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Full forty days after it will,

Or more or less, some rain distill.
This Swithin was a saint, I trow,
And Winchester's bishop also.
Who in his time did many a feat,
As popish legends do repeat:
A woman having broke her eggs
By stumbling at another's legs,
For which she made a woful cry,
St., Swithin chanc'd for to come by,
Who made them all as sound, or more
Than ever that they were before.
But whether this were so or no
"Tis more than you or I do know:
Better it is to rise betime,

And to make hay while sun doth shine,
Than to believe in tales and lies
Which idle monks and friars devise."

The satirical Churchill also mentions the superstitious notions concerning rain on this day:

"July, to whom, the dog-star in her train, St. James gives oisters, and St. Swithin

rain."

The same legend is recorded by Mr. Brand, from a memorandum by Mr. Douce: "I have heard these lines upon St. Swithin's day :

"St. Swithin's day if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain :
St. Swithin's day if thou be fair
For forty days 't will rain na mair.

Ben Jonson, in "Every man out of his humour," has a touch at almanac-wisdom, and on St. Swithin's power over the

weather:

"Enter Sordido, Macilente, Hine. "Sord.-(looking at an almanac)—O

rare! good, good, good, good, good! I thank my stars, I thank my stars for it. "Maci.-(aside)-Said I not true? 'tis Sordido, the farmer,

A boar, and brother, to that swine was here.

"Sord. Excellent, excellent, excellent! as I could wish, as I could wish!-Ha, ha, ha! I will not sow my grounds this year. Let me see what harvest shall we have? June, July, August ?

"Maci:-(aside)-What is't, a prognostication raps him so?

"Sord.-(reading)—The xx, xx1, xxii days, Rain and Wind; O good, good! the xxiii and xxiv Rain and some Wind: the xxv, Rain, good still! xxvi, xxvii, xxviii, wind and some rain; would it had been rain and some wind; well, 'tis good (when it can be no better ;) xxix inclining to rain: inclining to rain? that's not so good now: xxx and xxxi wind and no rain: no rain? 'Slid stay; this is worse Swithin's? turn back, look, Saint Swithand worse: what says he of Saint in's: no rain?-O, here, Saint Swithin's, the xv day; variable weather, for the most part rain, good; for the most part rain: why, it should rain forty days after, now, more or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a plough, and yet here are two days, no rain; ha! it makes me muse."

Gay, whilst he admonishes against falling into the vulgar superstition, reminds his readers of necessary precautions in a wet season, which make us smile, who forbear from hats to loop and unloop, and do not wear wigs :

Now, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours,
And every penthouse streams with hasty showers,
Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain
And wash the pavements with incessant rain.
Let not such vulgar tales debase thy mind;
Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind
If you the precepts of the Muse despise,
And slight the faithful warning of the skies,
Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat,
Wrapt in the embraces of a kersey coat,
Or double bottomed frieze; their guarded feet
Defy the muddy dangers of the street;
While you, with hat unlooped, the fury dread
Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious tread
Shun every dashing pool, or idly stop,
To seek the kind protection of a shop.
But business summons; now with hasty scud
You jostle for the wall; the spattered mud
Hides all thy hose behind; in vain you sconr
Thy wig, alas! uncurled, admits the shower.

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So fierce Electo's snaky tresses fell,
When Orpheus charmed the rigorous powers of hell;
Or thus hung Glaucus' beard, with briny dew
Clotted and straight, when first his amorous view
Surprised the bathing fair; the frighted maid
Now stands a rock, transformed by Circe's aid.

Dr. Forster, in his "Perennial Calendar," cites from Mr. Howard's work on the climate of London the following"Examination of the popular Adage of Forty Days' Rain after St. Swithin' how far it may be founded in fact."

The opinion of the people on subjects connected with natural history is commonly founded in some degree on fact or experience; though in this case vague and inconsistent conclusions are too frequently drawn from real premises. The notion commonly entertained on this subject, if put strictly to the test of experience at any one station in this part of the island, will be found fallacious. To do justice to popular observation, I may now state, that in a majority of our summers, a showery period, which, with some latitude as to time and local circumstances, may be admitted to constitute daily rain for forty days, does come on about the time indicated by this tradition: not that any long space before is often so dry as to mark distinctly its commence

ment.

The tradition, it seems, took origin from the following circumstances. Swithin or Swithum, bishop of Winchester, who died in 868, desired that he might be buried in the open churchyard, and not in the chancel of the minster, as was usual with other bishops, and his request was complied with; but the monks, on his being canonized, considering it disgraceful for the saint to lie in a public cemetery, resolved to remove his body into the choir, which was to have been done with solemn procession, on the 15th of July: it rained, however, so violently for forty days together at this season, that the design was abandoned. Now, without entering into the case of the bishop, who was probably a man of sense, and wished to set the example of a more wholesome, as well as a more hunible, mode of resigning the perishable clay to the destructive elements, I may observe, that the fact of the hinderance of the ceremony by the cause related is sufficiently authenticated by tradition;

and the tradition is so far valuable, as it proves that the summers in this southern part of our island were subject a thousand years ago to occasional heavy rains, in the in point of fact, the matter now stands. same way as at present. Let us see how,

In 1807, it rained with us on the day in question, and a dry time followed. In 1808, it again rained on this day, though but a few drops: there was much lightning in the west at night, yet it was nearly dry to the close of the lunar period, at the new moon, on the 22d of this month, the whole period having yielded only a quarter of an inch of rain; but the next moon was very wet, and there fell 5.10 inches of rain.

