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while each of the London publishers is to the mantiepiece. “ Ab-take care. projecting a new periodical, to appear You see what that old looking saucer is, on the first of January next; that which with a handle to it? It is a venerable he started on the first of last January piece of earthenware, which may have having, of course, died of old age ere been worth, to an Athenian, about twothis !"

pence; but to an author, is worth a great

deal more than ever he could-deny for
BEGINNING OF
« FIRES.”

it. And yet he would deny it too. It

will felch his imagination more than ever In October, fires have fairly gained it fetched potter or penny-maker. Its possession of their places, and even greet little shallow circle overflows for him with us on coming down to breakfast in the the milk and honey of a thousand pleamorning. Of all the discomforts of that sant associations. This is one of the uses most comfortless period of the London of having mantlepieces. You may often year which is neither winter nor summer, see on no very rich mantlepiece a reprethe most unequivocal is that of its being sentative body of all the elements, phytoo cold to be without a fire, and not cold sical and intellectual,-a shell for the sea, enough to have one. A set of polished a stuffed bird or some feathers for the air, fire-irons, standing sentry beside a pile a curious piece of mineral for the earth, a of dead coals imprisoned behind a row glass of water with some flowers in it for of glittering bars, instead of mending the visible process of creation,-a cast from the matter, makes it worse ; inasmuch as sculpture for the mind of man;—and unit is better to look into an empty coffin, derneath all, is the bright and ever-springthan to see the dead face of a friend in it. ing fire, running up through them heavenAt the season in question, especially in wards, like hope through materiality.” the evening, one feels in a perpetual per. plexity, whether to go out or stay at home; NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. sit down or walk about; read, write, cast Mean Temperature ... 46. 02. accounts, or call for the candle and go to bed. But let the fire be lighted, and all

October 30. uncertainty is at an end, and we (or even one) may do any or all of these with equal YEOMEN OF THE GUARD. satisfaction. In short, light but the fire, On this day in the year 1485, when and you bring the winter in at once; and king Henry VII. was crowned at West. what are twenty summers, with all their minster, he instituted the body of royal sunshine (when they are gone,) to one attendants, called geomen of the guard, winter, with its indoor sunshine of a sea- who in later times acquired the appelcoal fire ?*

lation of “ beef-eaters.'

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mr Leigh Hunt, who on the affairs of « The Months” is our first authority, plea

Mean Temperature ... 47. 17. santly inquires_“With our fire before us, and our books on each side, what shall

October 31 we do? Shall we take out a life of some

HALLOW Eve. body, or a Theocritus, or Dante, or Ariosto, or Montaigne, or Marcus Aure The superstitious observances of this lius, or Horace, or Shakspeare who in- night, described in the former volume, cludes thein all? Or shall we read an are fast disappearing. In some places engraving from Poussin or Raphael? Or where young people were acustomed to shall we sit with tilted chairs, planting meet for purposes of divination, and freour wrists upon our knees, and toasting quently frighten each other into fits, as the up-turned palms of our hands, while of ancient custom, they have little regard we discourse of manners and of man's to the old usages.

The meetings en heart and hopes, with at least a sincerity, Hallow-eve are becoming pleasant merry. a good intention, and good nature, that makings; the dance prevails till supper. shall warrant what we say with the sin- time, when they take a cheerful glass cere, the good-intentioned, and the good and drink to their next happy meeting. natured ?"_He then agreeably brings us

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. • Mirror of the Months.

Mean Temperature. .. 47. 62.

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NOVEMBER.
And, when November came, there fell
Another limning in, to tell
The month's employment; which we see
Providance was, for time to be.
Now was the last loud squeaking roar
Of many a mighty forest boar,
Whose head, when came the Christmas days,
Was crown'd with rosemary and bays,
And so brought in, with shoutings long,

And minstrelsy, and choral song. We can now perceive the departure of under the agreeable alias of autumn, in " that delightful annual guest, the summer, whose presence we have lately been

comer.

if they please, or if they can.' But if they straw; and the cattle, all their summer

luxuriating. We might, perhaps, by a

THE WOODMAN. little gentle violence, prevail upon her to

Far removed from noise and smoke, stay with us for a brief space longer; or Hark! I hear the woodman's stroke, might at least prevail upon ourselves to Who dreams not as he fells the oak, helieve that she is not quite gone. But What mischief dire he brews; we shall do better by speeding her on her

How art may shape his falling trees, way to other climes, and welcoming the

In aid of luxury and ease : coming guest,' gray-haired winter :"

He weighs not matters such as these, nor can we do better at this moment than

But sings, and hacks, and hews. take “ note of preparation,” for a grateful adieu to the year and welcome to the Perhaps, now fell’d by this bold man,

That tree may form the spruce sedan; On ushering in the winter we recur to

Or wheelbarrow, where oyster Nan the “Mirror of the Months," from whence

Oft runs her vulgar rig ; we have derived so many delightful re

The stage, where boxers crowd in Hocks; flections, and take a few“ looks" in it, Or else a quack's ; perhaps, the stocks ; for, perhaps, the last time. At this season Or posts for signs; or barber's blocks, last year it presented to us the evergreens, Where smiles the parson's wig. and now, with a “ now," we select other

Thou mak'st, bold peasant, oh what grief ! appearances.

