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FLORAL DIRECTORY,

Polyanthus. Primula polyantha. Dedicated to St. Catherine de Ricci.

February 14.

VALENTINE'S DAY.

St. Valentine. St. Maro, A. D. 433.
St. Abraames, A. D. 422. St. Au-

young persons, little is known, except that he was a priest of Rome, and martyred there about 270.

It was a custom with the ancient Roman youth to draw the names of girls in honour of their goddess Februata-Juno on the 15th of February, in exchange for which certain Roman catholic pastors substituted the names of saints in billets

gentius, 5th Cent. St. Conran, Bishop given the day before, namely, on the 14th of February.

of Orkney.

St. Valentine.

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mean," said the old gentleman, and taking a paper from a drawer, he held up this exemplification :

Just then an unmarried gentleman, "of a certain age," entered the room. On becoming acquainted with the topic, he drew from his pocket a small packet, and said, with a merry smile, "Here was my Valentine." It contained a rib of some small animal completely enveloped with white satin ribbon, ornamented by a true lover's knot at each end, and another in the middle. Father and daughter both had a laugh at the "old bachelor," and he, laughing with them, put into the young lady's hand the poetical address that accompanied his rib:

Go contemplate this lovely sign!
Haste thee away to reason's shrine,
And listen to her voice;
No more illusive shades pursue,
To happiness this gives the clue,
Make but a prudent choice.
'Till Adam had a partner given,
Much as fair Eden bloom'd like heaven,
His bliss was incomplete;
No social friend those joys to share,
Gave the gay scene a vacant air!

She came 'twas all replete.
And could not genuine Paradise,
The most extensive wish suffice,

Its guiltless lord possest?
No-not without a kindred mate;
How then in this degen'rate state,
Can man, alone be blest?

But now the Muse withdraws her aid;
Enough, thy folly to upbraid;

Enough to make thee wise:
No more of pensive hours complain,
No more, that all life's joys are vain,
If thou this hint despise.
Feb. 13, 182-.

4 Friend.

"Well now, this is capital!" exclaimed the laughing lass. "After such a Valentine, you must take the hint, my dear sir: it's really a shame that so good-natured a man should remain a bachelor. I recollect, that when I could only just run about, you used to be so kind to me; besides, how you dandled and played with me! and since then, how you have read to me and instructed me till I grew up! Such a man is the very man to be married: you are every way domestic, and it's settled; you must get married."-" Well, then, will you have me?" he inquired, with a cheerful laugh. "I have you? No! Why, you are too old; but not too old to find a wife: there are many ladies whom we know, of your age, wholly disengaged; but you don't pay them any particular attention." Her father interposed; and the gentleman she addressed playfully said, "It is a little hard, indeed, that I should have these fine compliments and severe reproaches at the same time: however," taking her by the hand, "you will understand, that it is possible I may have paid particular attention to a lady at an age when the affections are warmer; I did; and I reconciled myself to rejection by courting my books and the pleasures of solitude

Hast thou been ever waking

From slumbers soft and light,
And heard sweet music breaking
The stillness of the night;
When all thy soul was blending
With that delightful strain,
And night her silence lending
To rivet fancy's chain;
Then on a sudden pausing,
Those strains have ceas'd to plav
A painful absence causing

Of bliss that died away!
So from my soul has vanish'd
The dream of youthful days;
So Hope and Love are banish'd,

And Truth her pow'r displays.

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The origin of so pleasant a day, the first pleasant day in the year, whether its season be regarded, or the mode of its celebration, requires some little investigation; nor must some of its past and present usages be unrecorded here.

St. Valentine's Morning.

Hark! through the sacred silence of the night

Loud chanticleer doth sound his clarion shrill, Hailing with song the first pale gleam of light Which floats the dark brow of yon eastern bill.

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Bright star of morn, oh! leave not yet the wave
To deck the dewy frontlet of the day;
Nor thou, Aurora, quit Tithonus' cave,
Nor drive retiring darkness yet away.

Ere these my rustic hands a garland twine,
Ere yet my tongue endite a single song,
For her I mean to hail my Valentine,
Sweet maiden, fairest of the virgin throng.

Attend we upon ELIA. Hark, how
triumphantly that noble herald of the
college of kindness proclaims the day!

"Hail to thy returning festival, old Bishop Valentine! Great is thy name in the rubric, thou venerable arch-flamen of Hymen! Immortal Go-between! who and what manner of person art thou? Art thou but a name, typifying the restless principle which impels poor humans to seek perfection in union? or wert thou indeed a mortal prelate, with thy tippet and thy rochet, thy apron on, and decent lawn sleeves? Mysterious personage! like nuto thee, assuredly, there is no other mitred father in the calendar.Thou comest attended with thousands and ten thousands of little Loves, and the air is

Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings; singing Cupids are thy choristers, and thy precentors; and instead of the crosier, the mystical arrow is borne before thee.

