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 Another Random Document on
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you will not forget poor Old Kate, deserted as she is by those whose
duty it was to have supported her.
I remain,
Your obedient servant,
A Native of the Precinct.
P.S. There is no more occasion for these docks than for one at
the foot of Ludgate-hill.

The purpose of this correspondent may be answered, perhaps,

by publishing his well-founded lamentation over the final dissolution
of his church; his call upon me could not be declined. I did not get
his note till the very hour that the service was commencing, and
hurried from Ludgate-hill to the ancient “collegiate church of St.
Katharine’s by the Tower,” where I arrived just before the conclusion
of prayers. Numbers unable to get accommodation among the crowd
within, were coming from the place; but “where there’s a will there’s
a way,” and I contrived to gain a passage to the chancel, and was
ultimately conducted to a seat in a pew just as the rev. R. R. Bailey,
resident chaplain of the tower, ascended the curious old pulpit of this
remarkable structure. This gentleman, whose “History of the Tower”
is well known to topographers and antiquaries, appropriately
selected for his text, “Go to now, ye that say, to-day or to-morrow
we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and
sell and get gain.” (James iv. 13.) He discoursed of the frailty of
man’s purpose, and the insecurity of his institutions, and enjoined
hope and reliance on Him whose order ordained and preserves the
world in its mutations. He spoke of the “unfeeling and encroaching
hand of commerce,” which had rudely seized on the venerable fabric,
wherein no more shall be said—
“Lord, how delightful ’tis to see,
A whole assembly worship thee.”
To some of the many present the building was endeared by
locality, and its burial ground was sacred earth. Yet from thence the
bones of their kindred were to be expelled, and the foundations of
the edifice swept away. For eight centuries the site had been
undisturbed, save for the reception of the departed from the world—
for him whose friends claimed that there “the servant should be free
from his master,” or for the opulent, who, in his end, was needy as
the needy, and required only “a little, little grave.” Yet the very
chambers of the dead were to be razed, and the remains of mortality
dispersed, and a standing water was to be in their stead. The
preacher, in sad remembrance, briefly, but strongly, touched on the
coming demolition of the fane, and there were those among the
congregation who deeply sorrowed. On the features of an elderly
inhabitant opposite to me, there was a convulsive twitching, while,
with his head thrown back, he watched the preacher’s lips, and the
big tear sprung from his eyes; and the partner of his long life leaned
forward and wept; the bosoms of their daughters rose and fell in
grief; matrons and virgins sobbed; manly hearts were swollen, and
strong men were bowed.
After the sermon “sixty poor children of the precinct,” for whose
benefit it was preached—it was the last office that could be
celebrated there in their behalf—sung a hymn to the magnificent
organ, which, on the morrow, was to be pulled down. They choralled
in tender tones—
“Great God, O! hear our humble song,
An off’ring to thy praise,
O! guard our tender youth from wrong,
And keep us in thy ways!”
These were the offspring of a neighbourhood of ill fame, whence,
by liberal hands, they had been plucked and preserved as brands
from the burning fire. It seemed as though they were about to be
scattered from the fold wherein they had been folded and kept.
While the destruction of this edifice was contemplated, the
purpose gave rise to remonstrance; but resistance was quelled by
the applications, which are usually successful in such cases. “An
Earnest Appeal to the Lords and Commons in Parliament, by a
Clergyman,” was ineffectually printed and circulated with the hope of
preventing the act. This little tract says:—
 “The collegiate body to whom the church and precinct pertain,
and who have not always been so insensible to the nobler principles
they now abandon, owe their origin to Maud, wife of king Stephen—
their present constitution to Eleanor, wife of king Henry III.—and
their exemption from the general dissolution in the time of Henry
VIII. to the attractions (it is said) of Anne Boleyn. The queens’
consort have from the first been patronesses, and on a vacancy of
the crown matrimonial, the kings of England. The fabric for which, in
default of its retained advocates, I have ventured now to plead, is of
the age of king Edward III., lofty and well-proportioned, rich in
ancient carving, adorned with effigies of a Holland, a Stafford, a
Montacute, all allied to the blood royal, and in spite of successive
mutilations is well able to plead for itself: surely then, for its own
sake, as well as for the general interests involved in its preservation,
it is not too much to ask, that it may, at least, be confronted with
those who wish its destruction—that its obscure location may not
cause its condemnation unseen—that no one will pass sentence who
has not visited the spot, and that, having so done, he will suffer the
unbiassed dictates of his own heart to decide.”

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Mixen Agaric. Agaricus fimetarius.

Dedicated to St. Marcellus.

October 31.
St. Quintin, A. D. 287. St. Wolfgang, Bp. of Ratisbon, A. D.
994. St. Foillan, A. D. 655.

