marking its inquisitive disposition. The bird's curiosity is described as beyond bounds, never failing to examine anything new in house or garden. No gardener could prune the trees in peace with the crow near, as the nails disappeared from the nail-box with a most unpleasant rapidity. Was a ladder left against the wall, up went the bird and took a survey of the country from every part of the garden wall. No window could be left open within his reach, for then no room was safe from a general scrutiny. If hungry, he soon forced the inmates of the kitchen to admit him, or quickly the windows were broken by the rapid and smart taps of his bill. The endless meddling of this crow with every moveable object is thought to have sometimes occasioned the destruction of houses by fire, in consequence of lighted sticks being plucked from the stoves and carried about the dwelling by the bird. This, however, may be a fancy; it is not likely to have happened often.

This crow has several names, being called, in some parts, the Cornish daw, and Cornwall kae, in others the killigrew, chauk-daw, and market jew-crow.

We have now described some of the most characteristic habits of four species of crow; endeavouring to set before the reader the true bird-life of each variety, without encumbering the page with useless technicalities, or with those anatomical descriptions which, though beautiful to the scientific man, are not found to interest readers unacquainted with the complicated mechanism of animal bodies.

If one just view of nature has been gained, or one erroneous sentiment removed by contemplating the facts here presented, then has the true education of our hearts and understandings been so far promoted, and our minds prepared for a juster appreciation of all things beautiful and true.

Our next article will conclude the history of the crow family, and illustrate the habits of the rooks, jackdaws, magpies and jays.

THE POPULAR YEAR-BOOK.

August.

THIS is the eighth month of the year. In the Alban Kalendar it was the sixth, and thence named Sextilis. Numa gave to it the place which it now occupies. It was denominated August by the Roman Senate, in honour of Octavius Cæsar, better known as Augustus. The Saxons termed it Ern or Barn-monat, "intending thereby the then filling of their barns with grain; also Woed-monat, to express the beauteous clothing of the ground in harvest. August is pictured in their Kalendars as a carter standing near a wagon laden with corn. "In later times," says Brady, "men mowing grass was the emblem of the month; and still nearer our own period, but of old date, August was delineated as a young man with a fierce countenance, dressed in a flame-coloured garment, bearing a victim, and crowned with a garland of wheat; having on his arm a basket of summer-fruits, and a sickle stuck through his belt." Spenser says:

"The eighth was August, being rich array'd

In garment all of gold down to the ground:
Yet rode he not, but led a lovely maid

Forth by the lily hand, the which was crown'd
With ears of corn, and full her hand was found.
That was the righteous Virgin, which of old
Liv'd here on earth, and plenty made abound;

But after wrong was lov'd, and justice sold, She left th' unrighteous world, and was to heav'n extoll'd." On the 23d of this month the sun enters the sign Virgo, the Virgin, to whom the poet alludes in the above stanza, and honours by converting her into Astrea, the goddess of justice, who," observes a modern writer, "seems to return to earth awhile, when the exuberance of the season presents enough for all.”

The beginning of August is hot, and usually fair and calm. The rich glow of summer is seldom in perfection till now. There is abundance of dew. The moon is particularly beautiful in this month, and is called "the harvest moon," because in the harvest season she rises for a week, when she is full, sooner after sunset than at any other time of the year.

August has been described as that debateable ground which is situated exactly upon the confines of summer and autumn; and it is difficult to say which has the better claim to it. It is dressed in half the flowers of the one, and half the fruits of the other; and it has a sky and a temperature of its own, and which vie in beauty with those of spring. "This," says an author before cited, "is the month of harvest. The crops usually begin with rye and oats, proceed with wheat, and finish with peas and beans. Harvest-home is still the greatest rural holiday in England, because it concludes at once the most laborious and most lucrative of the farmer's employments, and unites repose and profit. Thank Heaven there are, and must be, seasons of some repose in agricultural employments, or the countryman would work with as unceasing a madness, and contrive to be almost as diseased and unhealthy as the citizen. But here again our holiday-making is not what it once was. Our ancestors used to burst into an enthusiasm of joy at the end of harvest, and appear even to have mingled their previous labour with considerable merrymaking, in which they imitated the equality of the earlier ages. They crowned the wheat-sheaves with flowers, they sung, they shouted, they danced, they invited each other, or met to feast, as at Christmas, in the halls of rich houses; and, what was a very amiable custom, and wise beyond the commoner wisdom that may seem to lie on the top of it, every one that had been concerned, man, woman, and child, received a little present-ribands, laces, or sweetmeats."