"In other woids, this is the day on which those charming little missives, ycleped Valentines, cross and intercross each other at every street and turning. The weary and all for-spent twopenny postman sinks beneath a load of delicate embarrassments, not his own. It is scarcely credible to what an extent this ephemeral courtship is carried on in this loving town. to the great enrichment of porters, and detriment of knockers and bell-wires. In these little visual interpretations, no emblem is so common as the heart, that little three-cornered exporent of all our hopes and fears,-the bestuck and bleeding heart; it is twisted and tortured into more allegories and affectations than an opera-hat. What authority we have in history or mythology for placing the head-quarters and metropolis of god Cupid in this anatomical seat rather than in any other, is not very clear; out we have got it, and it will serve as well as any other thing. Else we might easily imagine, upon some other system which might have prevailed for any thing which our pathology knows to the contrary, a lover addressing his mistress, in

Dodsley's Miscell.

perfect simplicity of feeling, Madam, my liver and fortune are entirely at your disposal or putting a delicate question, Amanda, have you a midriff to bestow?" But custom has settled these things, and awarded the seat of sentiment to the aforesaid triangle, while its less fortunate neighbours wait at animal and anatomical distance.

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"Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and all rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door. It

gives a very echo to the throne where Hope is seated.' But its issues seldom answer to this oracle within. It is so seldom that just the person we want to see comes. But of all the clamorous visitations, the welcomest in expectation is the sound that ushers in, or seems to usher in, a Valentine. As the raven himself was hoarse that announced the fatal entrance of Duncan, so the knock of the postman on this day is light, airy, confident, and befitting one that bringeth good tidings.' It is less mechanical than on other days; you will say, 'That is not the post, I am sure.' Visions of Love, of Cupids, of Hymens, and all hose delightful, eternal common-places, which

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having been, will always be;' which no schoolboy nor schoolman can write away; having their irreversible throne in the fancy and affections; what are your transports, when the happy maiden, opening with careful finger, careful not to break the emblematic seal, bursts upon the sight of some well-designed allegory, some type, some youthful fancy, not without

verses

Lovers all,
A madrigal,

or some such device, not over abundant in sense-young Love disclaims it,-and not quite silly-something between wind and water, a chorus where the sheep might almost join the shepherd, as they did, or as I apprehend they did, in Arcadia.

"All Valentines are not foolish, and I shall not easily forget thine, my kind friend (if I may have leave to call you

so) E. B.-E. B. lived opposite a young maiden, whom he had often seen, unseen, from his parlour window in C-e-street. She was all joyousness and innocence, and just of an age to enjoy receiving a Valentine, and just of a temper to bear the disappointment of missing one with good humour. E. B. is an artist of no common powers; in the fancy parts of designing, perhaps inferior to none; his name is known at the bottom of many a well-executed vignette in the way of his profession, but no further; for E. B. is modest, and the world meets nobody half-way. E. B. meditated how he could repay this young maiden for many a favour which she had done him unknown; for, when a kindly face greets us, though but passing by, and never knows us again, nor we it, we should feel it as an obligation; and E. B. did. This good artist set himself at work to please the damsel. It was just before Valentine's day three years since. He wrought unseen, and unsuspected, a wondrous work. We need not say it was on the finest gilt paper with borders-full, not of common hearts and heartless allegory, but all the prettiest stories of love from Ovid, and older poets than Ovid (for E. B. is a scholar.) There was Pyramus and Thisbe, and be sure Dido was not forgot, nor Hero and Leander, and swans more than sang in Cayster, with mottoes and fanciful devices, such as beseemed,-a work in short of magic. Iris dipt the woof. This on Valentine's eve he commended to the all-swallowing indiscriminate orifice-(0,ignoble trust!)—of the common post; but the humble medium did its duty, and from his watchful stand, the next morning, he saw the cheerful messenger knock, and by and by the precious charge delivered. He saw, unseen, the happy girl unfold the Valentine, dance about, clap her hands, as one after one the pretty emblems unfolded themselves. She danced about, not with light love, or foolish expectations, for she had no lover; or, if she had, none she knew that could have created those bright images which delighted her. It was more like some fairy present; a God-send, as our familiarly pious ancestors termed a benefit received, where the benefactor was unknown. It would do her no harm. It would do her good for ever after. It is good to love the unknown. I only give this as a specimen of E B., and his modest way of doing a concealed kindness.

"Good morrow to my Valentine, sings poor Ophelia; and no better wish, but with better auspices, we wish to all faithful lovers, who are not too wise to despise old legends, but are content to rank themselves humble diocesans with old Bishop Valentine, and his true church."