ALLHALLOW EVEN;
or,
HALLOW E’EN.
 Respecting this, which is the vigil of All Saints-day, Mr. Brand has
collected many notices of customs; to him therefore we are indebted
for the following particulars:—
On this night young people in the north of England dive for
apples, or catch at them, when stuck upon one end of a kind of
hanging beam, at the other extremity of which is fixed a lighted
candle. This they do with their mouths only, their hands being tied
behind their backs. From the custom of flinging nuts into the fire, or
cracking them with their teeth, it has likewise obtained the name of
nutcrack night. In an ancient illuminated missal in Mr. Douce’s
collection, a person is represented balancing himself upon a pole laid
across two stools; at the end of the pole is a lighted candle, from
which he is endeavouring to light another in his hand, at the risk of
tumbling into a tub of water placed under him. A writer, about a
century ago, says, “This is the last day of October, and the birth of
this packet is partly owing to the affair of this night. I am alone; but
the servants having demanded apples, ale, and nuts, I took the
opportunity of running back my own annals of Allhallows Eve; for
you are to know, my lord, that I have been a mere adept, a most
famous artist, both in the college and country, on occasion of this
anile, chimerical solemnity.”[365]
Pennant says, that the young women in Scotland determine the
figure and size of their husbands by drawing cabbages blind-fold on
Allhallow Even, and, like the English, fling nuts into the fire. It is
mentioned by Burns, in a note to his poem on “Hallow E’en,” that
“The first ceremony of Hallow E’en is pulling each a stock or plant of
kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the
first they meet with. Its being big or little, straight or crooked, is
prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells
—the husband or wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the root, that is
tocher, or fortune; and the taste of the custoc, that is the heart of
the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly,
the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, are
placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the christian
names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are,
according to the priority of placing the runts, the names in question.”
It appears that the Welsh have “a play in which the youth of both
sexes seek for an even-leaved sprig of the ash: and the first of either
sex that finds one, calls out Cyniver, and is answered by the first of
the other that succeeds; and these two, if the omen fails not, are to
be joined in wedlock.”[366]
Burns says, that “Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They
name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the
fire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from
beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.” It
is to be noted, that in Ireland, when the young women would know
if their lovers are faithful, they put three nuts upon the bars of the
grates, naming the nuts after the lovers. If a nut cracks or jumps,
the lover will prove unfaithful; if it begins to blaze or burn, he has a
regard for the person making the trial. If the nuts, named after the
girl and her lover, burn together, they will be married. This sort of
divination is also in some parts of England at this time. Gay
mentions it in his “Spell:”—
“Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame,
And to each nut I gave a sweet-heart’s name:
This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz’d,
That in a flame of brightest colour blaz’d;
As blaz’d the nut, so may thy passion grow,
For t’was thy nut that did so brightly glow!”
There are some lines by Charles Graydon, Esq.—“On Nuts
burning, Allhallows Eve.”
“These glowing nuts are emblems true
Of what in human life we view;
The ill-match’d couple fret and fume,
And thus, in strife themselves consume,
Or, from each other wildly start,
And with a noise for ever part.
But see the happy happy pair,
Of genuine love and truth sincere;
With mutual fondness, while they burn,
Still to each other kindly turn:
And as the vital sparks decay
Together gently sink away:
Till life’s fierce ordeal being past.
 Their mingled ashes rest at last.”[367]
Burns says, “the passion of prying into futurity makes a striking
part of the history of human nature, in its rude state, in all ages and
nations; and it maybe some entertainment to a philosophic mind to
see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.” He
gives, therefore, the principal charms and spells of this night among
the peasantry in the west of Scotland. One of these by young
women, is, by pulling stalks of corn. “They go to the barn yard, and
pull, each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk
wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the
party in question will come to the marriage bed any thing but a
maid.” Another is by the blue clue. “Whoever would, with success,
try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: steal out, all
alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clew of blue
yarn; wind it in a new clew off the old one; and, towards the latter
end, something will hold the thread; demand, ‘wha hauds?’ i. e. who
holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the
christian and surname of your future spouse.” A third charm is by
eating an apple at a glass. “Take a candle and go alone to a looking-
glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should
comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion to
be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.”
In an appendix to the late Mr. “Pennant’s Tour,” several other very
observable and perfectly new customs of divination on this night are
enumerated. One is to “steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of
hemp-seed, harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw
after you. Repeat, now and then, ‘hemp-seed I saw thee, hemp-seed
I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true, come after me
and pou thee.’ Look over your left shoulder and you will see the
appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp.
Some traditions say, ‘come after me and shaw thee,’ that is, show