The gibbet on which hangs the thief,

The seat where sits the grave lord chief, Now-as the branches become bare, The throne, the cobler's stall. another sight presents itself, which,

Thou pamper'st life in ev'ry stage, trifling as it is, fixes the attention of all

Mak'st folly's whims, pride's equipage ; who see it. I mean the birds' nests that are

For children, toys; crutches, for age; seen here and there in the now transpa And coffins for us all. c. Pribdin. rent hedges, bushes, and copses. It is not difficult to conceive why this sight should make the heart of the schoolboy

Thebusy flail,too, which is now in leap with an imaginative joy, as it brings

full employment, fills the air about the before his eyes visions of five blue eggs invites the passer-by to look in at the

homestead with a pleasant sound, and lying sweetly beside each other, on a bed of moss and feathers; or as many gaping

great open doors of the barn, and see the bills lifting themselves from out what hand; the little pyramid of bright grain

wheatstack reaching to the roof on either seems one callow body. But we are, behind the threshers; the scattered ears unhappily, not all schoolboys; and it is between them, leaping and rustling beto be hoped not many of us ever have neath their fast-falling

strokes ; and the Aail been bird-nesting ones. And yet we all itself flying harmless round the labourers' look upon this sight with a momentary heads, though seeming to threaten danger interest, that few other so indifferent objects are capable of exciting. The wise

at every tuin; while, outside, the flock of may condescend to explain this interest, search for food, among the knee-deep

« barn-door” poultry ply their ceaseless do, it will be for their own satisfaction, frolics forgotten, stand ruminating beside

content to be pleased, without insisting on penetrating inquiring faces over the gate that looks

the half-empty hay-rack, or lean with into the cause of our pleasure.

down into the village, or away towards

the distant pastures. Now, the felling of wood for the winter store commences; and, in a mild still day, the measured strokes of the wood.

Of the birds that have hitherto made man's axe, heard far away in the thick merry even at the approach of winter, forest, bring with their sound an associ

now all are silent; all, save that one who ated feeling, similar to that produced by now earns his title of “the household a wreath of smoke rising from out the bird,” by haunting the thresholds and

window-cills, and casting sidelong glances same scene: they tell us a tale of

in-doors, as if to reconnoitre the positions “Uncertain dwellers in the pathless wood." of all within, before the pinching frosts

force him to lay aside his fears, and fit

not

ours, who

are

in and out, silently, like a winged spirit. Now, cold rains come deluging down, All are now silent except him ; but he, till the drenched ground, the dripping as he sits on the pointed palings beside trees, the pouring eaves, and the torn the door-way, or on the topmost twig of ragged-skirted clouds, seemingly dragged the little black thorn that has been left downward slantwise by the threads of growing in the otherwise closely-clipt dusky rain that descend from them, are hedge, pipes plaintive ditties with a low all mingled together in one blind confuinvard' voice-like that of a love-tainted sion; while the few cattle that are left in maiden, as she sits apart from her com- the open pastures, forgetful of their till panions, and sings soft melodies to herself, now interminable business of feeding, almost without knowing it.

turn their backs upon the besieging storm, and hanging down their heads till

their noses almost touch the ground, Some of the other small birds that win. stand out in the middle of the fields ter with us, but have hitherto kept aloof motionless, like dead images. from our dwellings, now approach them, Now, too, a single rain-storm, like the and mope about among the house-spar- above, breaks up all the paths and ways rows, on the bare branches, wondering at once, and makes t.Cine no longer what has become of all the leaves, and “ home" to those who are not obliged to not knowing one tree from another. Of leave it; while, en revance, it becomes these the chief are, the hedge-sparrow, the doubly endeared to those who are.. blue titmouse, and the linnet. These also, together with the goldfinch, thrush, blackbird, &c. may still be seen rifling London is so perfect an antithesis to the hip and haw grown hedges of their the country in all things, that whatever is scanty fruit. Almost all, however, even good for the one is bad for the other. of those singing-birds that do not migrate, Accordingly, as the country half forgets except the red breast, wren, hedge-spars itself this month, so London just begins row, and titmouse, disappear shortly after to know itself again. Its streets revive the commencement of this month, and go from their late suspended cnimation, and no one knows whither. But the pertare alive with anxious faces and musical house-sparrow keeps possession of the with the mingled sounds of many wheels. garden and courtyard all the winter ; Now, the shops begin to sbine out with and the different species of wagtails may their new winter wares; though as yet be seen busily haunting the clear cold the chief profits of their owners depend spring-heads, and wading into the un on disposing of the “summer stock," at frozen water in search of their delicate fifty per cent, under prirne cost. food, consisting of insects in the aurelia Now, the theatres, admonished by their state.

