The ears are fill'd, the fields are white,
The constant harvest-moon is bright.
To grasp the bounty of the year,
The reapers to the scene repair,
With hook in hand, and bottles slung,
and dowlas-scrips beside them hung.
The sickles stubble all the ground,
And fitful hasty laughs go round;
The meals are done as soon as tasted,
And neither time nor viands wasted.
All over—then, the barrels foam—
The "Largess"-cry, the "Harvest-home!"


The "Mirror of the Months" likens August to "that brief, but perhaps best period of human life, when the promises of youth are either fulfilled or forgotten, and the fears and forethoughts connected with decline have not yet grown strong enough to make themselves felt; and consequently when we have nothing to do but look around us, and be happy." For it is in this month that the year "like a man at forty, has turned the corner of its existence; but, like him, it may still fancy itself young, because it does not begin to feel itself getting old. And perhaps there is no period like this, for encouraging and bringing to perfection that habit of tranquil enjoyment, in which all true happiness must mainly consist: with pleasure it has, indeed, little to do; but with happiness it is every thing."

The author of the volume pursues his estimate by observing, that "August is that debateable ground of the year, 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 all its own, and which vie in beauty with those of the spring. May itself can offer nothing so sweet to the senses, so enchanting to the imagination, and so soothing to the heart, as that genial influence which arises from the sights, the sounds, and the associations, connected with an August evening in the country, when the occupations and pleasures of the day are done, and when all, even the busiest, are fain to give way to that 'wise passiveness,' one hour of which is rife with more real enjoyment than a whole season of revelry. Those who will be wise (or foolish) enough to make comparisons between the various kinds of pleasure of which the mind of man is capable, will find that there is none (or but one) equal to that felt by a true lover of nature, when he looks forth upon her open face silently, at a season like the present, and drinks in that still beauty which seems to emanate from every thing he sees, till his whole senses are steeped in a sweet forgetfullness, and he becomes unconscious of all but that instinct of good which is ever present with us, but which can so seldom make itself felt amid that throng of thoughts which are ever busying and besieging us, in our intercourse with the living world. The only other feeling which equals this, in its intense quietude, and its satisfying fulness, is one which is almost identical with it,—where the accepted lover is gazing unobserved, and almost unconsciously, on the face of his mistress, and tracing their sweet evidences of that mysterious union which already exists between them.

"The whole face of nature has undergone, since last month, an obvious change; obvious to those who delight to observe all her changes and operations, but not sufficiently striking to insist on being seen generally by those who can read no characters but such as are written in a text hand. If the general colours of all the various departments of natural scenery are not changed, their hues are; and if there is not yet observable the infinite variety of autumn, there is as little the extreme monotony of summer. In one department, however, there is a general change, that cannot well remain unobserved. The rich and unvarying green of the corn-fields has entirely and almost suddenly changed to a still richer and more conspicuous gold colour; more conspicuous on account of the contrast it now offers to the lines, patches, and masses of green with which it every where lies in contact, in the form of intersecting hedge-rows, intervening meadows, and bounding masses of forest. These latter are changed too; but in hue alone, not in colour. They are all of them still green; but it is not the fresh and tender green of the spring, nor the full and satisfying, though somewhat dull, green of the summer; but many greens, that blend all those belonging to the seasons just named, with others at once more grave and more bright; and the charming variety and interchange of which are peculiar to this delightful month, and are more beautiful in their general effect than those of either of the preceding periods: just as a truly beautiful woman is perhaps more beautiful at the period immediately before that at which her charms begin to wane, than she ever was before. Here, however, the comparison must end; for with the year its incipient decay is the signal for it to put on more and more beauties daily, till, when it reaches the period at which it is on the point of sinking into the temporary death of winter, it is more beautiful in general appearance than ever."



Though the origin of this denomination is related in vol. i. col. 1063, yet it seems proper to add that Lammas or Lambmas day obtained its name from a mass ordained to St. Peter, supplicating his benediction on lambs, in shearing season, to preserve them from catching cold. St. Peter became patron of lambs, from Christ's metaphorical expression, "Feed my lambs," having been construed into a literal injunction.* Raphael makes this misconstruction the subject of one of his great cartoons, by representing Christ as speaking to Peter, and pointing to a flock of lambs.

Lammas Towers in Mid-Lothian.

There was a Lammas festival, which prevailed in the Lothians from very early times among the young persons employed during summer in tending the herds at pasture. The usage is remarkable.

It appears that the herdsmen within a certain district, towards the beginning of summer, associated themselves into bands, sometimes to the number of a hundred or more. Each of these communities agreed to build a tower in some conspicuous place, near the centre of their district, which was to serve as the place of their rendezvous on Lammas day. This tower was usually built of sods; for the most part 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. In building it, a hole was left in the centre for admitting a flag-staff, on which to display their colours. The tower was usually begun to be built about a month before Lammas, and was carried up slowly by successive additions from time to time, being seldom entirely completed till a few days before Lammas; though it was always thought that those who completed their's soonest, and kept it standing the longest time before Lammas, behaved in the most gallant manner, and acquired most honour by their conduct.

From the moment the foundation of the tower was laid,it became an object of care and attention to the whole community; for it was reckoned a disgrace to suffer it to be defaced; so that they resisted, with all their power, any attempts that should be made to demolish it, either by force or fraud; and, as the honour that was acquired by the demolition of a tower, if affected 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 was soon put into its former state, yet the news was quickly spread by the successful adventurers, through the whole district, which filled it with shouts of joy and exultation, while their unfortunate neighbours were covered with shame. To ward off this disgrace, a constant nightly guard was kept at each tower, which was made stronger and stronger, as the tower advanced; so that frequent nightly skirmishes ensued at these attacks, but were seldom of much consequence, as the assailants seldom came in force to make an attack in this way, but merely to succeed by surprise; as soon, therefore, as they saw they were discovered, they made off in the best manner they could.

To give the alarm on these, and other occasions, every person was armed with a "tooting horn;" that is, a horn perforated in 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 the "tooting horn," they practised upon it during the summer, while keeping their beasts; and towards Lammas they were so incessantly employed at this business, answering to, and vying with each other, that the whole country rang continually with the sounds; and it must no doubt have appeared to be a very harsh and unaccountable noise to a stranger who was then passing through it.

As the great day of Lammas approached, each community chose one from among themselves for their captain, and they prepared a strand of colours to be ready to be then displayed. For this purpose, they usually borrowed a fine table napkin of the largest size, from some of the farmer's wives within the district; and, to ornament it, they borrowed ribbons, which they tacked upon the napkin in such fashion as best suited their fancy. Things being thus prepared, they marched forth early in the morning on Lammas day, dressed in their best apparel, each armed with a stout cudgel, and, repairing to their tower, there displayed their colours in triumph; blowing horns, and making merry in the best manner they could. 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 mean time, 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 were brought that a hostile party approached, the horns sounded to arms, and they immediately arranged themselves in the best order they could devise; the stoutest and boldest in front, and those of inferior prowess behind. Seldom did they wait the approach of the enemy, but usually went forth to meet them with a bold countenance, 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 weakest 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, none of them would yield, and it 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 lasses, and all the people, came out to meet them, and partake of 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 ribbons 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 they had been to gain a kingdom; 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 at their own appointed place Next day, after the ceremony was over, the ribbons and napkin that formed the colours, were carefully returned to their respective owners, the tower was no longer a matter of consequence, and the country returned to its usual state of tranquility.