thyself; in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing,
and say, ‘come after me and harrow thee.’”
Another is, “to winn three wechts o’naething.” The wecht is the
instrument used in winnowing corn. “This charm must likewise be
performed unperceived and alone. You go to the barn and open both
doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible: for there is danger
that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors and do you
some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the
corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht, and go through
all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it
three times; and, the third time, an apparition will pass through the
barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the
figure in question, and the appearance or retinue marking the
employment or station in life.”
Then there is “to fathom the stack three times.” “Take an
opportunity of going unnoticed to a bear stack (barley stack), and
fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you
will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal
yokefellow.” Another, “to dip your left shirt sleeve in a burn where
three lairds’ lands meet.” “You go out, one or more, for this is a
social spell, to a south-running spring or rivulet, where ‘three lairds’
lands meet,’ and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a
fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some
time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the
grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry
the other side of it.”
The last is a singular species of divination “with three luggies, or
dishes.” “Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in
another, and leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him
to the hearth where the dishes are ranged: he (or she) dips the left
hand, if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will
come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in
the empty dish, it foretells with equal certainty no marriage at all. It
is repeated three times: and every time the arrangement of the
dishes is altered.” Sir Frederick Morton Eden says, that “Sowens,
with butter instead of milk, is not only the Hallow E’en supper, but
the Christmas and New-year’s-day’s breakfast, in many parts of
Scotland.”[368]
In the province of Moray, in Scotland, “A solemnity was kept on
the eve of the first of November as a thanksgiving for the safe in-
gathering of the produce of the fields. This I am told, but have not
seen; it is observed in Buchan and other countries, by having Hallow
Eve fire kindled on some rising ground.”[369]
In Ireland fires were anciently lighted up on the four great
festivals of the Druids, but at this time they have dropped the fire of
November, and substituted candles. The Welsh still retain the fire of
November, but can give no reason for the illumination.[370]
The minister of Logierait, in Perthshire, describing that parish,
says: “On the evening of the 31st of October, O. S., among many
others, one remarkable ceremony is observed. Heath, broom, and
dressings of flax, are tied upon a pole. This faggot is then kindled.
One takes it upon his shoulders; and, running, bears it round the
village. A crowd attend. When the first faggot is burnt out, a second
is bound to the pole, and kindled in the same manner as before.
Numbers of these blazing faggots are often carried about together;
and when the night happens to be dark, they form a splendid
illumination. This is Halloween, and is a night of great festivity.”[371]
Also at Callander, in Perthshire:—“On All Saints Even they set up
bonfires in every village. When the bonfire is consumed, the ashes
are carefully collected into the form of a circle. There is a stone put
in, near the circumference, for every person of the several families
interested in the bonfire; and whatever stone is moved out of its
place, or injured before next morning, the person represented by
that stone is devoted, or fey; and is supposed not to live twelve
months from that day. The people received the consecrated fire from
the Druid priests next morning, the virtues of which were supposed
to continue for a year.”[372] At Kirkmichael, in the same shire, “The
practice of lighting bonfires on the first night of winter, accompanied
with various ceremonies, still prevails in this and the neighbouring
highland parishes.”[373] So likewise at Aberdeen, “The Midsummer
Even fire, a relict of Druidism, was kindled in some parts of this
county; the Hallow Even fire, another relict of Druidism, was kindled
in Buchan. Various magic ceremonies were then celebrated to
counteract the influence of witches and demons, and to
prognosticate to the young their success or disappointment in the
matrimonial lottery. These being devoutly finished, the Hallow fire
was kindled, and guarded by the male part of the family. Societies
were formed, either by pique or humour, to scatter certain fires, and
the attack and defence here often conducted with art and
fury.”—“But now”—“the Hallow fire, when kindled, is attended by
children only; and the country girl, renouncing the rites of magic,
endeavours to enchant her swain by the charms of dress and of
industry.”[374]
Pennant records, that in North Wales “there is a custom upon All
Saints Eve of making a great fire called Coel Coeth, when every
family about an hour in the night makes a great bonfire in the most
conspicuous place near the house; and when the fire is almost
extinguished, every one throws a white stone into the ashes, having
first marked it; then, having said their prayers, turning round the
fire, they go to bed. In the morning, as soon as they are up, they
come to search out the stones; and if any one of them is found
wanting, they have a notion that the person who threw it in will die
before he sees another All Saints Eve.” They also distribute soul
cakes on All Souls-day, at the receiving of which poor people pray to
God to bless the next crop of wheat.
Mr. Owen’s account of the bards, in sir R. Hoare’s “Itinerary of
archbishop Baldwin through Wales,” says, “The autumnal fire is still
kindled in North Wales on the eve of the first day of November, and
is attended by many ceremonies; such as running through the fire
and smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off at
the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow; then
supping upon parsnips, nuts, and apples; catching at an apple
suspended by a string with the mouth alone, and the same by an
apple in a tub of water; each throwing a nut into the fire, and those
that burn bright betoken prosperity to the owners through the
following year, but those that burn black and crackle denote
misfortune. On the following morning the stones are searched for in
the fire, and if any be missing they betide ill to those that threw
them in.”
At St. Kilda, on Hallow E’en night, they baked “a large cake in
form of a triangle, furrowed round, and which was to be all eaten
that night.”[375] In England, there are still some parts wherein the
grounds are illuminated upon the eve of All Souls, by bearing round
them straw, or other fit materials, kindled into a blaze. The
ceremony is called a tinley, and the Romish opinion among the
common people is, that it represents an emblematical lighting of
souls out of purgatory.
“The inhabitants of the isle of Lewis (one of the western islands
of Scotland,) had an antient custom to sacrifice to a sea god, called
Shony, at Hallow-tide, in the manner following: the inhabitants round
the island came to the church of St. Mulvay, having each man his
provision along with him. Every family furnished a peck of malt, and
this was brewed into ale. One of their number was picked out to
wade into the sea up to the middle; and, carrying a cup of ale in his
hand, standing still in that posture, cried out with a loud voice,
saying, ‘Shony, I give you this cup of ale, hoping that you’ll be so
kind as to send us plenty of sea-ware, for enriching our ground the
ensuing year;’ and so threw the cup of ale into the sea. This was
performed in the night time. At his return to land, they all went to
church, where there was a candle burning upon the altar; and then
standing silent for a little time, one of them gave a signal, at which
the candle was put out, and immediately all of them went to the
fields, where they fell a drinking their ale, and spent the remainder
of the night in dancing and singing,” &c.[376]
At Blandford Forum, in Dorsetshire, “there was a custom, in the
papal times, to ring bells at Allhallow-tide for all christian souls.”
Bishop Burnet gives a letter from king Henry the Eighth to Cranmer
“against superstitious practices,” wherein “the vigil and ringing of
bells all the night long upon Allhallow-day at night,” are directed to
be abolished; and the said vigil to have no hatching or ringing. So
likewise a subsequent injunction, early in the reign of queen
Elizabeth, orders “that the superfluous ringing of bels, and the
superstitious ringing of bells at Alhallowntide, and at Al Soul’s day,
with the two nights next before and after, be prohibited.”
General Vallancey says, concerning this night, “On the Oidhche
Shamhna, (Ee Owna,) or vigil of Samam, the peasants in Ireland
assemble with sticks and clubs, (the emblems of laceration,) going
from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese,
eggs, &c. &c. for the feast, repeating verses in honour of the
solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival in the name of St.
Columb Kill, desiring them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring
forth the black sheep. The good women are employed in making the
griddle cake and candles; these last are sent from house to house in
the vicinity, and are lighted up on the (Saman) next day, before
which they pray, or are supposed to pray, for the departed soul of
the donor. Every house abounds in the best viands they can afford.
Apples and nuts are devoured in abundance; the nut-shells are
burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are foretold.
Cabbages are torn up by the root. Hemp-seed is sown by the
maidens, and they believe that if they look back, they will see the
apparition of the man intended for their future spouse. They hang a
shift before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night,
concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will
come down the chimney and turn the shift. They throw a ball of yarn
out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced that if
they repeat the paternoster backwards, and look at the ball of yarn
without, they will then also see his sith, or apparition. They dip for
apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the
mouth. They suspend a cord with a cross stick, with apples at one
point, and candles lighted at the other; and endeavour to catch the
apple, while it is in a circular motion, in the mouth. These, and many
other superstitious ceremonies, the remains of Druidism, are
observed on this holiday, which will never be eradicated while the
name of Saman is permitted to remain.”
It is mentioned by a writer in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” that
lamb’s-wool is a constant ingredient at a merry-making on Holy Eve,
or on the evening before All Saints-day in Ireland. It is made there,
he says, by bruising roasted apples, and mixing them with ale, or
sometimes with milk. “Formerly, when the superior ranks were not
too refined for these periodical meetings of jollity, white wine was
frequently substituted for ale. To lamb’s-wool, apples and nuts are
added as a necessary part of the entertainment; and the young folks
amuse themselves with burning nuts in pairs on the bar of the grate,
or among the warm embers, to which they give their name and that
of their lovers, or those of their friends who are supposed to have
such attachments; and from the manner of their burning and
duration of the flame, &c. draw such inferences respecting the
constancy or strength of their passions, as usually promote mirth
and good humour.” Lamb’s-wool is thus etymologized by Vallancey:
—“The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding
over fruits, seeds, &c. and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, that
is, the day of the apple fruit, and being pronounced lamasool, the
English have corrupted the name to lamb’s-wool.”
So much is said, and perhaps enough for the present, concerning
the celebration of this ancient and popular vigil.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Fennel-leaved. Tickseed Coreopsis ferulifolia.