August is also, in some parts of England, the season of hop-picking. The hop is a climbing plant, sometimes growing wild in hedges, and cultivated on account of its use in making malt-liquors. Hops are planted in regular rows, and poles set for them to twine upon. When the poles are covered, nothing can make a more elegant appearance than a "hop-garden." At the time of gathering, the poles are taken up with the plants clinging on them, and the scaly flowering heads are carefully picked off. Kent, Sussex, and Worcestershire, are the counties most famous for the growth of hops.

About the middle of August, the young goldfinch broods appear, lapwings and linnets congregate, birds their nest-trees. resume their spring song, and rooks begin to roost in cuckoo, turtle-dove, and wry-neck, leave our shores, and At this time also the puffin, swift, the mountain-finch, sanderling, siskin, gull, godwit, cross-beak, and plover arrive. At the end of the month the red-breast is heard; and bulls make their "shrill autumnal bellowing." Insects still abound during August. Moths, flies, crickets, beetles, and glow-worms, Camberwell beauty, painted lady, clouded sulphur, and are numerous; and the swallow-tailed, the red admiral, peacock butterflies are to be seen. The number of flowers is now greatly diminished. Those which bloomed in June and July are running to seed, and have but few successors. Among these are nigella, zinneas, polyanthuses, Michaelmas daisies, &c. The additional trees and shrubs in flower, are tamerisk, altheas, Venetian sumach, pomegranates, the passion-flower, the trumpetflower, and the virgin's-bower, or clematis. Heaths, fern, and saffron, are also in bloom; and the commons are in their chief beauty, and glow with green, purple, and gold. Some of the choicest fruits are now ripe.

"The sunny wall
Presents the downy peach, the shining plum,
The ruddy, fragrant nectarine, and dark
Beneath his ample leaf, tlie luscious fig.”

Grapes and apricots are also in season.

August 1.—Lammas Day.

Antiquaries differ concerning the origin of the above epithet. "In the Roman Kalendar," remarks Brady, "the first of August is known by the name of the Feast of St. Peter ad Vincula, or St. Peter in Bonds, being the day of the commemoration of the imprisonment of that holy Apostle. [Instituted A.D. 317.] Hence some antiquaries consider, that the day obtained its appellation of Lam, or Lamb-mas, from a conceit entertained of St. Peter having been the patron of lambs, owing to the metaphorical expression of our SAVIOUR, 'Feed My Lambs,' and that, therefore, a mass was instituted in order to procure the Apostle's benediction, that their lambs might escape the danger of cold after being shorn at this season." Other writers suppose that the first of August is so called because on that day the tenants who held lands of the Cathedral Church of York (which is dedicated to St. Peter ad Vincula,) were bound by their tenure to bring a live lamb into the church at high-mass. Others, again, imagine the name Lammas to have been derived from the Saxon Hlaf-Mass, i.e. Loaf Mass, or Bread-Mass, which signifies a feast of Thanksgiving for the first fruits of the corn. "It seems," says Brand, "to have been observed with bread of new wheat; and, accordingly, it is a usage in some places for tenants to be bound to bring in wheat of that year to their lord, on or before the first of August. New wheat is called Lammas wheat. Vallency observes that this day was anciently dedicated in Ireland to the sacrifice of the fruits of the soil; that La-ith-mas, the day of the oblation of grain, is pronounced La-ee-mas, a word readily corrupted to Lammas; that ith signifies all kinds of grain, particularly wheat, and that mas signifies fruits of all sorts, especially the acorn. Skinner thinks the day was called Lamb-mass "because lambs then grew out of season." Dr. Barnard imagines" that it is a corrupt mode of expressing Lat-mass, a summer festival" and Johnson supposes it merely a corruption of Lattermath, whereas," writes Brady, "it would rather appear that it was a corruption of Latter Lammas, or in other words, of that period which was allowed to tenants to bring their wheat to their lords in backward seasons: an indulgence which, however requisite at times, was often abused, and at length occasioned it to be stigmatized in the old proverb, He will pay, or he will perform his promise, &c. at Latter Lammas,' that is, never."