The above is a faithful account of this singular ceremony which was annually repeated in all the country, within the distance of six miles west from Edinburgh, about thirty years before Dr. Anderson wrote, which was in the year 1792. How long the custom prevailed,or what had given rise to it, or how far it had extended on each side, he was uninformed. He says, "the name of Lammas-towers will remain, (some of them having been built of stone,) after the celebration of the festival has ceased. This paper will at least preserve the memory of what was meant by them. I never could discover the smallest traces of this custom in Aberdeenshire, though I have there found several towers of stone, very like the Lammas-towers of this country; but these seem to have been erected without any appropriated use, but merely to look at. I have known some of those erected in my time, where I knew for certain that no other object was intended, than merely to amuse the persons who erected them."*


A rare old "broadside" in French, printed at the time, with a large and curious wood-cut at the head, now before the editor, describes a feast of the cobblers of Paris in a burlesque manner, from whence he proposes to extract some account of their proceedings as closely as may be to the original.

First, however, it is proper to observe that the wood engraving, on the next page, is a fac-simile of one third, and by far the most interesting portion of the original.

The entire occupation of the preceding page by a cut, which is the first of the kind in the Every-Day Book, may startle a few readers, but it must gratify every person who regards it either as a faithful transcript of the most interesting part of a very rare engraving, or as a representation of the mode of feasting in the old pot-houses of Paris.

Nothing of consequence is lost by the omission of the other part of the engraving; for it is merely a crowd of smaller figures, seated at the table, eating and drinking, or reeling, or lying on the floor inebriated. The only figure worth notice, is a man employed in turning a spit, and he has really so lack-a-daisical an appearance, that it seems worth while to give the top corner of the print in fac-simile.

We perceive from the page-cut that at the period when the original was executed, the French landlords "chalked up the score" as ours do, and that cobblers had music at their dinners as well as their betters. The band might not be so complete, but it was as good as they could get, and the king and his nobles could not have more than money could procure. The two musicians are of some consideration, as well suited to the scene; nor is the mendicant near them to be disregarded; he is only a little more needy, and, perhaps, a little less importunate than certain suitors for court favours. The singer who accompanies himself on the guitar at the table, is tricked out with a standing ruff and ruffles, and ear-rings, and seems a "joculator" of the first order;—and laying aside his dress, and the jaunty set of his hat, which we may almost imagine had been a pattern for a recent fashion, his face of "infinite humour" would distinguish him any where. However rudely the characters are cut, they are well discriminated. The serving man, with a spur on one foot and without a shoe on the other, who pours wine into a glass, is evidently a person—

"contented in his station
who minds his occupation."

Vandyke himself could scarcely have afforded more grace to a countess, than the artist of the feast has bestowed on a cobbler's wife.

From the French of the author who drew up the account referring to the engraving, we learn that on the first day of August, 1641, the "Society of the Trade of Cobblers," met in solemn festival (as, he observes, was their custom) in the church of St. Peters of Arsis, where, after having bestowed all sorts of praises on their patron, they divided their consecrated bread between them, with which not one third of them was satisfied; for while going out of the church they murmered, while the others chuckled.

After interchanging the reciprocal honours, they were accustomed to pay to each other, (which we may fairly presume to have been hard blows,) many of the most famous of their calling departed to a pot-house, and had a merry-making. They had all such sorts of dishes at their dinner as their purses would afford; particularly a large quantity of turnip-soup, on account of the number of persons present; and as many ox-feet and fricasees of tripe, as all the tripe-shops of the city and its suburbs could furnish, with various other dishes which the reporter says he does not choose to name, lest he should give offence to the fraternity. He mentions cow-beef, however, as one of the delicacies, and hints at their excesses having disordered their stomachs and manners. He speaks of some of them having been the masters, and of others as more than the masters, for they denominated themselves Messieurs le Jurez, of their honourable calling. He further says, that to know the whole history of their assembly you must go to Gentily, at the sign of St. Peter, where, when atleisure, they all play together at bowls. He adds, that it is not necessary to describe them all, because it is not the custom of this highly indispensable fraternity to do kindness, and they are always indignant at strong reproaches.

Finally, he says, "I pray God to turn them from their wickedness." He subjoins a song which he declares if you read and sing, will show he has told the truth, and that you will be delighted with it. He alleges, that he drew it up to make you better acquainted with the scene represented in the wood-cut, in order that you might be amused and laugh. Whether it had that tendency cannot be determined, for unluckily the song, which no doubt was the best part, has perished from the copy of the singular paper now described.


Exeter Lammas Fair.

The charter for this fair is perpetuated by a glove of immense size, stuffed and carried through the city on a very long pole, decorated with ribbons, flowers, &c. and attended with music, parish beadles, and the mobility. It is afterwards placed on the top of the Guildhall, and then the fair commences; on the taking down of the glove, the fair terminates.



To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—If the following sketch of St. Wilfrid's life, as connected with his feast at Rippon, be thought sufficiently interesting for insertion, you will oblige an old contributor.

The town of Rippon owes its rise to the piety of early times, for we find that Eata, abbot of Melross and Lindisfarne,in the year of 661 founded a monastery there, for which purpose he had lands given him by Alchfrid, at that time king of Deira, and afterwards of the Northumbrians; but before the building was completed, the Scottish monks retired from the monastery, and St. Wilfrid was appointed abbot in 663, and soon afterwards raised to the see of York. This prelate was then in high favour with Oswy and Egfrid, kings of Northumberland, and the principal nobility, by whose liberality he rose to such a degree ofopulence as to vie with princes, and enable him to build several rich monasteries; but his great pomp and immense wealth having drawn upon him the jealousy of the king and the archbishop of Canterbury, he was exiled. After an absence of ten years he was allowed to return to his see, and died in the monastery of Oundle in 711, aged seventy-six, and was interred there. In 940, his remains were removed to Canterbury, by Odo, archbishop of that see. Amongst all the miracles recorded of Wilfrid by the author of his life,*[V. Wilfridi inter xx Scriptores.], one, if true, was very extraordinary, and would go far to convert the most obdurate pagan. It is said, that at this time, God so blessed the holy man's endeavours towards the propagation of the faith, that, on a solemn day for baptizing some thousands of the people of Sussex, the ceremony was no sooner ended but the heavens distilled such plentiful showers of rain, that the country was releived by it from the most prodigious famine ever heard of. So great was the drought, and provision so scarce, that, in the extremity of hunger, fifty at a time joined hand in hand and flung themselves into the sea, in order to avoid the death of famine by land.But by Wilfrid's means their bodies and souls were preserved.

The town of Rippon continues to this day to honour the memory of its benefactor by an annual feast. On the Saturday following Lammas-day, the effigy of St. Wilfrid is brought into the town with great ceremony, preceded by music, when the people go out to meet it in commemoration of the return of their favourite saint and patron from exile. The following day called St. Wilfrid's Sunday is dedicated to him. On the Monday and Tuesday there are horseraces for small sums only; though formerly there were plates of twenty, thirty, forty, and fifty pounds.† [†Gentleman's Magazine.]

