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JULY.
Our saxon fathers did full rightly call
This month of July " Hay-monath,” when all
The verdure of the full clothed fields we mow,
And turn, and rake, and carry off;
We build it up, in large and solid mows.
If it be good, as every body knows,
To “ make bay while the sun shines,” we should choose

Right “ times for all things," and no time abuse. In July we have full summer. The nature. “The rye is yellow, and almost “ Mirror of the Months" presents its ripe for the sickle. The wheat and barrarious influences on the open face of ley are of a dull green, from their swelling ears being alone visible, as they bow be- walls of many-coloured and many-shaped fore every breeze that blows over them. leaves, from the fine filigree-work of the The oats are whitening apace, and quiver, white-thorn, to the large, coarse, round each individual grain on its light stem, as leaves of the hazel) we shall find the most they hang like rain-drops in the air. remarkable of these, winding up intriLooked on separately, and at a distance, cately among the crowded branches, and these three now wear a somewhat dull shooting out their flowers and there, and monotonous hue, when growing in among other leaves than their own, or great spaces; but these will be intersected, hanging themselves into festoons and in all directions, by patches of the bril- fringes on the outside, by unseen tendrils. liant emerald which now begins to spring Most conspicuous among the first of these afresh on the late-mown meadows; by is the great bind-weed, thrusting out its the golden yellow of the rye, in some elegantly-formed snow-white flowers, but cases cut, and standing in sheaves ; by carefully concealing its leaves and stem in the rich dark green of the turnip-fields; the thick of the shrubs which yield it supand still more brilliantly by sweeps, here port. Nearer to the ground, and more and there, of the bright yellow charlock, exposed, we shall meet with a handsome the scarlet corn-poppy, and the blue suc- relative of the above, the common red cory, which, like perverse beauties, scatter and white wild convolvolus ; while all the stray gifts of their charms in propor- along the face of the hedge, clinging to it tion as the soil cannot afford to support lightly, the various coloured vetches, and the expenses attendant on them.” the enchanter's night-shade, hang their "*

On the high downs, “ all the little flowers into the open air; the first exmolehills are purple with the flowers of quisitely fashioned, with wings like the the wild thyme, which exhales its rich pea, only smaller; and the other elaborate aromatic odour as you press it with your in its construction, and even beautiful, feet; and among it the elegant blue with its rich purple petals turned back to heath-bell is nodding its half-dependent 'expose a centre of deep yellow; but still, head from its almost invisible stem,-its with all its beauty, not without a strange perpetual motion, at the slightest breath and sinister look, which at once points it of air, giving it the look of a living thing out as a poison-flower. It is this which hovering on invisible wings just above afterwards turns to those bunches of the ground. Every here and there, too, scarlet berries which hang so temptingly we meet with little patches of dark green in autumn, just within the reach of little heaths, hung all over with their clusters of children, and which it requires all the exquisitely wrought filigree flowers, end- eloquence of their grandmothers to preless in the variety of their forms, but all vent them from tasting. In the midst of of the most curiously delicate fabric, and these, and above them all, the woodbine all, in their minute beauty, unparalleled now hangs out its flowers more profusely by the proudest occupiers of the parterre. than ever, and rivals in sweetness all the This is the singular family of plants that, other field scents of this month. when cultivated in pots, and trained to “On the bank from which the hedgeform heads on separate stems, give one row rises, and on this side of the now the idea of the forest trees of a Lilliputian nearly dry water-channel beneath, fringpeople.” Here, too, are the “innum- ing the border of the green path on which erable little thread-like spikes that now we are walking, a most rich variety of rise from out the level turf, with scarcely field-flowers will also now be found. We perceptible seed-heads at top, and keep dare not stay to notice the half of them, the otherwise dead flat perpetually alive, because their beauties, though even more by bending and twinkling beneath the exquisite than those hitherto described, sun and breeze."

are of that unobtrusive nature that you In the green lanes “ we shall find the must stoop to pick them up, and must ground beneath our feet, the hedges come to an actual commune with them, that enclose us on either side, and the before they can be even seen distinctly; dry banks and damp ditches beneath which is more than our desuitory and them, clothed in a beautiful variety of fugitive gaze will permit,—the plan of our flowers that we have not yet had an op- walk only allowing us to pay the passing portunity of noticing. In the hedge-rows homage of a word to those objects that (which are now grown into impervious will not be overlooked. Many of the