OLD AND POPULAR CUSTOMS.

From very early times till about 1762, a singular festival was annually celebrated on Lammas Day in all the country within the distance of six miles west of Edinburgh, by the young persons employed during summer in tending the herds at pasture. The herdsmen, within a certain district, towards the beginning of summer, formed themselves into bands, sometimes to the number of a hundred or more. Each of these companies agreed to build a tower in some conspicuous place, near the centre of their district, which was to be their place of rendezvous on Lammas Day. This tower was usually formed of sods, generally square,about four feet in diameter at the bottom, and tapering to a point at the top, which was seldom above seven or eight feet from the ground. A hole was left in the centre for the insertion of a flagstaff and colours. The tower was commenced about a month before Lammas, and was reared slowly by successive additions from time to time, being seldom

the party who finished theirs soonest, and kept it standing the longest time before the above day, were always considered to have behaved in the most gallant manner, and acquired most honour by their behaviour. From the moment the foundation of the tower was laid, it became an object of care to the whole community to whom it belonged. Disgrace was thought to attach to those who suffered it to be defaced; so that they resisted with all their power any attempts that were made to demolish it, either by fraud or force; and as the honour that was acquired by the destruction of a tower, if effected by those belonging to another, was in proportion to the disgrace of suffering it to be demolished, each party endeavoured to circumvent the other as much as possible, and laid plans to steal upon the tower unperceived, in the night time, and level it with the ground. Great was the honour that such a successful exploit conveyed to the undertakers; and though the tower was easily rebuilt, and soon put into its former state, yet the news of its overthrow was quickly spread by the successful adventurers through the whole district. To ward off this disgrace, a constant nightly guard was kept at each tower, which was made stronger and stronger as the tower advanced, and frequent skirmishes ensued, but were seldom of much consequence, as the assailants rarely came in force to make an attack, but merely to

succeed by surprise;" as soon, therefore, as they saw they were discovered, they retreated with all speed. Every person was armed with a "tooting-horn," with which he gave the alarm on these and other occasions. This instrument is a horn perforated at the small end, through which wind can be forcibly blown from the mouth, so as to occasion a loud sound; and, as every one wished to acquire as great dexterity as possible in the use of it, they practised upon it during the summer, while tending their herds; and towards Lammas they were so incessantly occupied in this manner, answering to, and vieing with each other, that the whole country rang continually with the sounds. As Lammas Day approached, each community chose one from among themselves for their captain, and they prepared a stand of colours to be ready to be then displayed. For this purpose, they usually borrowed from some of the farmers' wives within the district, a fine table napkin of the largest size, and to ornament it, they also borrowed ribands, which they tacked upon the napkin in fanciful devices. Early in the morning of the first of August, they marched forth, dressed in their best clothes, and each armed with a stout cudgel, and, repairing to their tower, there displayed their colours in triumph; blowing horns, and making merry. About nine o'clock they sat down upon the green, and each taking from his pocket bread and cheese, or other provisions, made a hearty breakfast, drinking pure water from a well, which they always took care should be near the scene of banquet. In the meantime, scouts were sent out towards every quarter, to bring them notice if any hostile party approached; for it frequently happened, that on that day the herdsmen of one district went to attack those of another district, and to bring them under subjection to them by main force. If news arrived that a hostile band approached, the horns sounded to arms, and their owners immediately arranged themselves in the best order they could devise; the stoutest and boldest in front, and those of inferior prowess behind. They seldom waited the approach of the enemy, but went out to meet them, the captain of each company carrying the colours and leading the van. When they met, they mutually desired each other to lower their colours in sign of subjection. If there appeared to be a great disproportion in the strength of the parties, the weaker usually submitted to this ceremony without much difficulty, thinking their honour was saved by the evident disproportion of the match; but if they were nearly equal in strength, neither would yield, and the parley ended in blows, and sometimes bloodshed. It is related