The following is a literal copy ofpart of an advertisement from the "Newcastle Courant" August 28, 1725.

TO BE RUN FOR. The usual four miles' course on Rippon Common, in the county of York, according to articles. On Monday the thirteenth of September a purse of twenty guineas by any horse, mare, or gelding that was no more than five years old the last grass, to be certified by the breeder;each horse to pay two guineas entrance, run three heats, the usual four miles' course for a heat, and carry nine stone, besides saddle and bridle. On Tuesday the fourteenth, THE LADY'S PLATE of fifteen pounds' value by any horse, &c. Women to be the riders: each to pay one guinea entrance, three heats, and twice about the common for a heat."

During the feast of St. wilfrid, which continues nearly all the week, the inhabitants of Rippon enjoy the prividege of rambling through the delightful grounds of "Studley Royal," the seat of Mrs. Laurence, a lady remarkable for her amiable character and bounty to the neighbouring poor. On St. Wilfrid's day the gates of this fairy region are thrown open, and all persons are allowed to wander where they please.

No description can do justice to the exhuberant distribution of nature and art which surrounds one on every side on entering these beautiful and enchanting grounds; the mind can never cease to wonder, nor the eye tire in beholding them.

The grounds consist of about three hundred acres, and are laid out with a taste unexcelled in this country. There is every variety of hill and dale, and a judicious introduction of ornamental buildings with a number of fine statues; among them are Hercules and Antaeus, Roman wrestlers, and a remarkably fine dying gladiator. The beauties of this terrestrial paradise would fill a volume, but the chief attraction is the grand monastic ruin of Fountain's abbey. This magnificient remain of olden time is preserved with the utmost care by the express command of its owner, and is certainly the most perfect in the kingdom. It is seated in a romantic dale surrounded by majestic oaks and firs. The great civility of the persons appointed to show the place, is not the least agreeable feeling on a visit to Studley Royal.

I am, &c.



The first of August, as the anniversary of the death of queen Anne, and the accession of George I., seems to have been kept with rejoicing by the dissenters. In the year 1733, they held a great meeting in London, and several other parts of the kingdom to celebrate the day, it beingthat whereon the "schism bill" was to have taken place if the death of the queen had not prevented it. If this bill had passed into a law, dissenters would have been debarred the liberty of educating their own children.* [Gentleman's Magazine.]


Also in honour of this day there is a rowing match on the river Tames, instituted by Thomas Dogget an old actor of celebrity, who was so attached to the Brunswick family, that sir Richard Steele called him "a whig up to the head and ears."

In the year after George I. came to the thrown, Dogget gave a waterman's coat and silver badge to be rowed for by six watermen on the first day of August, being the anniversary of that king's accession to the throne. This he continued till his death, when it was found that he had bequeathed a certain sum of money, the interest of which was to be appropriated annually, for ever to the purchase of a like coat and badge, to be rowed for in honour of the day by six young watermen whose apprenticeships had expired the year before. This ceremony is every year performed on the first of August, the claimants setting out, at a signal given, at that time of the tide when the current is strongest against them, and rowing from the Old Swan, near London-bridge, to the White Swan at Chelsea. † [Jones's Biographia Dramaticae.]

Broughton, who was a waterman, before he was a prize-fighter, won the first coat and badge.

This annual rowing-match is the subject of a ballad-opera, by Charles Dibdin, first performed at the Haymarket, in 1774, called "The Waterman, or the First of August." In this piece Tom Tugg, a candidate for Dogget's coat and badge, sings the following, which was long a popular


And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman,
Who at Blackfriars-bridge used for to ply;
And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity,
Winning each heart and delighting each eye:
He looked so neat, and rowed so steadily,
The maidens all flocked in his boat so readily,
And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,
That this waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
What sights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry!
'Twas clean'd out so nice, and so painted withal;
He was always first oars when the fine city ladies,
In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall:
And oftentimes would they be giggling and leering,
But 'twas all one to Tom, their gibing and jeering,
For loving, or liking, he little did care,
For this waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
And yet, but to see how strangely things happen,
As he row'd along, thinking of nothing at all,
He was plied by a damsel so lovely and charming,
That she smiled, and so straightway in love he did fall;
And, would this young damsel but banish his sorrow,
He'd wed her to night before to-morrow:
And how should this waterman ever know care,
When he's married and never in want of a fare?

Tom Tug wins Dogget's coat and badge under the eyes of his mistress, who sits with her friends to see the rowing-match from an inn window overlooking the river; and, with the prize, he wins her heart.


Colley Cibber calls Dogget "a prudent, honest man," and relates anecdotes highly to our founder's honour. One of them is very characteristic of Dogget's good sense and firmness.

The lord chamberlain was accustomed to exercise great power over actors. In king William's reign he issued an order than no actor of either company should presume to go from one to the other without a discharge, and the lord chamberlain's permission; and messengers actually took performers who disobeyed the edict into custody. Dogget was under articles to play at Drury-lane, but conceiving himself treated unfairly, quitted the state, would act no more, and preferred to forego his demands rather than hazard the tediousness and danger of the law to recover them. The manager, who valued him highly, resorted to the authority of the lord chamberlain. "Accordingly upon his complaint, a messenger was immediately despatched to Norwich, where Dogget then was, to bring him up in custody. But doughty Dogget, who had money in his pocket, and the cause of liberty at his heart, was not in the least intimidated by this formidable summons. He was observed to obey it with a particular cheerfulness, entertaining his fellow-traveller, the messenger, all the way in the coach (for he had protested against riding) with as much humour as a man of his business might be capable of tasting. And, as he found his charges were to be defrayed, he, at every inn, called for the best dainties the country could afford, or a pretended weak appetite would digest. At this rate they jollily rolled on, more with the air of a jount than a journey, or a party of pleasure than of a poor devil in durance. Upon his arrival in town, he immediately applied to the lord chief justice Holt for his habeas corpus. As his case was something particular, that eminent and learned minister of the law took a particular notice of it: for Dogget was not only discharged, but the process of his confinement (according to common fame) had a censure passed upon it in court."

"We see," says Cibber, "how naturally power, only founded on custom, is apt, where the law is silent, to run into excesses; and while it laudably pretends to govern others, how hard it is to govern itself."* [Autobiography, 1826, 18mo. vol.i.p.202]

Scarcely any thing is known of this celebrated performer, but through Cibber, with whom he was a joint patentee in Drury-lane theatre. They sometimes warmly differed, but Cibber respected his integrity and admired his talents. The accounts of Dogget in "Cibber's Apology," are exceedingly amusing, and the book is now easily accessible, for it forms the first volume of "Autobiography, a collection of the most instructive and amusing lives written by the parties themselves;"—a work printed in an elegant form, and published at a reasonable price, and so arranged that every life may be purchased separately.