Dedicated to St. Quintin.

Seasonable.
Now comes the season when the humble want,
And know the misery of their wretched scant:
Go, ye, and seek their homes, who have the power,
And ease the sorrows of their trying hour.

“There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth

To him who gives, a blessing never ceaseth.”

[365] Life of Harvey, the conjuror, 8vo., 1728.

[366] Owen’s Welsh Dictionary.
[367] Graydon’s Collection of Poems, 8vo., Dublin, 1801.
[368] Eden’s State of the Poor.
[369] Shaw’s Hist. of Moray.
[370] Vallancey, Collect. Hibern.
[371] Sinclair’s Stat. Acc. of Scotland.
[372] Ibid.
[373] Ibid.
[374] Ibid.
[375] Martin’s Western Islands.
[376] Ibid.
NOVEMBER.
 Next was November; he full grown and fat
As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;
For he had been a fatting hogs of late,
That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steam;
And yet the season was full sharp and breem;
In planting eeke he took no small delight,
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme
For it a dreadful centaure was in sight,
The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight.
Spenser.
This is the eleventh month of the year. The anglo-saxons gave
names in their own tongue to each month, and “November they
termed wint-monat, to wit, wind-moneth, whereby wee may see that
our ancestors were in this season of the yeare made acquainted with
blustring Boreas; and it was the antient custome for shipmen then to
shrowd themselves at home, and to give over sea-faring
(notwithstanding the littlenesse of their then used voyages) untill
blustring March had bidden them well to fare.”[377] They likewise
called it blot-monath. In the saxon, “blot” means blood; and in this
month they killed great abundance of cattle for winter-store, or,
according to some, for purposes of sacrifice to their deities.[378]
Bishop Warburton commences a letter to his friend Hurd, with an
allusion to the evil influence which the gloominess of this month is
proverbially supposed to have on the mind. He dates from Bedford-
row, October 28th, 1749:—“I am now got hither,” he says, “to spend
the month of November: the dreadful month of November! when the
little wretches hang and drown themselves, and the great ones sell
themselves to the court and the devil.”
“This is the month,” says Mr. Leigh Hunt, “in which we are said by
the Frenchman to hang and drown ourselves. We also agree with
him to call it ‘the gloomy month of November;’ and, above all, with
our in-door, money-getting, and unimaginative habits, all the rest of
the year, we contrive to make it so. Not all of us, however: and
fewer and fewer, we trust, every day. It is a fact well known to the
medical philosopher, that, in proportion as people do not like air and
exercise, their blood becomes darker and darker: now what corrupts
and thickens the circulation, and keeps the humours within the
pores, darkens and clogs the mind; and we are then in a state to
receive pleasure but indifferently or confusedly, and pain with tenfold
painfulness. If we add to this a quantity of unnecessary cares and
sordid mistakes, it is so much the worse. A love of nature is the
refuge. He who grapples with March, and has the smiling eyes upon
him of June and August, need have no fear of November.—And as
the Italian proverb says, every medal has its reverse. November,
with its loss of verdure, its frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and the
visible approach of winter, is undoubtedly a gloomy month to the
gloomy but to others, it brings but pensiveness, a feeling very far
from destitute of pleasure; and if the healthiest and most
imaginative of us may feel their spirits pulled down by reflections
connected with earth, its mortalities, and its mistakes, we should but
strengthen ourselves the more to make strong and sweet music with
the changeful but harmonious movements of nature.” This pleasant
observer of the months further remarks, that, “There are many
pleasures in November if we will lift up our matter-of-fact eyes, and
find that there are matters-of-fact we seldom dream of. It is a
pleasant thing to meet the gentle fine days, that come to contradict
our sayings for us; it is a pleasant thing to see the primrose come
back again in woods and meadows; it is a pleasant thing to catch
the whistle of the green plover, and to see the greenfinches
congregate; it is a pleasant thing to listen to the deep amorous note
of the wood-pigeons, who now come back again; and it is a pleasant
thing to hear the deeper voice of the stags, making their triumphant
love amidst the falling leaves.
“Besides a quantity of fruit, our gardens retain a number of the
flowers of last month, with the stripped lily in leaf; and, in addition
to several of the flowering trees and shrubs, we have the fertile and
glowing china-roses in flower: and in fruit the pyracantha, with its
lustrous red-berries, that cluster so beautifully on the walls of
cottages. This is the time also for domestic cultivators of flowers to
be very busy in preparing for those spring and winter ornaments,
which used to be thought the work of magic. They may plant
hyacinths, dwarf tulips, polyanthus-narcissus, or any other
moderately-growing bulbous roots, either in water-glasses, or in pots
of light dry earth, to flower early in their apartments. If in glasses,
the bulb should be a little in the water; if in pots, a little in the earth,
or but just covered. They should be kept in a warm light room.
“The trees generally lose their leaves in the following succession:
—walnut, mulberry, horse-chesnut, sycamore, lime, ash, then, after
an interval, elm, then beech and oak, then apple and peach-trees,
sometimes not till the end of November; and lastly, pollard oaks and
young beeches, which retain their withered leaves till pushed off by
their new ones in spring. Oaks that happen to be stripped of their
leaves by chaffers, will often surprise the haunter of nature by being
clothed again soon after midsummer with a beautiful vivid foliage.
“The farmer endeavours to finish his ploughing this month, and
then lays up his instruments for the spring. Cattle are kept in the
yard or stable, sheep turned into the turnip-field, or in bad weather
fed with hay; bees moved under shelter, and pigeons fed in the
dove-house.
“Among our autumnal pleasures, we ought not to have omitted
the very falling of the leaves:
To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air,
Go eddying round.
C. Lamb.
“Towards the end of the month, under the groves and other
shady places, they begin to lie in heaps, and to rustle to the foot of
the passenger; and there they will lie till the young leaves are grown
overhead, and spring comes to look down upon them with their
flowers:—
O Spring! of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness,
Wind-winged emblem! brightest, best, and fairest!
Whence comest thou, when, with dark winter’s sadness,
The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest?
Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest
Thy mother’s dying smile, tender and sweet;
Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest
Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet,
Disturbing not the leaves, which are her winding sheet.”
Shelley.
 [377] Verstegan.
[378] Dr. F. Sayer.

November 1.
All Saints. St. Cæsarius, A. D. 300. St. Mary. M. St.
Marcellus, Bp. of Paris, 5th Cent. St. Benignus,
Apostle of Burgundy, A. D. 272. St. Austremonius, 3d
Cent. St. Harold VI., King of Denmark, A. D. 980.