that, in a battle of this kind, four were actually killed, and many disabled from work for weeks. If no opponent appeared, or if they themselves had no intention of making an attack, at about mid-day they took down their colours, and marched with horns sounding towards the most considerable village in their district; where the girls, and all the people, came out to meet them, and share in their diversions. Boundaries were immediately appointed, and a proclamation made that all who intended to compete in the race should appear. A bonnet, ornamented with ribands, was displayed upon a pole as a prize to the victor; and sometimes five or six started for it, and ran with as great eagerness as if the guerdon was a crown; the prize of the second race was a pair of garters, and the third a knife. They then amused themselves for some time with such rural sports as suited their taste, and dispersed quietly to their respective homes before sunset. When two parties met, and one of them yielded to the other, they marched together for some time in two separate bodies, the subjected body behind the other; and then they parted good friends, each performing their races, &c. at their own appointed place. Next day, the ribands and napkin that formed the colours were carefully returned to their respective owners, the tower was left to take care of itself, and the country returned to its usual state of tranquillity.

Lammas Day is celebrated in London by a rowing match on the river Thames, instituted by Thomas Dogget, an old actor of celebrity, who, in the year after George I. came to the throne (1714) gave a waterman's coat and a silver badge, to be rowed for by six watermen on the first of August, being the anniversary of that king's accession. This he continued till his decease, and also bequeathed a certain sum of money, the interest of which was to be appropriated annually for ever to the purchase of a similar coat and badge, to be rowed for by six young watermen whose apprenticeship had expired the year before. The claimants set out at a given signal when the current is strongest against them, and row from the Old Swan, near London Bridge, to the White Swan, at Chelsea. At Exeter, the day is signalized by a fair, the charter of which is perpetuated by a glove of immense size, stuffed, and carried through the city on a very long pole, decorated with flowers and ribands, and attended with music, parish beadles, and "the mobility." It is afterwards placed on the top of the Guildhall, and then the fair begins; on the removal of the glove the fair terminates.

August 6.-Our Blessed LORD's glorified appearance on Mount Tabor, is commemorated on this day in the Anglican Kalendar. The Greek Church instituted the festival of the Transfiguration so early as the year 700; but the Latins did not celebrate it until 1456, when Pope Calixtus III. passed a decrce for its general observance to perpetuate the remembrance of the raising of the siege of Belgrade by Mahomet the Second. It is alleged, however, that this feast was observed at Rome in the fifth century.

August 8, in the current year, is the Saturday after Lammas Day, on which the inhabitants of Ripon, Yorkshire, commence their annual festival in honour of their patron St. Wilfrid, by going out to meet his effigy, which is brought into the town with great ceremony, and preceded by a band of music. The following day is dedicated to St. Wilfrid.

"A few summers ago," says Mr. Hope, in his admirable "Essays," "I was journeying through Yorkshire, and spent a Sunday at Ripon. A beautiful day it was, and the sun shone bright on the grey minster of that quiet city; and this day was the anniversary of the dedication of that famous church by St. Wilfrid, nigh twelve centuries ago, still called Wilfrid Sunday, still observed as a season of universal rejoicing; and in the walls of that late-made Cathedral Church I first heard the praises of that great Saxon Saint proclaimed by him who then and still occupies the decanal stall." On

the Monday and Tuesday there are horse-races, for small sums only; though formerly there were plates of twenty, thirty, forty, and fifty pounds. Women were formerly the riders at one of the races, as appears from an advertisement in the "Newcastle Courant" of August 28, 1725.

Poetry.

[In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.]

LITTLE JANE.

BY MRS. TOOGOOD.

An orphan girl was little Jane
When scarcely her sixth year went by;
And like a flower upon the plain,
And like a star upon the sky,
And as a joyous bird is seen,
That flits upon the lonely green,
To smile and sing from shrub or tree,
Such Jane was in her infancy.