Cibber says of Dogget, "He was a golden actor.—He was the most an original, and the strictest observer of nature,of all his contemporaries. He borrowed from none of them; his manner was his own; he was a pattern to others, whose great merit was, that they had sometimes tolerably imitated him. In dressing a character to the greatest exactness he was remarkably skilful; the least article of whatever habit he wore, seemed in some degree to speak and mark the different humour he presented; a necessary care in a comedian, in which many have been too remiss or ignorant. He could be extremely ridiculous without stepping into the least impropriety to make him so. His greatest success was in characters of lower life, which he improved from the delight he took in his observations of that kind in the real world. In songs and particular dances, too, of humour, he had no competitor. Congreve was a great admirer of him, and found his account in the characters he expressly wrote for him. In those of Fondlewife, in his 'Old Batchelor,' and Ben, in 'Love for Love,' no author and actor could be more obliged to their mutual masterly performances."

Dogget realized a fortune, retired from the stage, and died, endeared to watermen and whigs, at Eltham, in Kent, on the twenty-second of September, 1721.


Mean Temperature . . . 64.77.



Thomas Gainsborough, eminent as a painter, and for love of his art, died on the second of August, 1788. His last words were, "We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the party." He was buried, by his own desire, near his friend Kirby, the author of the Treatise on "Perspective," in the grave-yard of Kew chapel.

Gainsborough was born at Sudbury, in Suffolk, in 1727, where his father was a clothier, and nature the boy's teacher. He passed his mornings in the woods alone; and in solitary rambles sketched old trees, brooks, a shepherd and his flock, cattle, or whatever his fancy seized on. After painting several landscapes, he arrived in London and received instructions from Gravelot and Hayman: he lived in Hatton-Garden, married a lady with 200l. a year, went to Bath, and painted portraits for five guineas, till the demand for his talent enabled him gradually to raise the price to a 100l. He settled in Pall-mall in 1774, with fame and fortune.

Gainsborough, while at Bath, was chosen a member of the Royal Academy on its institution, but neglected its meetings. Sir Joshua Reybnolds says, "whether he most excelled in portraits, landscapes, or fancy pictures, it is most difficult to determine." His aërial perspective is uncommonly light and beautiful. He derived his grace and elegance from nature, rather than manners; and hence his paintings are inimitable true and bewitching. Devoted to his art, he regretted leaving it; just before his death, he said, "he saw his deficiences, and had endeavoured to remedy them in his last works."

No object was too mean for Gainsborough's pencil; his habit of closely observing things in their several particulars, enabled him to perceive their relations to each other, and combine them. By painting at night, he acquired new perceptions: he had eyes and saw, and he secured every advantage he discovered. He etched three plates; one for "Kirby's Perspective;" another an oak tree with gypsies; and the third, a man ploughing on a rising ground, which he spoiled in "biting in:" the print is rare.

In portraits he strove for natural character, and when this was attained, seldom proceeded farther. He could have imparted intelligence to the features of the dullest, but he disdained to elevate what nature had forbidden to rise; hence, if he painted a butcher in his Sunday-coat, he made him, as he looked, a respectable yeoman; but his likenesses were chiefly of persons of the first quality, and he maintained their dignity. His portraits are seldom highly finished, and are not sufficiently estimated, for the very reason whereon his reputation for natural scenery is deservedly high. Sir Joshua gave Gainsborough one hundred guineas for a picture of a girl and pigs, though its artist only required sixty.* [Pilkington.]

Gainsborough had what the world calls eccentricities. They resulted rather from his indulgence in study, than contempt for the usages of society. It was well for Gainsborough that he could disregard the courtesies of life without disturbance to his happiness, from those with whom manners are morals.

A series of "Studies of Figures" from Gainsborough's "Sketch Books," are executed in lithography, in exact imitation of his original drawings by Mr. Richard Lane. Until this publication, these drawings were unknown. Mr. Lane's work is to Gainsborough, what the prints in Mr. Otley's "Italian School of Design," are to Raphael and Michael Angelo. Each print is so perfect a fac-simile, that it would be mistaken for the original drawing, if we were not told otherwise. This is the way to preserve the reputation of artists. Their sketches are often better than their paintings: the elaboration of a thought tends to evaporate its spirit.


Mean Temperature . . . 64.95.

August 3.


Michael Adanson, an eminent naturalist of Scottish extraction, born in April, 1727, at Aix, in Provence, died at Paris on the third of August, 1806. Needham, at one of his examinations, presented Adason, then a child, with a microscope, and the use of the instrument gave the boy a bias to the science which he distinguished as a philosopher. His parents destined him for the church, and obtained a prebend's stall for him, but he abandoned his seat, made a voyage to Senegal in 1757, and published the result of his labours in a natural history of that country. This obtained him the honour of corresponding member in the Academy of Sciences. In 1763, his "Famille des Plantes" appeared; it was followed by a design of an immense general work, which failed from Louis XV., withholding his patronage. He formed the project of a settlement on the African coast for raising colonial produce without negro slavery, which the French East India company refused to encourage: he refused to communicate his plan to the English, who, after they had become martyrs of Senegal, applied for it to Adanson, through lord North. He declined invitations from the courts of Spain and russia, and managed as well as he could with pensions derived fromhis office of royal censor, his place in the academy, and other sources inadequate to the expense of forming his immense collections. He was reduced to poverty by the revolution. The French invited himto join it as a member; he answered, "he had no shoes." This procured him a small pension, whereon he subsisted till his death.* [General Biography, vol.i.17.]

So early as thirteen years of age, Adanson began to write notes onthe natural histories of Aristotle and Pliny; but soon quitted books to study nature. He made a collection of thirty-three thousand existences, which he arranged in a series of his own. This was the assiduous labour of eight years. Five years spent at Senegal, gave him the opportunity of augmenting his catalogue. He extended his researches to subjects of commercial unility, explored the most fertile and best situated districts of the country, formed a map of it, followed the course of the Niger, and brought home with him an immense collection of observations, philosophical, political, moral, and economical, with an addition to his catalogue of about thirty thousand hitherto unknown species, which, with his former list, and subsequent additions brought the whole number to more than ninety thousand.

The arrangement of Adanson's "Familles des Plantes," is founded upon the principle, "that if there is in nature a system which we can detect, it can only be founded on the totality of the relations of characters, derived from all the parts and qualities of plants." His labours are too manifold to e specified, but their magnitude may be conceived from his having laid before the academy, in 1773, the plan of his "Universal Natural Encyclopaedia," consisting of one hundred and twenty manuscript volumes, illustrated by seventy-five thousand figures, in folio. In 1776, he published in the "Supplement of the first Encyclopaedia," by Diderot and D'Alembert, the articles relative to natural history and the philosophy of the sciences, comprised under the letters A. B. C. In 1779, he journied over the highest mountains in Europe, whence he brought more than twenty thousand specimens of different minerals, and charts of more than twelve hundred leagues of country. He was the possessor of the most copious cabinet in the world.

Adanson's first misfortune from the revolution was the devastation of his experimental garden, in which he had cultivated one hundred and thirty kinds of mulberry to perfection; and thus the labour of the best part of his life was overthrown in an instant. One privation succeeded another, till he was plunged in extreme indigence, and prevented from pursuing his usual studies for want of fire and light. "I have found him in winter (says his biographer) at nine in the evening, with his body bent, his head stooped to the floor, and one foot placed upon another, before the glimmering of a small brand, writing upon this new kind of desk, regardless of the invonvenience of an attitude which would have been a torment to anyone not excited by the most inconceivable habit of labour, and inspired with the ecstacy of meditation."