All Saints.
This festival in the almanacs and the church of England calendar
is from the church of Rome, which celebrates it in commemoration
of those of its saints, to whom, on account of their number,
particular days could not be allotted in their individual honour.
On this day, in many parts of England, apples are bobbed for, and
nuts cracked, as upon its vigil, yesterday; and we still retain traces
of other customs that we had in common with Scotland, Ireland, and
Wales, in days of old.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,
Should the following excerpt relative to the first of November be
of use to you, it is at your service, extracted from a scarce and
valuable work by Dr. W. Owen Pughe, entitled “Translations of the
Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hên, London, 1792.”
“The first day of November was considered (among the ancient
Welsh) as the conclusion of summer, and was celebrated with
bonfires, accompanied with ceremonies suitable to the event, and
some parts of Wales still retain these customs. Ireland retains similar
ones, and the fire that is made at these seasons, is called Beal
teinidh, in the Irish language, and some antiquaries of that country,
in establishing the eras of the different colonies planted in the island,
have been happy enough to adduce as an argument for their
Phœnician origin this term of Beal teinidh.
“The meaning of tàn, (in Welsh), like the Irish teinidh, is fire, and
Bal is simply a projecting springing out or expanding, and when
applied to vegetation, it means a budding or shooting out of leaves
and blossoms, the same as balant, of which it is the root, and it is
also the root of bala and of blwydd, blwyddyn and blynedd, a year,
or circle of vegetation. So the signification of bâl dân, or tân bâl,
would be the rejoicing fire for the vegetation, or for the crop of the
year.”
The following seven triplets by Llywarch Hên, who lived to the
surprising age of one hundred and forty years, and wrote in the sixth
century, also relate to the subject. The translations, which are strictly
literal, are also from the pen of Dr. Pughe.
Triplets. Tribanau.
1. 1.
On All Saints day hard is the grain, Calangauaf caled grawn
The leaves are dropping, the puddle is full, Dail ar gychwyn, Uynwyn
Uawn:—
At setting off in the morning Y bore cyn noi fyned,
Woe to him that will trust a stranger. Gwae a ymddiried i estrawn.
2. 2.
All Saints day, a time of pleasant gossiping, Calangauaf cain gyfrin,
The gale and the storm keep equal pace, Cyfred awel a drychin:
It is the labour of falsehood to keep a secret. Gwaith celwydd yw celu rhin.
3. 3.
On All Saints day the stags are lean, Calangauaf cul hyddod
Yellow are the tops of birch; deserted is the Melyn blaen bedw, gweddw
summer dwelling: hafod:
Woe to him who for a trifle deserves a curse. Gwae a haedd mefyl er
bychod.
4. 4.
On All Saints day the tops of the branches are Calangauaf crwm blaen
bent; gwrysg:
In the mouth of the mischievous, disturbance Gnawd o ben diried derfysg;
is congenial:
Where there is no natural gift there will be no Lle ni bo dawn ni bydd dysg.
learning.
5. 5.
On All Saints day blustering is the weather, Calangauaf garw hin,
Very unlike the beginning of the past fair Annhebyg i gyntefin:
season:
Besides God there is none who knows the Namwyn Duw nid oes dewin.
future.
6. 6.
On All Saints day ’tis hard and dry, Calangauaf caled cras,
Doubly black is the crow, quick is the arrow Purddu bran, buan o fras:
from the bow,
For the stumbling of the old, the looks of the Am gwymp hen chwerddid
young wear a smile. gwèn gwâs.
7. 7.
On All Saints day bare is the place where the Calangauaf Uwn goddaith,
heath is burnt,
The plough is in the furrow, the ox at work: Aradyr yn rhych, ych yn
ngwaith:
Amongst a hundred ’tis a chance to find a O’r cant odid cydymmaith.
friend.

It will be perceived that each triplet, as was customary with the

ancient Britons is accompanied by a moral maxim, without relation
to the subject of the song.
Gwilym Sais.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Laurastinus. Laurastinus sempervirens.

Dedicated to St. Fortunatus.

November 2.
All Souls; or the Commemoration of the Faithful
departed. St. Victorinus Bp. A. D. 304. St. Marcian, A. D.
 387. St. Vulgan, 8th Cent.

All Souls.
This day, also a festival in the almanacs, and the church of
England calendar, is from the Romish church, which celebrates it
with masses and ceremonies devised for the occasion. “Odilon,
abbot of Cluny, in the 9th century, first enjoined the ceremony of
praying for the dead on this day in his own monastery; and the like
practice was partially adopted by other religious houses until the
year 998, when it was established as a general festival throughout
the western churches. To mark the pre-eminent importance of this
festival, if it happened on a Sunday it was not postponed to the
Monday, as was the case with other such solemnities, but kept on
the Saturday, in order that the church might the sooner aid the
suffering souls; and, that the dead might have every benefit from
the pious exertions of the living, the remembrance of this ordinance
was kept up, by persons dressed in black, who went round the
different towns, ringing a loud and dismal-toned bell at the corner of
each street, every Sunday evening during the month; and calling
upon the inhabitants to remember the deceased suffering the
expiatory flames of purgatory, and to join in prayer for the repose of
their souls.[379]”

Time.

Mr. John M‘Creery, to whose press Mr. Roscoe committed his

“History of Leo X.,” and the subsequent productions of his pen, has
marked this day by dating a beautiful poem on it, which all who
desire to seize the “golden grains” of time, will do well to learn and
remember daily.
INSCRIPTION
FOR MY DAUGHTERS’ HOUR-GLASS.
Mark the golden grains that pass
Brightly thro’ this channell’d glass,
Measuring by their ceaseless fall
 Heaven’s most precious gift to all!
Busy, till its sand be done,
See the shining current run;
But, th’ allotted numbers shed,
Another hour of life hath fled!
Its task perform’d, its travail past,
Like mortal man it rests at last!—
Yet let some hand invert its frame
And all its powers return the same,
Whilst any golden grains remain
’Twill work its little hour again.—
But who shall turn the glass for man,
When all his golden grains have ran?
Who shall collect his scatter’d sand,
Dispers’d by time’s unsparing hand?—
Never can one grain be found,
Howe’er we anxious search around!
Then, daughters, since this truth is plain,
That Time once gone ne’er comes again.
Improv’d bid every moment pass—
See how the sand rolls down your glass.
Nov. 2. 1810. J. M. C.
Mr. M‘Creery first printed this little effusion of his just and
vigorous mind on a small slip, one of which he gave at the time to
the editor of the Every-Day Book, who if he has not like
——— the little busy bee
Improved each shining hour,
is not therefore less able to determine the value of those that are
gone for ever; nor therefore less anxious to secure each that may
fall to him; nor less qualified to enjoin on his youthful readers the
importance of this truth, “that time once gone, ne’er comes again.”
He would bid them remember, in the conscience-burning words of
one of our poets, that—
“Time is the stuff that life is made of.”

