With timid steps, till, by the music cheered, Meanwhile the frothing bickers, soon as filled, In the island of Minorca, "Their harvests are generally gathered by the middle of June; and, as the corn ripens, a number of boys and girls station themselves at the edges of the fields, and on the tops of the fence-walls, to fright away the small birds with their shouts and cries. This puts one in mind of Virgil's precept in the first book of his 'Georgics,' Et sonitu terrebis aves,' and was a custom, I doubt not, among the Roman farmers, from whom the ancient Minorquins learned it. They also use for the same purpose, a split reed, which makes a horrid rattling, as they shake it with their hands." In Northamptonshire, "within the liberty of Warkworth is Ashe Meadow, divided amongst the neighbouring parishes, and famed for the following customs observed in the mowing of it. The meadow is divided into fifteen portions, answering to fifteen lots, which are pieces of wood cut off from an arrow, and marked according to the landmarks in the field. To each lot are allowed eight mowers, amounting to one hundred and twenty in the whole. On the Saturday sevennight after midsummer-day, these portions are laid out by six persons, of whom two are chosen from Warkworth, two from Over • Beakers. Grahame. thorp, one from Grimsbury, and one from Nethercote. These are called field-men. and have an entertainment provided for them upon the day of laying out the meadow, at the appointment of the lord of the manor. As soon as the meadow is measured, the man who provides the feast, attended by the hay-ward of Warkworth, brings into the field three gallons of ale. After this the meadow is run, as they term it, or trod, to distinguish the lots and, when this is over, the hay-ward brings into the field a rump of beef, six penny loaves, and three gallons of ale, and is allowed a certain portion of hay in return, though not of equal value with his provision. This hay-ward and the master of the feast have the name of crocus-men. In running the field each man hath a boy allowed to assist him. On Monday morning lots are drawn, consisting some of eight swaths and others of four. Of these the first and last carry the garlands. The two first lots are of four swaths, and whilst these are mowing, the mowers go double; and, as soon as these are finished, the following orders are read aloud :- Oyez, Oyez, Oyez, I charge you, under God, and in his majesty's name, that you keep the king's peace in the lord of the manor's behalf, according to the orders and cus. toms of this meadow. No man or men shall go before the two garlands; if you † Wooden frames on which beer casks are set.-Johnson. ao, you shall pay your penny, or deliver your scythe at the first demand, and this so often as you shall transgress. No man, or men, shall mow above eight swaths over their lots, before they lay down their scythes and go to breakfast. No man, or men, shall mow any farther than Monksholm-brook, but leave their scythes there, and go to dinner; according to the custom and manner of this manor. God save the king!' The dinner, provided by the lord of the manor's tenant, consists of three cheesecakes, three cakes, and a newmilk cheese. The cakes and cheesecakes are of the size of a winnowing-sieve; and the person who brings them is to have three gallons of ale. The master of the feast is paid in hay, and is farther allowed to turn all his cows into the meadow on Saturday morning till eleven c'clock; that by this means giving the more milk the cakes may be made the bigger. Other like customs are observed in the mowing other meadows in this parish."* Harvest time is as delightful to look on to us, who are mere spectators of it, as it was in the golden age, when the gatherers and the rejoicers were one. Now, therefore, as then, the fields are all alive with figures and groups, that seem, in the eye of the artist, to be made for pictures-pictures that he can see but one fault in; (which fault, by the by, constitutes their only beauty in the eye of the farmer;) namely, that they will not • Bridges' Northamptonshire. stand still a moment, for him to paint them. He must therefore be content, as we are, to keep them as studies in the storehouse of his memory. Here are a few of those studies, which he may practise upon till doomsday, and will not then be able to produce half the effect from them that will arise spontaneously on the imagination, at the mere mention of the simplest words which can describe them:-The sunburnt reapers, entering the field leisurely at early morning, with their reaphooks resting on their right shoulders, and their beer-kegs swinging to their left hands, while they pause for a while to look about them before they begin their work. The same, when they are scattered over the field: some stooping to the ground over the prostrate corn, others lifting up the heavy sheaves and supporting them against one another while the rest are plying their busy sickles, before which the brave crop seems to retreat reluctantly, like a half-defeated army. Again, the same collected together into one group, and resting to refresh themselves, while the lightening keg passes from one to another silently, and the rude clasp-knife lifts the coarse meal to the ruddy lips. Lastly, the piledup wain, moving along heavily among the lessening sheaves, and swaying from side to side as it moves; while a few, whose share of the work is already done, lie about here and there in the shade, and watch the near completion of it.* • Mirror of the Months. KENTISH HOP PICKING. The bellying bin, and cleanest cull the hops. Of shade and fragrance-Then th' exulting band Smart. The harvest-men ring Summer out With thankful song, and joyous shout; And, when September comes, they hail The Autumn with the flapping flail. "gerst This besides being named monat" by the Anglo-Saxons, they also called haligemonath, or the holymonth," from an ancient festival 60 held at * See vol. i, p. 1147. A Saxon meno it under tween this season of the year. logy, or register of the months, (in Wanley's addition to Hickes,) mentions that denomination, and gives its derivation in words which are thus literally translated "haligemonath-for that our forefathers, the while they heathens were, on this month celebrated their devil-gild." To inquire concerning an exposition which appears so much at variance with this old name, is less requisite than to take a calm survey of the month itself. 