Adanson's miserable condition was somewhat alleviated by the minister Benezech; but another minister, himself a man of letters, Francois de Neufchateau, restored Adanson to the public notice, and recommended him to his successors. The philosopher, devoted to his studies, and apparently little fitted for society, sought neither patron nor protector; and indeed he seems never to have been raised above that poverty, which was often the lot of genius and learning in the stormy period of the revolution. His obligations to men in power were much less than to a humbler benefactor, whose constant and generous attachment deserves honourable commemoration. This was Anne-Margaret-Roux, the wife of Simon Henry, who, in 1783, at the age of twenty-eight, became the domestic of Adanson, and from that time to his death, stood in the place to him of relations, friends, and fortune. During the extremity of his distress, when he was in want of every necessary, she waited upon him during the day, and passed the night, without his knowledge, in labours, the wages of which she employed in the purchase of coffee and sugar, without which he could do nothing. At the same time, her husband, in the service of another master in Picardy, sent every week bread, meat, and vegetables, and even his savings in money, to supply the other wants of the philosopher. When Adanson's accumulated infirmities rendered the cares of the wife insufficient, Simon Henry came and assisted her, and no more quitted him.

From the time of his residence at Senegal, Adanson was exceedingly sensible of cold and humidity; and from inhabiting a ground floor, without cellars, in one of the lowest streets in Paris, he was continually labouring under rheumatic affections. The attitude in which he read and wrote, which was that of his body bent in an arm-chair, and his legs raised high on each side of the chimney-place, contributed to deposit humours upon his loins, and the articulations of his thighs. When he had again got a little garden, he used to pass whole days before his plants, sitting upon his crossed legs; and he often forgot, in the ardour of study, to go to bed. This mode of life occasioned an osseous disease in the right thigh. In January, 1806, as he was standing by his fire, he perceived his thigh bend, and would have fallen, had he not been supported by his devoted domestic. he was put to bed, the limb was replaced, and he was attended with the utmost assiduity by the faithful pair, who even tore up their own linen for his dressings. Except his surgeon,they were the only human beings he saw during the last six months of his life--a proof how little he had cultivated friendship among his equals. Napoleon informed of his wretched situation, sent him three thousand livres, which his two attendants managed with the greatest fidelity. Whilst confined to his bed,he continued his usual occupation of reading and writing, and was seen every morning with the pen in his hand, writing without spectacles, in very small characters, at arm's length. The powers of his understanding were entire when he expired.* [Dr. Aikin's Athenaeum.]


Mean Temperature . . . 64.25.

August 4.


On the fourth of August, 1739, a farmer of Croydon undertook for a considerable wager, to bowl a skittle-bowl from that town to London-bridge, about eleven miles, in 500 times, and performed it in 445 † [Gentleman's Magazine.]


Mean Temperature . . . 63.72.

August 5.

ST. JAMES'S DAY, Old Style.

It is on this day, and not on St. James's day new style, as mistakingly represented in vol.i.col.878, that oysters come in.


For the Every-Day Book.

Greengrocers rise at dawn of sun—
August the fifth—come haste away!
To Billingsgate the thousands run,—
'Tis Oyster Day!—'tis Oyster Day!

Now at the corner of the street
With oysters fine the tub is filled;
The cockney stops to have a treat
Prepared by one in opening skilled.

The pepper-box, the cruet,—wait
To give a relish to the taste;
The mouth is watering for the bait
Within the pearly cloisters chased.

Take off the beard—as quick as thought
The pointed knife divides the flesh;—
What plates are laden—loads are bought
And eaten raw, and cold, and fresh!

Some take them with their steak for sauce,
Some stew, and fry, and scollop well;
While, Leperello-like, some toss;
And some in gutting them excel.*
[See the supper scene in "Don Giovanni,"—also the Irishman's joke of eating the oysters and taking his master the shells. Speaking of "Oysters"—the song sung by Grimaldi senion,--"An oyster crossed in love,"—has been very popular.]

Poor creatures of the ocean's wave!
Born, fed, and fatted for our prey;—
E'en boys, your shells when parted, crave,
Perspective for the "Grotto day."

With watchful eye in many a band
The urchin wights at eve appear;
They raise their "lights" with voice and hand—
"A grotto comes but once a year!"

Then, in some rustic gardener's bed
The shells are fixed for borders neat;
Or, crushed within a dustman's shed,
Like deadmen's bones 'neath living feet.


Sir Reginald Bray, the architect of king Henry the seventh's chapel, died August 5, 1503. His family came into England with the Conqueror, and flourished in Northampton and Warwickshire. He was second son to sir RichardBray, a privy conusellor to king Henry VI. In the first year of Richard III. Reginald had a general pardon, for having adhered, it is presumed, to Henry VI. He favoured the advancement of the earl of Richmond to the throne as Henry VII., who made him a knight banneret, probably on Bosworth field. At this king's coronation he was created a knight of the bath, and afterwards a knight of the garter.

Sir Reginald Bray was a distinguished statesman and warrior. He served at the battle of Blackheath in 1497, on the Cornish insurrection under lord Audley, part of whose estates he acquired by grant. He was constable of Oakham castle in Rutlandshire, joint chief justice of the forests south of Trent, high steward of the university of Oxford, chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, and high treasurer. Distinguished by the royal favour, he held the Isle of Wight for his life at an annual rent of three hundred marks, and died possessed of large estates, under a suspicious sovereign who extorted large sums from his subjects when there was very little law to control the royal will. His administration was so just as to procure him the title of "the father of his country." To his skill in architecture we are indebted for the most eminent ecclesiastical ornament of the metropolis—the splendid chapel founded by Henry in his lifetime at Westminster; and he conducted the chapel of St. George, at Windsor palace, to its completion.


Mean Temperature . . . 63.47.

August 6.


For this denomination of the day see vol.i.col.1071.

It is alleged that this festival was observed at Rome in the fifth century, though not universally solemnized until in 1457 pope Calixtus III. ordained its celebration to commemorate the raising of the siege of Belgrade by Mahomet II.* [Butler. Brady.]


Mean Temperature . . . 63.37.

August 7.


A festival in honor of the name of Jesus appears was anciently held on the second Sunday in Epiphany, from whence it was removed at the reformation to this day, and the name of St. Donatus expunged by the English reformers to make room for it. That saint's name had previously been substituted for that of St. Afra, to whom the day had first been dedicated in honour of her martyrdom.

Caput Sancti Adalderonis.

Ausburg cathedral was rebuilt by St. Ulric to whom and St. Afra jointly it was dedicated: a Latin folio with engravings by Kilian describes its magnificence.*[Basilica S S. Udalrici et Afrae, Imperialis Monastersi old. S. Benedicti Augustae Vindel. Historice descripta; edit. secunda. August. Vindel. 1653.] In the church were preserved the sculls of several saints, blazing with jewellery, mitred or crowned, reposing on embroidered cushions, and elevated on altars or reliquaries. One of these is selected as a specimen of the sumptuous adornment of deceased mortality in Roman catholic churches.


This saint is alleged to have suffered martyrdom under Dioclesian. She had led an abandoned life at Augsburg, but being required to sacrifice to the heathen deities she refused; wherefore, with certain of her female companions, she was bound to a stake in an island on the river Lech, and suffocated by smoke from vine branches. She is honoured as chief patroness of Augsburg.