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Winter Cherry. Physalis.

Dedicated to St. Marcian.
 [379] Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.

November 3.
St. Malachi, Abp. of Armagh, A. D. 1143. St. Hubert, Bp.
of Leige, A. D. 727. St. Wenefride, or Winefride. St.
Papoul, or Papulus, 3d. Cent. St. Flour, A. D. 389. St.
Rumwald.

Without being sad, we may be serious; and continue to-day the

theme of yesterday.
Mr. Bowring, from whose former poetical works several citations
have already glistened these pages, in a subsequent collection of
effusions, has versified to our purpose. He reminds us that—
Man is not left untold, untaught,
Untrain’d by heav’n to heavenly things;
No! ev’ry fleeting hour has brought
Lessons of wisdom on its wings;
And ev’ry day bids solemn thought
Soar above earth’s imaginings.
In life, in death, a voice is heard,
Speaking in heaven’s own eloquence,
That calls on purposes deferr’d,
On wand’ring thought, on wild’ring sense,
And bids reflection, long interr’d,
Arouse from its indifference.
Another poem is a translation
From the German.
Ach wie nichtig, ach wie flüchtig!
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is our earthly being!
’Tis a mist in wintry weather,
Gather’d in an hour together,
And as soon dispers’d in ether.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
 Are our days departing!
Like a deep and headlong river
Flowing onward, flowing ever—
Tarrying not and stopping never.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Are the world’s enjoyments!
All the hues of change they borrow,
Bright to-day and dark to-morrow—
Mingled lot of joy and sorrow!
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is all earthly beauty!
Like a summer flow’ret flowing,
Scattered by the breezes, blowing
O’er the bed on which ’twas growing.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is the strength of mortals!
On a lion’s power they pride them,
With security beside them—
Yet what overthrows betide them!
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is all earthly pleasure!
’Tis an air-suspended bubble,
Blown about in tears and trouble,
Broken soon by flying stubble.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is all earthly honour!
He who wields a monarch’s thunder,
Tearing right and law asunder,
Is to-morrow trodden under.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is all mortal wisdom!
He who with poetic fiction,
Sway’d and silenced contradiction,
Soon is still’d by death’s infliction.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is all earthly music!
Though he sing as angels sweetly,
Play he never so discreetly,
Death will overpower him fleetly.
 O how cheating, O how fleeting
Are all mortal treasures!
Let him pile and pile untiring,
Time, that adds to his desiring,
Shall disperse the heap aspiring.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is the world’s ambition!
Thou who sit’st upon the steepest
Height, and there securely sleepest,
Soon wilt sink, alas! the deepest.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
Is the pomp of mortals!
Clad in purple—and elated,
O’er their fellows elevated,
They shall be by death unseated.
O how cheating, O how fleeting
All—yes! all that’s earthly!
Every thing is fading—flying—
Man is mortal—earth is dying—
Christian! live on Heav’n relying.
The same writer truly pictures our fearful estate, if we heed not
the silent progress of “the enemy,” that by proper attention we may
convert into a friend.—
Time.
On! on! our moments hurry by
Like shadows of a passing cloud,
Till general darkness wraps the sky,
And man sleeps senseless in his shroud.
He sports, he trifles time away,
Till time is his to waste no more.
Heedless he hears the surges play;
And then is dash’d upon the shore.
He has no thought of coming days,
Though they alone deserve his thought
And so the heedless wanderer strays,
And treasures nought and gathers nought.
Though wisdom speak—his ear is dull;
Though virtue smile—he sees her not;
His cup of vanity is full;
 And all besides forgone—forgot.
These “memorabilia” are from a three-shilling volume, entitled
“Hymns, by John Bowring,” intended as a sequel to the “Matins and
Vespers.” Mr. Bowring does not claim that his “little book” shall
supply the place of similar productions. “If it be allowed,” he says,
“to add any thing to the treasures of our devotional poetry; if any of
its pages should be hereafter blended with the exercises of domestic
and social worship; or if it shall be the companion of meditative
solitude, the writer will be more than rewarded.” All this gentleman’s
poetical works, diversified as they are, tend “to mend the heart.”

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Primrose. Primula vulgaris.

Dedicated to St. Flour.

November 4.
St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal, Abp. of Milan, A. D.
1584. Sts. Vitalis and Agricola, A. D. 304. St.
Joannicius, Abbot, A. D. 845. St. Clarus, A. D. 894. St.
Brinstan, Bp. of Winchester, A. D. 931.
KING WILLIAM LANDED.

So say our almanacs, directly in opposition to the fact, that king

William III. did not land until the next day, the 5th: we have only to
look into our annals and be assured that the almanacs are in error.
Rapin says, “The fourth of November being Sunday, and the prince’s
birthday, now (in 1688) thirty-eight years of age, was by him
dedicated to devotion; the fleet still continuing their course, in order
to land at Dartmouth, or Torbay. But in the night, whether by the
violence of the wind, or the negligence of the pilot, the fleet was
carried beyond the desired ports without a possibility of putting
back, such was the fury of the wind. But soon after, the wind turned
to the south, which happily carried the fleet into Torbay, the most
convenient place for landing the horse of any in England. The forces
were landed with such diligence and tranquillity, that the whole army
was on shore before night. It was thus that the prince of Orange
landed in England, without any opposition, on the 5th of November,
whilst the English were celebrating the memory of their deliverance
from the powder-plot about fourscore years before,” &c. Hume also
says, “The prince had a prosperous voyage, and landed his army
safely in Torbay on the 5th of November, the anniversary of the
gunpowder treason.” These historians ground their statements on
the authority of bishop Burnet, who was on board the fleet, and
from other writers of the period, and their accuracy is provable from
the public records of the kingdom, notwithstanding the almanac-
makers say to the contrary. It must be admitted, however, that the
fourth is kept as the anniversary of the landing of king William, a
holiday at different public offices.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Strawberry-tree. Arbutus.
Dedicated to St. Brinstan.

