein he died, in 1674, remarkable for piety, mildness, and patientindustry.[371]

Mean Temperature 54·92.

[370]Gentleman’s Magazine.[371]A General Biographical Dictionary, (Hunt and Clarke,) vol. ii.

[370]Gentleman’s Magazine.

[371]A General Biographical Dictionary, (Hunt and Clarke,) vol. ii.

Mean Temperature 55·12.

Of this saint in the church of England calendar, there is an account in vol. i. col. 1362.

On Sunday evening, the 6th of October, 1823, a lad named George Davis, sixteen and a half years of age, in the service of Mr. Hewson, butcher, of Bridge-road, Lambeth, at about twenty minutes after nine o’clock, bent forward in his chair, and rested his forehead on his hands. In ten minutes he started up, fetched his whip, put on his one spur, and went thence to the stable; not finding his own saddle in the proper place, he returned to the house, and asked for it. Being asked what he wanted with it, he replied, to go his rounds. He returned to the stable, got on the horse without the saddle, and was proceeding to leave the stable; it was with much difficulty and force that Mr. Hewson junior, assisted by the other lad, could remove him from the horse; his strength was great, and it was with difficulty he was brought in doors. Mr. Hewson senior, coming home at this time, sent for Mr. Benjamin Ridge, an eminent practitioner, in Bridge-road, who stood by him for a quarter of an hour, during which time the lad considered himself stopped at the turnpike gate, and took sixpence out of his pocket to be changed; and holding out his hand for the change, the sixpence was returned to him. He immediately observed, “None of your nonsense—that is the sixpence again, give me my change.” When threepence halfpenny was given to him, he counted it over, and said, “None of your gammon; that is not right, I want a penny more;”making the fourpence halfpenny, which was his proper change. He then said, “give me mycastor,” (meaning his hat,) which slang terms he had been in the habit of using, and then began to whip and spur to get his horse on; his pulse at this time was one hundred and thirty-six, full and hard; no change of countenance could be observed, nor any spasmodic affection of the muscles, the eyes remaining close the whole of the time. His coat was taken off his arm, his shirt sleeve stripped up, and Mr. Ridge bled him to thirty-two ounces; no alteration had taken place in him during the first part of the time the blood was flowing; at about twenty-four ounces, the pulse began to decrease; and when the full quantity named above had been taken, it was at eighty, with a slight perspiration on the forehead. During the time of bleeding Mr. Hewson related the circumstance of a Mr. Harris, optician in Holborn, whose son some years before walked out on the parapet of the house in his sleep. The boy joined the conversation, and observed he lived at the corner of Brownlow-street. After the arm was tied up, he unlaced one boot, and said he would go to bed. In three minutes from this time he awoke, got up, and asked what was the matter, (having then been one hour in the trance,) not having the slightest recollection of any thing that had passed, and wondered at his arm being tied up, and at the blood, &c. A strong aperient medicine was then administered, he went to bed, slept sound, and the next day appeared perfectly well, excepting debility from the bleeding and operation of the medicine, and had no recollection whatever of what had taken place. None of his family or himself were ever affected in this waybefore.[372]

The following remarkable letter in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” relates to the present day seventy years ago.

Mr.Urban,Wigton, Oct. 23, 1756.

On the 6th inst. at night, happened a most violent hurricane; such a one perhaps as has not happened in these parts, in the memory of man. It lasted full 4 hours from about 11 till 3. The damage it has done over the whole county is very deplorable. The corn has suffered prodigiously.—Houses were not only unroofed, but in several places overturned by its fury.—Stacks of hay and corn were entirely swept away.—Trees without number torn up by the roots. Others, snapt off in the middle, and scattered in fragments over the neighbouring fields. Some were twisted almost round; bent, or split to the roots, and left in so shattered a condition as cannot be described.

The change in the herbage was also very surprising; its leaveswithered shrivelledup, andturned black. The leaves upon the trees, especially on the weather side, fared in the same manner. TheEvergreensalone seem to have escaped, and the grass recovered in a day or two.

I agreed, at first, with the general opinion, that this mischief was the effect ofLightning; but, when I recollected that, in some places, very little had been taken notice of; in others none at all; and that the effect wasgeneral, I begun to think of accounting for it from some other cause. I immediately examined the dew or rain which had been left on the grass, windows, &c. in hopes of being enabled, byits taste, to form some better judgment of the particles with which the air had been impregnated, and I found it as salt as any sea water I had ever tasted. The several vegetables also were all saltish more or less, and continued so for 5 or 6 days, the saline particles not being then washed off; and when the moisture was exhaled from the windows, the saline chrystalsparkledon the outside, when the sun shined, and appeared verybrilliant.

Thissalt water, I conceive, has done the principal damage, for I find upon experiment, that common salt dissolved in fresh water affected some fresh vegetables, when sprinkled upon them, in the verysame manner, except that it did not turn them quite so black,—but particles of a sulphurous, or otherquality,[373]may have been mixed with it.

I should be glad to see the opinions of some of your ingenious correspondents on this wonderful phenomenon;—whether they think this salt water was brought from thesea,[374]and inwhat manner.

Yours,A. B.

Mean Temperature 54·55.

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