This saint was bishop of augsburg, which city he defended against the barbarians by raising walls and erecting fortresses around it, and died in 973, surrounded by his clergy, while lying on ashes strewed on the floor in the form of a cross.


Mean Temperature . . . 63.20.

August 8.


This time of the year is usually remarkably fine. The rich glow of summer is seldom in perfection till August. We now enjoy settled hot weather, a glowing sky, with varied and beautiful, but not many clouds, and delightfully fragrant and cool evenings. The golden yellow of the ripe corn, the idea of plenty inspired by the commencing harvest of wheat, the full and mature appearance of the foliage, in short the tout ensemble of nature at this time is more pleasing than perhaps that of any of the other summer months.

One of the editors of the "Perennial Calendar," inserts some verses which he found about this time among his papers; he says they are "evidently some parody," and certainly they are very agreeable.


In Fancy how dear are the scenes of my childhood
Which old recollections recal to my view!
My own little garden, its plants, and the wild wood,
The old paper Kite that my Infancy flew.

The cool shady Elm Grove, the Pond that was by it,
My small plaything Mill where the rain torrent fell;
My Father's Pot Garden, the Drying Ground nigh it,
The old wooden Pump by the Melon ground well.

That Porgugal Laurel I hail as a treasure,
For often in Summer when tired of play,
I found its thick shade a most exquisite pleasure,
And sat in its boughs my long lessons to say.

There I first thought my scholarship somewhat advancing,
And turning my Lilly right down onits back,
While my thirst for some drink the Sun's beams were enhancing
I shouted out learnedly—Da mihi lac.

No image more dear thanthe thoughts of these baubles,
Ghigs, Peg Tops, and Whip Tops, and infantine games
The Grassplot for Ball, and the Yewwalk for Marbles,
And the arbours for whoop, and the vine trellis frames.

Those three renowned Poplars, by Summer winds waved
By Tom, Ben, and Ned, that were planted of yore,
'Twixt the times when these Wights were first breeched and first shaved
May now be hewn down, and may waver no more!

How well I remember, when Spring flowers were blowing,
With rapture I cropt the first Crocuses there!
Life seemed like a Lamp in eternity glowing,
Nor dreamt I that all the green boughgs would be sear.

In Summer,, while feasting on Currants and Cherries,
And roving through Strawberry Beds with delight,
I thought not of autumn's Grapes, Nuts, and Blackberries,
Nor of Ivy decked Winter cold shivering in white.

E'en in that frosty season, my Grandfather's Hall in,
I used to sit turning the Electric Machine,
And taking from Shockbottles shocks much less galling,
If sharper than those of my manhood I ween.

The Chestnuts I picked up and flung in the fires,
The Evergreens gathered the hot coals to choke;
Made reports that were emblems of blown up desires,
And warm glowing hopes that have ended in smoke.

How oft have I sat on the green bench astonished
To gaze at Orion and Night's shady car,
By the starspangled Sky's Magic Lantern admonished
Of time and of space that were distant afar!

but now when embarked on Life's rough troubled ocean,
While Hope with her anchor stands up on the bow,
May Fortune take care of my skiff put in motion,
Nor sink me when coyly she steps on the prow.


Mean Temperature . . . 62.97.

August 9.


The "Gentleman's Magazine" records that, on August the ninth, 1734 a large eagle ws taken near Carlton in Kent, by a taylor: its wings when expanded werethree yards eight inches long. It was claimed by the lord of the manor, but afterwards demanded by the king's falconer as a royal bird and carried to court.

It was formerly a custom with itinerant showmen, who had tolerably sized eagles among their "wonders of nature," to call them "Eagles of the Sun."


Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere
The mystery of thy making was reveal'd!
Thou earliest minister of the Almighty,
Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts
Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd
Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!
And representative of the Unknown—
Who chose thee for His shadow! Thou chief star!
Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth
Endurable, and temperest the hues
And hearts of all who walk within thy rays;
Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes,
And those who dwell in them! for near or far,
Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee,
Even as our outward aspects;—thou dost rise,
And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well! Byron.


We walked along the pathway of a field,
Which to the east a hoar wood shadowed o'er,
But the the west was open to the sky:
There now the sun had sunk; but lines of gold
Hung on the ashen clouds, and on the points
Of the farlevel grass and nodding flowers,
And the old dandelion's hoary beard,
And, mingled with the shades of twilight lay
On the brown masssy woods: and in the east
The broad and burning moon lingeringly rose
Between the black trunks of the crowded trees,
While the faint stars were gathering overhead.


Mean Temperature . . . 62.45.

August 10.

This is the festival day of St. Lawrence.


Old Anthony Munday, the pleasant continuator of Stow's "Survey," renders this day remarkable by a curious notice.

Copa Shawsware's Tomb

This is an exactly reduced fac-simile representation of the wood-cut in Stow, and the following is Anthony Munday's story:—

"This monument, or that of which this is a shadow, with their characters engraven about it, stands in Petty France, at the west end of the lower churchyard of St. Botolphes, Bishopsgate, (not within, but without the walls, the bounds of our consecrated ground,) and was erected to the memory of one Coya Shawsware, a Persian merchant, and a principal servant and secretary to the Persian ambassadour, with whom he and his sonne came over. He was aged forty-four, and buried the tenth of August, 1626: the ambassadour himselfe, young Shawsware his sonne, and many other Persians (with many expressions of their infinite love and sorrow) following him to the ground betweene eight and nine of the clocke in the morning. The rites and ceremonies that (with them) are done to the dead, were chiefly performed by his sonne, who, sitting crosse-legged at the north end of the grave, (for his tombe stands north and south,) did one while reade, another while sing; his reading and singing intermixt sighing and weeping: and this, with other things that were done in the grave in private (to prevent with the sight the relation)continued about halfe an houre.

"But this was but this dayes businesse: for, as this had not beene enough to performe to their friend departed, to this place and to this end (that is, prayer, and other funerall devotions) some of them came every morning and evening at sixe and sixe, for the space of a moneth together; and had come (as it was then imagined) the whole time of their abode here in England, had not the rudenesse of our people disturbed and prevented their purpose."


Mean Temperature . . . 63.69.

August 11.

Dog Days end.


Clouds are defined to be a collection of vapours suspended in the atmosphere, and rendered visible.

Although it be generally allowed that clouds are formed from the aqueous vapours, which before were so closely united with the atmosphere as to be invisible, it is not easy to account for the long continuance of some very opaque clouds without dissolving; or to assign the reason why the vapours, when they have once begun to condense, do not continue to do so till they at last fall to the gound in the form of rain or snow, &c. It is now known that a separation of the latent heat from the water, of which vapour is composed, is attended with a condensation of that vapour in some degree; in such case it will first appear as a smoke, mist, or fog; which, if interposed between the sun and earth, will form a cloud; and the same causes continuing to operate, the cloud will produce rain or snow. It is however abundantly evident that some other cause beside mere heat or cold is concerned inthe formation of clouds, and the condensation of atmospherical vapours. This cause is esteemed in a greatmeasure the electrical fluid; indeed electricity is now so generally admitted as an agent in all the great operations of nature, that it is no wonder to find the formation of clouds attributed to it; and this has accordingly been given by Beccaria as the cause of the formation of all clouds whatsoever, whether of thunder, rain, hail, or snow.