no longer empty benchies, try which shall i be the first to break through that hollow

truce on the strength of which they have Now, the farmer finishes all his out-of- hitherto been acting only on alternate door work before the frosts set in, and ' nights. lays by his implements till the awakening

Now, during the first week, the citizens of spring calls him to his hand-labour see visions and dream dreams, the buragain.

thens of which are barons of beef; and Now, the sheep, all their other more the first eight days are passed in a state natural food failing, begin to be penned of pleasing perplexity, touching their on patches of the turnip-field, where they chance of a ticket for the lord mayor's first devour the green lops joyfully, and dinner on the ninth. then gradually hollow out the juicy root, Now, all the little boys give thanks in holding it firm with their feet, till nothing their secret hearts to Guy Faux, for bavis left but the dry brown husk.

ing attempted to burn "the parliament" Now, the herds stand all day long with “

gunpowder, treason, and plot,” hanging their disconsolate heads beside since the said attempt gives them occathe leafless hedges, and waiting as anxi- sion to burn every thing they can lay ously, but as patiently too, to be called their hands on their own fingers inhome to the hay-fed stall, as they do in cluded : a bonfire being, in the eyes of summer to be driven afield.

an English schoolboy, the true “ beaute. ous and sublime of human life.”

a worse.

ODB TO WINTER.

the inner side of the church-walls as we

still see them in many parishes. By a Gentleman of Cambridge.

Her majesty having attended worship From mountains of eternal snow,

“ went straight to the vestry, and applyAnd Zembla's dreary plains ;

ing herself to the dean, thus she spoke to Where the bleak winds for ever blow

him.” And frost for ever reigns,

Q. Mr. Dean, how came it to pass

that a new service-book was placed on Lo! Winter comes, in fogs array'd,

my cushion ?
With ice, and spangled dews;

To which the dean answered :
To dews, and fogs, and storms be paid
The tribute of the Muse.

D. May it please your majesty, I

caused it to be placed there. Each flowery carpet Nature spread

Then said the queen :
Is vanish'd from the eye ;

Q. Wherefore did you so ?
Where'er unhappy lovers tread,

D. To present your majesty with a No Philomel is nigh.

new-year's gift.

Q. You could never present me with (For well I ween her plaintive note,

Can soothing ease impart;
The little warblings of her throat

D. Why so, madam ?
Relieve the wounded heart.)

Q. You know I have an aversion to

idolatry and pictures of this kind. No blushing rose unfolds its bloom,

D. "Wherein is the idolatry, may it No tender lilies blow,

please your majesty ? To scent the air with rich perfume,

Q. In the cuts resembling angels and Or grace Lucinda's brow.

saints ; nay, grosser absurdities, pictures Th' indulgent Father who protects resembling the blessed Trinity. The wretched and the poor ;

D. I meant no harm : nor did I think With the same gracious care directs it would offend your majesty when I inThe sparrow to our door.

tended it for a new-year's gift. Dark, scowling tempests rend the skies,

Q. You must needs be ignorant then. And clouds obscure the day;

Have you forgot our proclamation against His genial warmth the sun denies,

images, pictures, and Romish relics in And sheds a fainter ray.

churches? Was it not read in your

deanery? Yet blame we not the troubled air,

D. It was read. But be your maOr seek defects to find; For Power Omnipotent is there,

jesty assured, I meant no harm, when I

caused the cuts to be bound with the serAnd 'walks upon the wind.'

vice-book. Hail ! every pair whom love unites

Q. You must needs be very ignorant, In wedlock's pleasing ties;

to do this after our prohibition of them. That endless source of pure delights,

D. It being my ignorance, your maThat blessing to the wise!

jesty may the better pardon me. Though yon pale orb no warmth bestows,

Q. I am sorry for it : yet glad to hear And storms united meet.

it was your ignorance, rather than your The flame of love and friendship glows

opinion. With unextinguish'd heat,

D. Be your majesty assured it was my ignorance.

Q. If so, Mr. Dean, God grant you November 1.

his Spirit, and more wisdom for the fu

ture. All Saints.

D. Amen, I pray

God.
INSCRIPTIONS IN CHURCHES.

Q. I pray, Mr. Dean, how came you

by these pictures ?—Who engraved them? A remarkable colloquy between queen D. I know not who engraved them, Elizabeth and dean Nowell at St. Paul's I bought them. cathedral on the 1st of November, 1561, Q. From whom bought you them? is said to have originated the usage of in D. From a German. scribing texts of scripture in English on Q. It is well it was from a stranger.

Had it been any of our subjects, we should • Sce vol. I, col. 1421.

- have questioned the matter. Pray let no

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