Mr. Douce, whose attainments include more erudition concerning the origin and progress of English customs than any other antiquarian possesses, must be referred to upon this occasion. He observes, in his "Illustrations of Shakspeare," concerning St. Valentine's day, that "it was the practice in ancient Rome, during a great part of the month of February, to celebrate the Lupercalia, which were feasts in honour of Pan and Juno, whence the latter deity was named Februata, Februalis, and Februlla. On this occasion, amidst a variety of ceremonies, the names of young women were put into a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed. The pastors of the early christian church, who by every possible means endeavoured to eradicate the vestiges of pagan superstitions, and chiefly by some commutations of their forms, substituted, in the present instance, the names of particular saints instead of those of the women, and as the festival of the Lupercalia had commenced about the middle of February, they appear to have chosen St. Valentine's day for celebrating the new feast, because it occurred nearly at the same time. This is, in part, the opinion of a learned and rational compiler of the Lives of the Saints,' the Rev. Alban Butler. It should seem, however, that it was utterly impossible to extirpate altogether any ceremony to which the common people had been much accustomed: a fact which it were easy to prove in tracing the origin of various other popular superstitions. And accordingly the outline of the ancient ceremonies was preserved, but modified by some adaptation to the christian system. It is reasonable to suppose that the above practice of choosing mates would gradually become reciprocal in the sexes; and that all persons so chosen would be called Valentines, from the day on which the ceremony took place."

Leaving intermediary facts to the curious inquirer, we come immediately to a few circumstances and sayings from grave authors and gay poets respecting

this festival, as it is observed in our own country. It is recorded as a rural tradition, that on St. Valentine's day each bird of the air chooses its mate; and hence it is presumed, that our homely ancestors, in their lusty youth, adopted a practice which we still find peculiar to a season when nature bursts its imprisonments for

the coming pleasures of the cheerful spring. Lydgate, the monk of Bury, who died in 1440, and is described by Warton to have been "not only the poet of his monastery, but of the world in general," has a poem in praise of queene Catherine, consort to Henry V., wherein he says:

Seynte Valentine. Of custome yeere by yeere
Men have an usaunce, in this regioun,
To loke and serche Cupides kalendere,

And chose theyr choyse, by grete affeccioun ;
Such as ben nove with Cupides mocioun,
Takyng theyre choyse as theyr sort doth falle :
But I love oon whiche excellith alle.

Chaucer imagines "Nature the vicare of the Almightie Lord," to address the

happiest of living things at this season,
the birds, thus:

Foules, take hede of my sentence I pray,
And for your own ease in fordring of your need,
As fast as I may speak 1 will me speed:
Ye know well, how on St. Valentine's day

By my statute and through my governaunce,
Ye doe chese your Makes, and after flie away
With hem as I move you with pleasaunce

*

Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,'
Which drivest away the long nightès black,
Thus singen smalle foules for thy sake,
Will have they cause for to gladden oft,
Since each of them recovered hath his Make:
Full blissful may they sing, when they awake.

Our young readers are informed, that the word "make" in Chaucer, now obsolete, signified mate.

Jago, a poet, who, if he has not soared to greatness, has at least attained to the easy versification of agreeable, and sometimes higher feelings, has left us a few stanzas, which harmonize with the suppositions of Chaucer :

St. Valentine's Day.

The tuneful choir in amorous strains
Accost their feathered loves;

While each fond mate, with equal pains,
The tender suit approves.

With cheerful hop from spray to spray
They sport along the meads;

In social bliss together stray,
Where love or fancy leads.

Then all the jocund scene declines,

Nor woods nor meads delight;
The drooping tribe in secret pines,
And mourns th' unwelcome sight.
Go, blissful warblers! timely wise,

Th' instructive moral tell;
Nor thou their meaning lays despise,
My charming Annabelle !

Old John Dunton's "British Apollo" sings a question and answer:

Why. Valentine's a day to choose
A mistress, and our freedom lose?
May I my reason interpose,
The question with an answer close?
To imitate we have a mind,
And couple like the winged kind.
Further on, in the same miscellany, is
another question and answer:

"Question. In chusing valentines (ac

Through Spring's gay scenes each happy pair cording to custom) is not the party chu

Their fluttering joys pursue;

Its various charms and produce share,
For ever kind and true.

Their sprightly notes from every shade
Their mutual loves proclaim;
Till Winter's chilling blasts invade,
And damp th' enlivening flame.

sing (be it man or woman) to make a present to the party chosen?

"Answer. We think it more proper to say, drawing of valentines, since the most customary way is for each to take his or her lot. And chance cannot be

termed choice. According to this me

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