In 1818 and 1819, it was dry on the 15th, and a very dry time in each case followed. The remainder of the summers occurring betwixt 1807 and 1819, appear to come under the general proposition already advanced: but it must be observed, that in 1816, the wettest year of the series, the solstitial abundance of rain belongs to the lunar period, ending, with the moon's approach to the third quarter, on the 16th of the seventh month; in which period there fell 5.13 inches, while the ensuing period, which falls wholly within the forty days, though it had rain on twenty-five out of thirty days, gave only 2.41 inches.

I have paid no regard to the change effected in the relative position of this so much noted day by the reformation of the calendar, because common observation is now directed to the day as we find it in the almanac; nor would this piece of accuracy, without greater certainty as to a definite commencement of this showery period in former times, have helped us to more conclusive reasoning on the subject.

Solstitial and Equinoctial Rains.—Our year, then, in respect of quantities of rain, exhibits a dry and a wet moiety. The latter again divides itself into two periods distinctly marked. The first period is that which connects itself with the popular opinion we have been discussing

It may be said on the whole, to set in with the decline of the diurnal mean temperature, the maximum of which, we may recollect, has been shown to follow the summer solstice at such an interval as to fall between the 12th and 25th of the month called July. Now the 15th of that month, or Swithin's day in the old style, corresponds to the 26th in the new; so that common observation has long since settled the limits of the effect, without being sensible of its real causes. The operation of this cause being continued usually through great part of the eighth month, the rain of this month exceeds the mean by about as much as that of the ninth falls below it.

As regards St. Swithin and his day, it may be observed, that according to bishop Hall when Swithin died, he directed that "his body should not be laid within the church, but where the drops of rain might wet his grave; thinking that no vault was so good to cover his grave as that of heaven." This is scarcely an exposition of the old saying, which, like other old sayings, still has its votaries. It is yet common on this day to say, "Ah! this is St. Swithin; I wonder whether it will rain?" An old lady who so far observed this festival, on one occasion when it was fair and sunshiny till the afternoon, predicted fair weather; but tea-time came,

and

"there follow'd some droppings of rain." This was quite enough. "Ah!" said she, "now we shall have rain every day for forty days;" nor would she be persuaded of the contrary. Forty days of our humid climate passed, and many, by their having been perfectly dry, falsified her prediction. "Nay, nay," said she, "but there was wet in the night, depend upon it." According to such persons St. Swithin cannot err.

It appears from the parish accounts of Kingston upon Thames,in 1508, that "any householder kepying a brode gate" was to pay to the parish priest's "wages 3d." with a halfpenny "to the paschall: " this was the great wax taper in the church; the halfpenny was towards its purchase and maintaining its light; also he was to give to St. Swithin a halfpenny. A holder of one tenement paid twopence to the priest's wages, a halfpenny to the " pas chall;" likewise St. Swithin a halfpenny. Rain on St. Swithin's day is noticed in

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July, 1817.-A man of imposing figure, wearing a large sabre and immense mustachios, arrived at one of the principal inns of a provincial city, with a female of agreeable shape and enchanting mein. He alighted at the moment that dinner his martial appearance all the guests rose was serving up at the table d'hote. At with respect; they felt assured that it must be a lieutenant-general, or a major

general at least. A new governor was expected in the province about this time, who had arrived incognito. The officer and every body believed that it was he of gendarmerie gave him the place of honour, the comptroller of the customs and the receiver of taxes sat by the side of lantry to the utmost. All the tit-bits, all Madame, and exerted their wit and galthe most exquisite wines, were placed before the fortunate couple. At length the party broke up, and every one ran to report through the city that Monsieur the governor had arrived. But, oh! what was their surprise, when the next day "his excellence," clad in a scarlet coat, and his august companion dressed out in a gown glittering with tinsel, mounted a small open calash, and preceded by some musicians, went about the squares and public ways, selling Swiss tea and balm of Mecca. Imagine the fury of the guests! They complained to the mayor, and demanded that the audacious quack should be compelled to lay aside the characteristic mark of the brave. The prudent magistrate assembled the common council; and those respectable persons, after a long deliberation, considering that nothing in the charter forbad the citizens to let their beard grow on their upper lip, dismissed the complaint altogether. The same evening the supposed governor gave a serenade to the complainants, and the next day took his leave, and continued

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Mackerel.