Her mother was of meekest mind,
And careful was she day by day
The narrow path of truth to find;
And early Jane had learnt to pray,
And honour'd was the Sabbath's rest,
As though 't had been a princely guest,
And honoured was the Church's chime,
As Nature's self had fixed the time.
Up o'er the hill and down the lane,
In summer as in winter bare,
The mother walked, and little Jane,
Toward their ancient house of prayer;
She busy-minded in such wise
To frame her words and her replies,
With all instruction strict and mild,
That well might guard her little child.
And when that gentle mother died,
Her kindred offered Jane a home,
And thus were solaced, side by side,
To tend the orphan with their own.
But faces strange the maiden found,
On strangest things she gazed around,
And all her words were checked by fear,
For no sweet mother now gazed near.
And once upon the Sunday morn,
Their Church's bells again came ringing,
Up upon the breezes borne,

Gaily through the country singing:
Upon that little ear they came,
And Jane went forth-for 'twas the same
As ever she had done before,
And quietly she left the door.

She did not think that she should find
Her mother in that Church again;
But something was there in her mind
About her mother, nought of pain.
The hill and lane she travelled o'er,
From bee and butterfly a store
Of kindliness and comfort she
Was drinking in, all silently.
Across the churchyard now she went,
Above the tombstones scarcely seen,
The little maiden, all intent
Upon her pilgrimage had been.
The Church-door open wide and high
Now stood before the maiden's eye;
Most wide and high, but all serene
Was little Jane on entering in.
The congregation with surprise
The orphan see and all alone;
And many were the wondering eyes
The little one now looked upon;
Her calmness turned to dread and awe
At all she heard and all she saw :
Straight to her mother's place she's led,
And showers of tears the maiden shed.

MUIR-SHOOTING.

M. H.

HE's awa', awa' ow'r the heathery hill,
Exulting i' freedom o' power an' will;
He roams the wild muir wi' a joyous tread,
An' the muir-fowl spring fra' their purple bed;
At the whirr o' their wing glints his markfu' e'e,
An' the puir wild bird for his sport maun d'e.

O! blithe is the sportsman's heart i' the morn
An' lightly's the gun ow'r his shoulther borne;
He recks not o' death to the puir wild bird
When the airlie hymn o' the wind is heard,
When the hum o' the wild bee, the low o' the kye,
Wi' the whimplin' burn join their melody.

He recks not o' death when the noontide glare
Mak's the bield o' the shielin' sae welcome there,
As, stretched i' the silent an' lazy noon,

He counts the baukies his head aboon,

When the kye, an' the wind, an' the wild bee are still,
An' a' thing is hushed save the flow o' the rill.

He recks not o' death when a faery dream
Keeps time to the music o' th' ripplin' stream,
An' partly i' slumber, i' mockery part,
He dallys wi' images dear to his heart,
Till a distant shot the slight glamour breaks,
An' starting afresh fra' that dream he wakes.

He's awa' ance mair ower the heathery brae
To follow his sport till the gloaming gray;
Till shadows come flittin' across the muir,
An' the croonin' wind strives to raise the stoor;
Till drap after drap fra' the black clouds fa'
An' wearied he turns to his Hieland Ha'.

Miscellaneous.

"I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that tics them."-Montaigne.

FOR the attainment of correctness and purity in the use of words, the rules of grammarians and of critics may be a sufficient guide; but it is not in the works of this class of authors that the higher beauties of style are to be studied. As the air and manner of a gentleman can be acquired only by living habitually in the best society, so grace in composition must be attained by an habitual acquaintance with classical writers. It is, indeed, necessary for our information, that we should peruse occasionally many books which have no merit in point of expression; but I believe it to be extremely useful to all literary men, to counteract the effect of this miscellaneous reading, by maintaining a constant and familiar acquaintance with a few of the most faultless models which the language affords. For want of some standard of this sort, we frequently see an author's taste in writing alter, much to the worse, in the course of his life; and his later productions fall below the level of his early essays. D'Alembert tells us, that Voltaire had always lying on his table the Petit Carême of Massillon and the tragedies of Racine; the former to fix his taste in prose composition, and the latter in poetry.-Stewart.

WOMEN, in all countries, are civil, obliging, tender, and humane: they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and prudent, and they do not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action; more liable, perhaps, to err than men, but in general more disinterested, more virtuous, and performing more good actions than men. In my extensive wanderings in foreign climes, if hungry, thirsty, wet, cold, or sick, Woman has ever been friendly to me, most uniformly so.-Ledyard.

:

GETTING money is not all a man's business to cultivate kindness is a great part of the business of life. Johnson.