1 at my window sit, and see Autumn his russet fingers lay On every leaf of every tree; I call, but summer will not stay She flies, the boasting goddess flies, And, pointing where espaliers shoot, Deserve my parting gift, she cries, I take the leaves, but not the fruit. Still, at this season The rainbow comes and goes, The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night The sunshine is a glorious birth ; But yet we know, where'er we go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. "I am sorry to mention it," says the author of the Mirror of the Months, "but the truth must be told even in a matter of age. The year then is on the wane. It is declining into the vale' of months. It has reached a certain age.'-It has reached the summit of the hill, and is not only looking, but descending, into the valley below. But, unlike that into which the life of man declines, this is not a vale of tears; still less does it, like that, lead to that inevitable bourne, the kingdom of the grave. For though it may be called (I hope without the semblance of profanation) 'the valley of the shadow of death, yet of death itself it knows nothing. No-the year steps onward towards its temporary decay, if not so rejoicingly, even more majestically and gracefully, than it does towards its revivification. beauty. Those of more southern countries may, perhaps, match or even surpass them, for a certain glowing and unbroken intensity. But for gorgeous variety of form and colour, exquisite delicacy of tint and pencilling, and a certain placid sweetness and tenderness of general effect, which frequently arises out of a union of the two latter, there is nothing to be seen like what we can show in England at this season of the year. If a painter, who was capable of doing it to the utmost perfection, were to dare depict on canvas one out of twenty of the sunsets that we frequently have during this month, he would be laughed at for his pains. And the reason is, that people judge of pictures by pictures. They compare Hobbima with Ruysdael, and Ruysdael with Wynants, and Wynants with Wouvermans, and Wouvermans with Potter, and Potter with Cuyp; and then they think the affair can proceed no farther. And the chances are, that if you were to show one of the sunsets in question to a thorough-paced connoisseur in this department of fine art, he would reply, that it was very beautiful, to be sure, but that he must beg to doubt whether it was natural, for he had never seen one like it in any of the old masters!" In the "Poetical Calendar" there is the following address " to Mr. Hayman," probably Francis Hayman, the painter of Vauxhall-gardens, who is known to us all, through early editions of several of our good authors, "with copper-plates, designed by Mr. Hayman." AN AUTUMNAL ODE. Yet once more, glorious God of day, And if September is not so bright with The cold inclemency of winter cheer, And make th' autumnal months the mildest month of consummations-the fulfiller of all promises-the fruition of all hopesthe era of all completeness. "The sunsets of September in this country are perhaps unrivalled, for their infinite variety, and their indescribable 'Ere yet the russet foliage fall I'll climb the mountain's brow, To view the scene below: How sweetly pleasing to behold How mix'd the many chequer'd shades be The tawny, mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green! How splendid all the sky' how still' How mild the dying gale! How soft the whispers of the rill, That winds along the vale! So tranquil nature's works appear, As if, the summer's labour past, she chose This season's sober calm for blandishing repose. Such is of well-spent life the time His flowery spring of pleasures o'er, He gains pacific autumn, mild and bland, palsied hand. For yet a while, a little while, Then shall he shine, a glorious guest, It is remarked by the gentleman-usher of the year, that "the fruit garden is one scene of tempting profusion. "Against the wall, the grapes have put on that transparent look which indicates their complete ripeness, and have dressed their cheeks in that delicate bloom which enables them to bear away the bell of beauty from all their rivals. The peaches and nectarines have become fragrant, and the whole wall where they hang is musical with bees.' Along the espaliers, the rosy-cheeked apples look out from among their leaves, like laughing children peeping at each other through screens of foliage; and the young standards bend their straggling boughs to the earth with the weight of their produce. "Let us not forget to add, that there is one part of London which is never out of season, and is never more in season than now. Covent-garden market is still the garden of gardens; and as there is not a 'nonth in all the year in which it does not contrive to belie something or other that has been said in the foregoing pages, as to the particular season of certain flowers, fruits, &c., so now it offers the flowers and the fruits of every season united. How it becomes possessed of all these, I shall not pretend to say: but thus much I am bound to add by way of " The observer of nature, where nature can alone be fully enjoyed, will perceive, that, in this month, among the birds, we have something like a renewal of the spring melodies. In particular, the thrush and blackbird, who have been silent for several weeks, recommence their songs,bidding good bye to the summer, in the same subdued tone in which they hailed her approach-wood-owls hoot louder than ever; and the lambs bleat shrilly from the hill-side to their neglectful dams; and the thresher's flail is heard from the unseen barn; and the plough-boy's whistle comes through the silent air from the distant upland; and snakes leave their last year's skins in the brakes-literally creeping out at their own mouths; and acorns drop in showers from the oaks, at every wind that blows; and hazel-nuts ask to be plucked, so invitingly do they look forth from their green dwellings; and, lastly, the evenings close in too quickly upon the walks to which their serene beauty invites us, and the mornings get chilly, misty, and damp." Finally, "another singular sight belonging to this period, is the occasional showers of gossamer that fall from the upper regions of the air, and cover every thing like a veil of woven silver. You may see them descending through the sunshine, and glittering and flickering in it, like rays of another kind of light. Or if you are in time to observe them before the sun has dried the dew from off them in the early morning, they look like robes of fairy tissue-work, gemmed with innumerable jewels."t SEPTEMBER. An Ode. Farewell the pomp of Flora! vivid scene! • Mirror of the Monthe ↑ Ibid. |