In

The mackerel season is one of great interest on the coast, where these beautiful fish are caught. The going out and coming in of the boats are really "sights." The prices of mackerel vary according to the different degrees of success. 1807, the first Brighton boat of mackerel, on the 14th of May, sold at Billingsgate, for forty guineas per hundred, seven shillings each, the highest price ever known at that market. The next boat that came in reduced their value to thirteen guineas per hundred. In 1808, these fish were caught so plentifully at Dover, that they sold sixty for a shilling. At Brighton, in June, the same year, the shoal of mackerel was so great, that one of the boats had the meshes of her nets so completely occupied by them, that it was impossible to drag them in. The fish and nets, therefore, in the end sank together; the fisherman thereby sustaining a loss of nearly sixty pounds, exclusive of what his cargo, could he have got it into the boat, would have produced. The success of the fishery in 1821, was beyond all precedent. The value of the catch of sixteen boats from Lowestoff, on the 30th of June, amounted to 5,252l. 15s. 14d., being an average of 3281. 5s. 114d. per each boat; and it is supposed that there was no less a sum than 14,000l. altogether realized by the owners and men concerned in the fishery of the Suffolk coast.†

Journal des Debats. ↑ Daniel's Rural Sports.

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Bemoistening sop his hardened shoes While every leaf that forms a shade,

And every floweret's silken top,
And every shivering bent and blade,
Stoops, bowing with a diamond drop.
But soon shall fly those diamond drops,
The red round sun advances higher,
And, stretching o'er the mountain tops,
Is gilding sweet the village-spire.
'Tis sweet to meet the morning breeze,

Or list the gurgling of the brook;
Or, stretched beneath the shade of trees,
Peruse and pause on Nature's book,
When Nature every sweet prepares
The images which morning wears,
To entertain our wished delay,-
The wakening charms of early day!
Now let me tread the meadow paths

As, sprinkled o'er the withering swaths,
While glittering dew the ground illumes,
Their moisture shrinks in sweet per
fumes;
And hear the beetle sound his horn;

And hear the skylark whistling nigh,
Sprung from his bed of tufted corn,
A hailing minstrel in the sky.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Autumn Marigold.

Clare.

Chrysanthemum cɔ

ronarium. Dedicated to St. Bruno.

July 19.

St. Vincent, of Paul, A. D. 1660. St. Arsenius, A. D. 449. St. Symmachus, Pope, A. D. 514. St. Macrina V., D.

379.

In July, 1797, as Mr. Wright, of Saint Faith's, in Norwich, was walking in his garden, a flight of bees alighted on his head, and entirely covered his hair, till they made an appearance like a judge's wig. Mr. W. stood upwards of two hours in this situation, while the customary means were used for hiving them, which was completely done without his receiving any injury. Mr. Wright had expressed a strong wish, for some days before, that a flight of bees might come on his premises.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Play on the drowsy ear of night,
Gushing at times into the light
From out their beds, and hastening al
To join the trembling waterfall.
Fair planet! when I watch on high,
Star-heralded along the sky,
That face of light and holiness,
turn, and all my brethren bless
And it must be-(the hour is gone
When the fair world thou smilest upon,
Lay chained in darkness,) thou wert sent
Ministering in the firmament,
To be calm, beautiful, above-
The eye of universal love.

I

'Twere good to die in such an hour,

Golden Hawkweed. Hieracium Auran- And rest beneath the almighty power,

tiacum.

Dedicated to St. Vincent of Paul.

July 20

St. Joseph Barsabas, the Disciple. St.
Margaret, of Antioch. Sts. Justa and
Rufina, A. D. 304. St. Ceslas, A. D.
1242. St. Aurelius, Abp., A. D. 423.
St. Ulmar, or Wulmar, A. D. 710. St.
Jerom Emiliani, A. D. 1537.

Midnight and the Moon.

Now sleep is busy with the world,

The moon and midnight come; and curl'd
Are the light shadows round the hills;
The many-tongued and babbling rills

(Beside yon ruin still and rude)
Of beauty and of solitude.

Literary Pocket Book.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Virginian Dragon's Head. Dracocepha lus Virginianum.

Dedicated to St. Margaret.

July 21.

St. Praxedes. St. Zodicus, Bp., ▲. D. 204. St. Barhadbesciabas, A.D. 354. St. Victor, of Marseilles. St. Arbogastus, Bp. A. D. 678.

Flowers.

A sensitive plant in a garden grew
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fanlike leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
And the spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the spirit of love felt every where;

And each flower and shrub on earth's dark breast,

Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

But none ever trembled and panted with bliss,

In the garden, the field, or the wilderness,

Like a doe in the noontide with love's sweet want,
As the companionless sensitive plant.

The snowdrop, and then the violet,

Arose from the ground with warm rain wet,

And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, sent,
From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.

Then the pied windflowers, and the tulip tall,
And narcissi, the fairest among them all,
Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess,
Till they die of their own dear loveliness.

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