But whether the clouds are produced, that is the atmospheric vapours rendered visible,by means of electricity or not, it is certain that they do often contain the electric fluid in prodigious quantities, and many terrible and destructive accidents have ben occasioned by clouds very highly electrified. The most extraordinary instance of this kind perhaps on record, happened in the islands of Java,in the East Indies, in August, 1772. Oh the eleventh of that month, at midnight, a bright cloud was observed covering a mountain in the district called Cheribou, and several reports like those of a gun were heard at the same time. The people who dwelt upon the upper parts of the mountain not being able to fly fast enough, a great part of the cloud, eight or nine miles in circumference, detached inself under them, and was seen at a distance, rising and falling like the waves of the sea, and emitting globes of fire so luminous, that the night became as clear as day. The effects of it were astonishing; every thing was destroyed for twenty miles round; the houses were demolished; plantations were buried in the earth; and two thousand one hundred and forty people lost their lives, besides one thousand five hundred head of cattle, and a vast number of horses, goats, &c.

The height of the clouds is not usually great: the summits of high mountains being commonly quite free from them, as many travellers have experienced in passing these mountains. It is found that the most highly electrified clouds descend lowest, their height being often not more than seven or eight hundred yards above the ground; and sometimes thunderclouds appear actually to touch the bround with one of their edges; but the generality of clouds are suspended at the height of a mile, or little more, above the earth.

The motions of the clouds, though oftendirected by the wind, are not always so, especially when thunder is about to ensue. In this case they are seen to move very slowly, or even to appear quite stationary for some time. The reason of this probably is, that they are impelled by two opposite streams of air nearly of equal strength; and in such cases it seems that both the aerial currents ascend to a considerable height; for Messrs. Charles and Robert, when endeavouring to avoid a thunder cloud, in one of their aerialvoyages with a balloon, could find no alteration in the course of the current, though they ascended to the height of four thousand feet above the earth. In some cases the motions of the clouds evidently depend on their electricity, independent of any current of air whatever. Thus, in a calm and warm day, small clouds are often seen meeting each other in opposite directions, and setting out from such short distances, that it cannot be supposed that any opposite winds are the cause. Such clouds, when they meet, instead of forming a larger one, become much smaller, and sometimes quite vanish; a circumstance most probably owing to the discharge of opposite electricities into each other. And this serves also to throw some light on the true cause of the formation of clouds; for if two clouds, the one electrified positively, and the other negatively, destroy each other on contact, it follows that any quantity of vapour suspended in the atmosphere, while it retains its natural quantity of electricity, remains invisible, but becomes a cloud when electrified either plus or minus.

The uses of the clouds are evident as from them proceeds the rain that refreshes the earth, and without which, according to the present state of nature, the whole surface of the earth must become a mere desert. They are likewise useful as a screen interposed between the earth and the scorching rays of the sun, which areoften so powerful as to destroy the grass and other tender vegetables. In the more secret operations of nature too, where the electric fluid is concerned, the clouds bear a principal share; and chiefly serve as a medium for conveying that fluid from the atmosphere into the earth, and from the earth into the atmosphere: in doing which, when electrified to a great degree, they sometimes produce very terrible effects; an instance of which is related above.* [Dr. Hutton.]


Mean Temperature . . . 63.35.

August 12.


On the twenty-fifth of August, 1761, the princess Charlotte of Mecklinburgh Strelitz, embarked with her attendants at Cuxhaven, on board the royal yacht, under the salute of a squadron destined to convey her to England, as the affianced bride of his majesty George III. On the twenty-eighth, she sailed, and after that day, no despatches were received until she arrived at Harwich, on the sixth of September.

The court was in some concern lest the tediousness of her voyage might have affected her health; but her highness, during her tedious passage, continued in very good health and spirits, often diverting herself with playing on the harpsichord, practising English tunes, and endearing herself to those who were honoured with the care of her person. She had been twice in sight of the British coast, and as often driven off by contrary winds; one day in hopes of landing on English ground, and the next in danger of being driven to the coasts of Norway. Her arrival, therefore, was a desirable event; but as it was night when she came to Harwich, her highness slept on board, and continued there till three in the afternoon the next day, during which time her route had been settled, and instructions received as to the manner of her proceeding to St. James's.

At her landing, she was received by the mayor and aldermen of Harwich,in their usual formalities. About five o'clock she came to Colchester, and stopped at the house of Mr. Enew, where she was received and waited upon by Mrs. Enew and Mrs. Pebow; but captain Best attended her with coffee, and lieutenant John Seaber with tea. Being thus refreshed, she proceeded to Witham, where she arrived at a quarter past seven, and stopped at lord Abercorn's, and his lordship provided as elegant an entertainment for her as the time would admit. During supper, the door of the room was ordered to stand open, that every body might have the pleasure of seeing her highness, and on each side of her chair stood the lords Harcourt and Anson. She slept that night at his lordship's house.

A little after twelve o'clock next day, her highness came to Romford, where the king's coach and servants met her; and after stopping to drink coffee at Mr. Dutton's where she was waited upon by the king's servants, she entered the king's coach. The attendants of her highness were in three other coaches. In the first were some ladies of Mecklenburgh, and in the last was her highness, who sat forward, and the duchess of Ancaster and Hamilton Backward.

On the road she was extremely courteous to every body, showing herself, and bowing to all who seemed desirous of seeing her, and ordering the coach to go extremely slow through the towns and villages as she passed, that as many as would might have a full view of her. The carriages were attended by an incredible number of spectators, both on horse and foot, to Stratford-le-Bow and Mile-end, where they turned up Dog-row, and prosecuted their journey to Hackney turnpike, then by Shoreditch church, and up Old-street to the City-road, across Islington, along the New-road into Hyde-park, down Constitution-hill into St. James's park, and then to the garden-gate of the palace, where she was received by all the royal family. She was handed out of the coach by the duke of York, and met in the garden by his majexty, who in a very affectionate manner raised her up and saluted her, as she was going to pay her obeisance, and then led her into the palace, where she dined with his majesty, the princess dowager, and the princess Augusta. Ater dinner her highness was pleased to show herself with his majesty in the gallery and other apartments fronting the park.

About eight o'clock in the evening, the procession began to the chapel-royal. Her highness was attended by six dukes'daughters as bride-maids; her train was supported by the daughters of six earls, and she ws preceded by one hundred and twenty laides in extremely rich dresses, who were handed into the chapel by the duke of York. The marriage ceremony was performed by the archbishop of Canterbury. The duke of Cumberland gave the princess's hand to his majesty, and, immediately on the joining of their hands, the park and tower guns were fired. There was afterwards a public drawing-room; but no one ws presented. The metropolis was illuminated, and there were the utmost public demonstrations of joy.

On the following day, the ninth of September, there was the most brilliant court at St. James's ever remembered.