November 5.
St. Bertille, Abbess of Chelles, A. D. 692.

Powder Plot, 1605.

This is a great day in the calendar of the church of England: it is
duly noticed by the almanacs, and kept as a holiday at the public
offices. In the “Common Prayer Book,” there is “A Form of Prayer
with Thanksgiving, to be used yearly upon the Fifth day of
November; for the happy deliverance of King James I., and the three
Estates of England, from the most Traiterous and bloody-intended
Massacre by Gunpowder: And also for the happy Arrival of His late
Majesty (King William III.) on this Day, for the Deliverance of our
Church and Nation.”
GUY FAWKES.

There cannot be a better representation of “Guy Fawkes,” as he

is borne about the metropolis, “in effigy,” on the fifth of November,
every year, than the drawing to this article by Mr. Cruikshank. It is
not to be expected that poor boys should be well informed as to
Guy’s history, or be particular about his costume. With them “Guy
Fawkes-day,” or, as they as often call it, “Pope-day,” is a holiday, and
as they reckon their year by their holidays, this, on account of its
festivous enjoyment, is the greatest holiday of the season. They
prepare long before hand, not “Guy,” but the fuel wherewith he is to
be burnt, and the fireworks to fling about at the burning: “the Guy”
is the last thing thought of, “the bonfire” the first. About this time ill
is sure to betide the owner of an ill-secured fence; stakes are
extracted from hedges, and branches torn from trees; crack, crack,
goes loose paling; deserted buildings yield up their floorings;
unbolted flip-flapping doors are released from their hinges as
supernumeraries; and more burnables are deemed lawful prize than
the law allows. These are secretly stored in some enclosed place,
which other “collectors” cannot find, or dare not venture to invade.
Then comes the making of “the Guy,” which is easily done with
straw, after the materials of dress are obtained: these are an old
coat, waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, which usually as ill accord
in their proportions and fitness, as the parts in some of the new
churches. His hose and coat are frequently “a world too wide;” in
such cases his legs are infinitely too big, and the coat is “hung like a
loose sack about him.” A barber’s block for the head is “the very
thing itself;” chalk and charcoal make capital eyes and brows, which
are the main features, inasmuch as the chin commonly drops upon
the breast, and all deficiencies are hid by “buttoning up:” a large wig
is a capital achievement. Formerly an old cocked hat was the
reigning fashion for a “Guy;” though the more strictly informed
“dresser of the character” preferred a mock-mitre; now, however,
both hat and mitre have disappeared, and a stiff paper cap painted,
and knotted with paper strips, in imitation of ribbon, is its substitute;
a frill and ruffles of writing-paper so far completes the figure. Yet
this neither was not, nor is, a Guy, without a dark lantern in one
hand, and a spread bunch of matches in the other. The figure thus
furnished, and fastened in a chair, is carried about the streets in the
manner represented in the engraving; the boys shouting forth the
words of the motto with loud huzzas, and running up to passengers
hat in hand, with “pray remember Guy! please to remember Guy.”

Guy Fawkes.
 Please to remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder treason and plot;
We know no reason, why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Holla boys! holla boys! huzza—a—a!
A stick and a stake, for king George’s sake,
A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes’s rump!
Holla boys! holla boys! huzza—a—a
Scuffles seldom happen now, but “in my youthful days,” “when
Guy met Guy—then came the tug of war!” The partisans fought, and
a decided victory ended in the capture of the “Guy” belonging to the
vanquished. Sometimes desperate bands, who omitted, or were
destitute of the means to make “Guys,” went forth like Froissart’s
knights “upon adventures.” An enterprise of this sort was called
“going to smug a Guy,” that is, to steal one by “force of arms,” fists,
and sticks, from its rightful owners. These partisans were always
successful, for they always attacked the weak.
In such times, the burning of “a good Guy” was a scene of
uproar unknown to the present day. The bonfire in Lincoln’s Inn
Fields was of this superior order of disorder. It was made at the
Great Queen-street corner, immediately opposite Newcastle-house.
Fuel came all day long, in carts properly guarded against surprise:
old people have remembered when upwards of two hundred cart-
loads were brought to make and feed this bonfire, and more than
thirty “Guys” were burnt upon gibbets between eight and twelve
o’clock at night.
At the same period, the butchers in Clare-market had a bonfire in
the open space of the market, next to Bear-yard, and they thrashed
each other “round about the wood-fire,” with the strongest sinews of
slaughtered bulls. Large parties of butchers from all the markets
paraded the streets, ringing peals from marrow-bones-and-cleavers,
so loud as to overpower the storms of sound that came from the
rocking belfries of the churches. By ten o’clock, London was so lit up
by bonfires and fireworks, that from the suburbs it looked in one red
heat. Many were the overthrows of horsemen and carriages, from
the discharge of hand-rockets, and the pressure of moving mobs
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