To pass through villages, and catch the hum

Forth bursting from some antiquated school, Endow'd long since by some old knight, whose tomb

Stood in the church just by; to mark the dool

Of light-hair'd lads that inly rued their doom, Prison'd in that old place, that with the tool,

Stick-knife or nail, of many a sly offender, Was carved and figured over, wall, and desk, and window;

To meet in green lanes happy infant bands, Full of health's luxury, sauntering and singing,

A childish, wordless melody; with hands Cowslips, and wind-flowers, and green brook-lime bringing;

Or weaving caps of rushes; or with wands Guiding their mimic teams; or gaily swinging

On some low sweeping bough, and clinging all One to the other fast, till, laughing, down they fail ;

To sit down by some solitary man,

Hoary with years, and with a sage's look, In some wild dell where purest waters ran, And see him draw forth his black-letter book, Wond'ring, and wond'ring more, as he began, On it, and then on many an herb to look, That he had wander'd wearily and wide, To pluck from jutting rocks, and woods, and

mountain side;

moon

Shedding o'er weed and wort her healing power, For gifted wights to cull in her ascendant hour; To lie abroad on nature's lonely breast,

Amidst the music of a summer's sky, Where tall, dark pines the northern bank invest Of a still lake; and see the long pikes lie Basking upon the shallows; with dark crest,

And threat'ning pomp, the swan go sailing by; And many a wild fowl on its breast that shone, Flickering like liquid silver, in the joyous sun:

The duck, deep poring with his downward head, Like a buoy floating on the ocean wave; The Spanish goose, like drops of crystal, shed The water o'er him, his rich plumes to lave; The beautiful widgeon, springing upward, spread

His clapping wings; the heron, stalking

grave,

Into the stream; the coot and water-hen Vanish into the flood, then, far off, rise again;

And when warm summer's holiday was o'er,

And the bright acorns patter'd from the trees, When fires were made, and closed was every door,

And winds were loud, or else a chilling breeze Came comfortless, driving cold fogs before:

On dismal, shivering evenings, such as these, To pass by cottage windows, and to see, Round a bright hearth, sweet faces shining happily;

These were the days of boyhood! Oh! such days Shall never, never more return again— When the fresh heart, all witless of the ways,

The sickening, sordid, selfish ways of men, Danced in creation's pure and placid blaze,

Making an Eden of the loneliest glen! Darkness has follow'd fast, and few have been The rays of sunlight cast upon life's dreary

scene.

For years of lonely thought, in morning-tide
Of life, will make a spirit all unfit
To brook of men the waywardness and pride;
Too proud itself to woo, or to submit;
Scorning, as vile, what all adore beside,

And deeming only glorious the soul lit With the pure flame of knowledge, and the eye Filled with the gentle love of the bright earth and sky.

Fancy's spoil'd child will ever surely be

A thing of nothing in the worldly throng: Wrapp'd up in dreams that they can never see; Listening to fairy harp, or spirit's song, Where all to them is stillest vacancy:

For ever seeking, as he glides along, Some kindred heart, that feels as he has felt, And can read each thought that with him long has dwelt.

But place him midst creation!-let him stand Where wave and mountain revel in his sight, Then shall his soul triumphantly expand,

With gathering power, and majesty, and The world beneath him is the temple plann'd light!

For him to worship in; and, pure and bright, Heaven's vault above, the proud eternal dome Of his Almighty Sire, and his own future home! With such inspiring fancies, mortal pride

Shrinks into nothing; and all mortal things He casts, as weeds cast by the ocean tide, From its embraces; the world's scorn he flings

Back on itself, disdaining to divide,

With its low cares, that sensitive spirit that brings

Home to his breast all nature's light and glee, Holding with sunshine, clouds, and gales, unearthly revelry.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 54 · 17.

season 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 as natural in 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 hollyberries.-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 new

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,

This is the season of holding a remarkable court, which we are pleasantly introduced to by the relation of a good old writer.*

"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 without any kinde of light, saue such as in the night, upon the first cock crowing 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 following ac

count:

they hear

And 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,

• Mirror of the Months.

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 of Ralegh, and to the Earl of Warwick; and is called Lawless,' because held at an unlawful or lawless hour, or Quia dicta sine lege. The Title of it in the Court Rolls, runs thus,

• Fuller.

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 pœnituerint,
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 Sancti Mi-
chaelis Arch-angeli, Anno regni
Regis," &c.

This Court is mentioned in Cam. Britan, though imperfectly; who says this servile attendance was imposed on the Tenants, for conspiring at the like unseasonable

time to raise a Commotion.*

ORDER OF FOOLS.

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 as follows:—

To this document are affixed thirty-six seals, all imprinted on green wax, with the exception of that of the founder, which js 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

Cowel. Blount.

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 harlequinwise 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 characters in the ablest manner, contrioccasions, and those who supported their of the meeting. Indeed we cannot but buted most to the conviviality and gaiety when we recur to the excellent regulations be strongly prepossessed in its favour, which accompanied its institution, and were admirably calculated to preserve it, at least for a great length of time, from degenerating into absurdity and extra

vagance.

establishment with the vulgar and absurd We must not confound this laudable practices which, till of late years, existed of fools and of the ass, &c. These were in many places under the names of feasts 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 illí