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exquisite little flowers, now alluded to chor, and making visible, as it ripples by generally, look, as they lie among their it, the elsewhere imperceptible current. low leaves, only like minute morsels of Nothing can be more elegant than each many-coloured glass scattered upon the of the three different states under which green ground-scarlet, and sapphire, and this flower now appears; the first, while rose, and purple, and white, and azure, it lies unopened among its undulating and golden. But pick them up, and leaves, like the halcyon's egg within its bring them towards the eye, and you will floating nest; next, when its' snowy find them pencilled with a thousand petals are but half expanded, and you dainty devices, and elaborated into the are almost tempted to wonder what beaumost exquisite forms and fancies, fit to be tiful bird it is that has just taken its strung into necklaces for fairy Titania, or flight from such a sweet birth-place; and set in broaches and bracelets for the neat- lastly, when the whole flower floats conest-handed of her nymphs.

fessed, and spreading wide upon the “But there are many others that come water its pointed petals, offers its whole into bloom this month, some of which heart to the enamoured sun. There is I we cannot pass unnoticed if we would. know not what of awful in the beauty of Conspicuous among them are the cen- this flower. It is, to all other flowers, taury, with its elegant cluster of small, what Mrs. Siddons is to all other wo pink, star-like flowers; the ladies' bed- men.' straw, with its rich yellow tufts; the meadow-sweet-sweetest of all the sweetners of the meadows; the wood betony,

July 1. lifting up its handsome head of rose

CockLETOP. coloured blossoms; and, still in full per

Munden.-Farren. fection, and towering up from among the July 1, 1826.—Mr. Farren appeared in low groundlings that usually surround it, the part of Old Cockletop, in O'Keefe's the stately fox-glove.

farce of Modern Antiques, at the Hay“ Among the other plants that now be market theatre. This will be recollected come conspicuous, the wild teasal must

as a crack character of Munden's; and it not be forgotten, if it be only on account was one which he had hit so happily, of the use that one of the summer's pret- that it became almost impossible for any tiest denizens sometimes makes of it. The other actor to play it very successfully wild teasal (which now puts on as much after him. There was a sort of elfin the appearance of a flower as its rugged antic-a kind of immateriality about the nature will let it) is that species of thistle crotchets of Munden in Cockletop. His which shoots up a strong serrated stem, brain seemed to have no more substance straight as an arrow, and beset on all in it than the web of a spider; and he sides by hard sharp-pointed thorns, and looked dried up in body and mind, bearing on its summit a hollow egg- almost to a transparency; he might have shaped head, also covered at all points stood in a window and not been in the with the same armour of threatening way you could see the light through him. thorns-as hard, as thickly set, and as Farren is the bitterest old rascal on the sharp as a porcupine's quills. Often stage. He looks, and moves always, as within this fortress, impregnable to birds, if he had a blister (that wanted fresh bees, and even to mischievous boys dressing) behind each ear; but he does themselves, that beautiful moth which not touch the entirely withered, crazyflutters about so gaily during the first brained, semi-bedlamite old rogue, in the weeks of summer, on snow-white wings way that Munden did. Munden conspotted all over with black and yellow, trived to give all the weakness possible to takes up its final abode, -retiring thither extreme age in Cockletop, without excitwhen weary of its desultory wanderings, ing an iota of compassion. All that there and after having prepared for the perpe was of him was dry bones and wickedtuation of its ephemeral race, sleeping ness. You could not help seeing that he itself to death, to the rocking lullaby of would be particularly comical under the the breeze.

torture; and you could not feel the “Now, too, if we pass near some slightest compunction in ordering that he gentiy lapsing water, we may chance to should undergo it. There never was any meet with the splendid flowers of the thing like his walking up and down great water lily, finating on the surface of the stream like some fairy vessel at an

* Mirror of the Months.