Ir is the unhappy chance of many men, finding many inconveniences on the mountains of single life, they descend into the valleys of marriage to refresh their troubles, and there they enter into fetters, and are bound to sorrow by the cords of a man's or woman's peevishness; and the worst of the evil is, they are to thank their own follies; for they fell into the snare by entering an improper way. Christ and the Church were no ingredients in their choice.- Bishop Jeremy Taylor.

SUICIDE is not to fear death, but yet to be afraid of life. It is a brave act of valour to contemn death; but, where life is more terrible than death, it is then the truest valour to dare to live; and herein religion hath taught us a noble example, for all the valiant acts of Curtius, Scævola, or Codrus, do not parellel or match that one of Job.-Sir Thomas Brown.

NEVER do any thing that can denote an angry mind; for, although every body is born with a certain degree of passion, and, from untoward circumstances, will sometimes feel its operation, and be what they call "out of humour," yet a sensible man or woman will never allow it to be discovered. Check and restrain it; never make any determination until you find it has entirely subsided; and always avoid saying any thing that you may wish unsaid.-Lord Collingwood.

His wit did not require the foil of deformity to give it splendour; its brilliancy was best displayed in illustrating beauty, for which he had the keenest relish. He possessed one of the most amusing faculties of wit, a lively sense of the ridiculous; but he would laugh at folly, without exciting anger or fear; could be just, without an air of severity; entertaining, without satire, and brilliant, without sarcasm. No inan ever lived more in society, or shone more in conversation; yet it would be difficult, I should say, impossible, to ascribe a sentiment, or even an original sentence to him, the least tinctured with envy, malice, or uncharitableness.--Life of Mackintosh.

WE may certainly conclude that God would not remove good men out of this world, were this the happiest place. Sherlock.

THE common course of things is in favour of happiness happiness is the rule, misery the exception. Were the order reversed, our attention would be called to examples of health and competency, instead of disease and want.-Paley.

I CONSIDER Very testy and quarrelsome people in the same light as I do a loaded gun, which may by accident go off and kill us.—Goldsmith.

EVERY one is forward to complain of the prejudices that mislead other men or parties, as if he were free, and had none of his own.-Locke.

than Heaven would cost them; and when they have it, MANY men take a great deal more pains for this world do not know how to live to enjoy it.-Sherlock.

No. 41.]

THE CINQUE PORTS.

INTRODUCTORY.

KENT-the scene of so many high and stirring memorics-Kent

"that doth advance

Her haughty brow against the coasts of France;" Kent-the arena of many of the bloodiest conflicts in which Britain ever engaged-the scene of many of her noblest victories—the spot of many of her most glorious triumphs-the theatre of her highest renown, of her proudest achievements-"the lock and key of the whole island"-and, more than all, the honoured pathway through which traversed the feet of them "who brought glad tidings"-Kent, as might be predicted from all these circumstances, is peculiarly happy in natural position. She is literally, as well as metaphorically, the "garden of England."

The general aspect of Kent is very beautiful, from the inequality of surface, the diversity of scenery, the variety of verdure with which the whole country is robed, and the magnificent ocean which foams and dashes around

her shores. Her hills are lofty, healthy, breczy, and yet so happy in climate as to give no idea of the sterility or frowning horror which invests the mountains of the less favoured northern counties. Here, what may be lost to the eye in sublimity, is fully atoned to the heart in fertility and beauty. Her vallies are soft, fertile and luxurious; varied and adorned by flowing sparkling rivers, luxuriant meads, waving cornand teeming orchards. fields, productive hop-gardens, (the English vineyard,)

"The commodities of Kent," says Leland, "are fertilite, wood, pasture, catel, fisch, foule, rivers, havens with shippes emong the V. ports most famous, and royale castelles and tounes, and the faith of Christe there firste restorid. Cæsar, in V.libro de Bello Gallico, praysith the humanite of the Kentisch men. The kyng1 himself was born in Kent. Kent is the key of all Englande."

This ever reiterated characteristic of Kent, the "key" of England, is partly, no doubt, caused by a natural peculiarity. Her lofty cliffs, if not terrific, are yet most

(1) Henry VIII.