Drury-.ane stage in astonishment, and like his may use a latitude: he has origiconcluding he must be “at next door," nality enough to warrant his at least not when he returns home from his journey, avoiding the device which has been used and finds all his servants in mourning! by any actor, purely because it has been And the cloak that he wore too! And used by somebody else before him. Some the appendage that he called his “storm- passages that he gave were quite as good cap!" He looked like a large ape's skin as Munden. In the scene where he fan. stuffed with hay, ready to hang up in an . cies himself taken ill, the pit was in two apothecary's shop! You ran over all minds to get up and cheer. He made a the old fools that you knew, one after the face like a bear troubled suddenly with other, to recollect somebody like him, but symptoms of internal commotion! one could not succeed! Farren plays Fore- who had eaten a bee-hive for the sake of sight as well as Munden ; and he plays the honey, and began to have inward Cockletop very successfully; but it is misgivings that there must have been bees hardly possible for one eminent actor to mixed up along with it. And Farren follow another in trifling characters, possesses the gift too-a most valuable where the first has made a hit rather by one in playing to an English audience his own inventions than by any thing of exhibiting the suffering without excitwhich the author has set down for him. ing the smallest sympathy! Whenever Munden's dancing in the ghost-scene with there is any thing the matter with him, the servants, and his conclusion-striking you hope he'll get worse with all your an attitude, with the fingers of one hand soul; and, if he were drowning-with open like a bunch of radish, as the fiddler, that face!—he must die :-you could not, used to keep the audience in convulsions if you were to die yourself, take one step, for two minutes. Farren avoided this for laughing, to save him.* trick, probably lest he should be charged with imitation; but acknowledged talent

* The Times, July 3, 1826.

July.
The sun comes on apace, and thro' the signs

Travels unwearied; as he hotter grows,
Above, the herbage, and beneath, the mines,

Own bis warm influence, while his axle glows;
The flarning lion meets him on the way,
Proud to receive the flaming god of day.
In fullest bloom the damask rose is seen,

Carpations boast their variegated die,
The fields of corn display a vivid green,

And cherries with the crimson orient vie,
The hop in blossom climbs the lofty pole,
Nor dreads the lightning, tho' the thunders roll.
The wealth of Flora like the rainbow shows,

Blending her various hues of light and shade,
How many tints would emulate the rose,

Or imitate the lily's bright parade!
The flowers of topaz and of sapphire vie
With all the richest tinctures of the sky.
The vegetable world is all alive,

Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn,
The infant bees now swarm around the hive,

And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn,
Millions of embryos take the wing to fly,
The young inherit, and the old ones die.
'Tis summer all-convey me to the bower,

The bower of myrtle form’d by Myra's skill,
There let me waste away the noontide hour,

Fann'd by the breezes from yon cooling rill,
By Myra's side reclin'd, the burning ray
Shall be as grateful as the cool of day.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Magazine" for 1741, as also is the folMean Temperature ...61 . 07. lowing :

On the same day, in the same year, the

earl of Halifax married Miss Dunck, July 2.

with a fortune of one hundred thousand

pounds. It appears that, “ according to Will Wimble.

the will of Mr. Dunck, this lady was to On the second of July, 1741, died at marry none but an honest tradesman, Dublin, Mr. Thomas Morecroft, “a

who was to take the name of Dunck; for baronet's younger son, the person men

which reason his lordship took the freetioned by the Spectator' in the character dom of the sadlers' company, exercised of Will Wimble.

the trade, and added the name to his This notice is from the “ Gentleman's own.”

(For the Every-Day Book.) A SHORTE AND SWEETE SONNETT ON THE SUBTILTIE OF LOVE.

By CORNELIUS MAY.
Fromthe Seven Starres of Witte.”
You cannot barre love oute

Father, mother and you alle,
For marke mee he's a crafty boy,

And his limbes are very smalle ;
He's lighter than the thistle downe,

He's feeter than the dove,
His voice is like the nightingale ;

And oh! beware of love!
For love can masquerade

When the wisest doe not see ;
He has gone to many a blessed sainte

Like a virgin devotee;
He has stolen thro' the convent grate,

A painted butterfly,
And I've seene in many a mantle's fold

His twinkling roguish eye.
He'll come doe what you will;

The Pope cannot keepe him oute;
And of late he's learnt such evill waies

You must hold his oathe in doute :
From the lawyers he has learned

Like Judas to betraye ;
From the monkes to live like martyred saintre

Yet cast their soules awaye.
He has beene at courte soe long

That he weares the courtier's smije ;
For every maid he has a lure,

For every man a wile;
Philosophers and alchymistes

Your idle toile give o'er,
Young love is wiser than ye alle

And teaches ten times more.

Strong barres and boltes are vaine

To keepe the urchin in,
For while the goaler turned the keye

He would trapp him in his gin.

Vol. II.--81.

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