On the fourteenth, the lord mayor, aldermen, and common council of London, waited on their majesties and the princess dowager of Wales, with their addresses of congratulation. On the same day the chancellor and university of Cambridge presented the university address, and in the evening, about a quarter after six, their majesties went to Drury-lane theatre in chairs, and most of the royal family in coaches, to see the "Rehearsal;" they were attended by the horse guards. The theatre was full almost as soon as the doors were opened. Of the vast multitude assembled, not a fiftieth part gained admission. Never was seen so brilliant a house; the ladies were mostly dressed in the clothes and jewels they wore at the royal marriage.

On the twelfth of August, 1762, at twenty-four minutes after seven, an heir apparent to the throne afterwards king George IV., was born. The archbishop of Canterbury was in the room, and certain great officers of state in a room adjoining, with the door open into the queen's apartment. The person who waited on the king with the news, received a present of a five hundred pound bank bill.* [Gentleman's Magazine.]

On this occasion, congratulatory addresses flowed in on their majesties from every part of the kingdom.

The quakers' address was presented to his majesty on the first of October, and read by Dr. Fothergill, as follows:—

To George the Third,king of Great Britain, and the dominions there unto belonging.

The humble address of his Protestant subjects, the people called Quakers.

May it please the king,

The satisfaction we feel in every event that adds to the happiness of our sovereign, prompts us to request admittance to the throne, on the present interesting occasion.

The birth of a prince, the safety of the queen, and thy own domestic felicity increased, call for our thankfulness to the Supreme Dispenser of every blessing; and to the king our dutiful and unfeigned congratulations.

In the Prince of Wales we behold another pledge of the security of those inestimable privileges, which we have enjoyed under the monarchs of thy illustrious house— kings, distinguished by their justice, their clemency, and regard to the prosperity of their people: a happy presage, that under their descendants, our civil and religious liberties will devolve, in their full extent, to succeeding generations.

Long may the Divine Providence preserve a life of so great importance to his royal parents, to these kingdoms, and to posterity; that formed to piety and virtue, he may live beloved of God and man, and fill at length the British throne with a lustre not inferior to her predecessors.


Mean Temperature . . . 64.35.

August 13.


August 13, 1783.—The eminent lawyer, John Dunning (lord Ashburton) died. He was the second son of an attorney at Ashburton, in Devonshire, where he was born, October 18, 1731, educated at the free-school there, and articled to his father. Preferring the principles to the practice of the law, he obtained admission to the bar, and attended on the court and circuits without briefs, till, in 1759, he drew a memorial in behalf of the East India company against the claims of the Dutch, which was deemed a masterpiece in language and reasoning, and brought him into immediate notice. His able arguments against general warrants obtained him high reputation, and he was engaged in almost every great case. He became successively recorder of Bristol, member for Calne, and solicitor-general, which office he surrendered on the resignation of his friend lord Shelburne. When this nobleman returned to power he made Mr. Dunning chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, and a peer of parliament. At the bar he was a most eloquent and powerful orator, and in the house of commons a distinguished opponent of the American war. He is reputed to have been the soundest common and constitutional lawyer of his time.*[General Biographical Dictionary, vol.i.p.678.]


Mean Temperature . . . 62.77.

August 14.


Autust 14, 1794, died George Colman the elder, an elegant scholar, and dramatist. He was born in 1733, at Florence, where his father was appointed resident from Great Britain to the court of Tuscany. He received his education at Westminster-school, and Christchurch-college, Oxford, where he became acquainted with Lloyd, Churchill, and Bonnel Thornton. In conjunction with the latter he wrote "the Connoisseur," which procured him many eminent literary friendships. By the advice of lord Bath he went to the bar, but neglected its duties to court the muses. His fame as a dramatist is maintained by the "Clandestine Marriage," the "Provoked Husband," and the "Jealous Wife." He wrote several other pieces for the stage, translated Terence, and Horace's "Art of Poetry," and became manager of Covent-garden theatre, and afterwards the patentee of the little theatre in the Haymarket, which he managed until paralysis impaired his faculties, and he sunk into a state of helplessness, from whence he never recovered.


Mean Temperature . . . 63.27.

August 15.


This Romish festival is retained in the church of England calendar.

Our old acquaintance Barnaby Googe rhimes of this festival from Naogeorgus:—

The blessed virgin Marie's feast,
hath here his place and time,
Wherein departing from the earth,
she did the heavens clime;
Great bundels then of hearbes to Church,
the people fast doe beare,
The which against all hurtfull things,
the priest doth hallow theare.
Thus kindle they and nourish still,
the people's wickednesse,
And vainly make them to beleeve
whatsoever they expresse:
For sundrie witchcrafts by these hearbs
ar wrought, and divers charmes,
And cast into the fire, are thought
to drive away all harmes,
And every painefull griefe from man,
or beast, for to expell,
Farre otherwise than nature, or
the worde of God doth tell.

There is a volume printed at Amsterdam, 1657, entitled, "Jesus, Maria, Joseph; or the Devout Pilgrim of the Everlasting Blessed Virgin Mary, in his Holy Exercises, Affections, and Elevations, upon the sacred Mysteries of Jesus, Maria, Joseph." From this curious book an amusing extract may be adduced, as a specimen of the language employed by certain writers of the Romish churchin their addresses to the virgin:—

"You, O Mother of God, are the spiritual paradise of the second Adam; the delicate cabinet of that divine marriage which was made betwixt the two natures; the great hall wherein was celebrated the world's general reconciliation; you are the nuptial bed of the eternal word; the bright cloud carrying him who hath the cherubins for his chariot; the fleece of wool filled with the sweet dew of heaven, whereof was made that admirable robe of our royal shepherd, in which he vouchsafed to look after his lost sheep; you are the maid and the mother, the humble virgin and the high heaven both together; you are the sacred bridge whereby God himself descended to the earth; you are that piece of cloth wherof was composed the glorious garment of hypostatical union, where the worker was the Holy Ghost, the hand the virtue of the Most High, the wool the old spoils of Adam, the woof -your own immaculate flesh, and the shuttle God's incomparable goodness, which freely gave us the ineffable person of the word incarnate.

"You are the container of the incomprehensible; the root of the world's first, best, and most beautiful flower; the mother of him who made all things; the nurse of him who provides nourishment for the whole universe; the bosom of him who unfolds all being within his breast; the unspotted robe of him who is clothed with light as with a garment; you are the sally-port through which God penetrated into the world; you are the pavilion of the Holy Ghost; and you are the furnace into which the Almighty hath particularly darted the most fervent sunbeams of his dearest love and affection.

"All hail! fruitful earth, along proper and only prepared to bring forth the bread corn by which we are all sustained and nourished; happy leaven, which hath given relish to Adam's whole race, and seasoned the paste wherof the true life-giving and soul-saving bread was composed; ark of honour in which God himself was pleased to repose, and where very glory itself becamse sanctified; golden pitcher, containing him who provides sweet manna from heaven, and produces honey from the rock to satisfy the appetites of his hungry people; you are the admirable house of God's humiliation, through whose door he descended to dwell among us; the living book wherein the Father's eternal word was written by the pen of the Holy Ghost. You are pleasing and comely as Jerusalem, and the aromatical odours issuing from your garments outvie all the delights of Mount Lebanus; you are the sacred pix of celestial perfumes, whose sweet exhalations shall never be exhausted; you are the holy oil, the unextinguishable lamp, the unfading flower, the divinely-woven purple, the royal vestment, the imperial diadem, the throne of the divinity, the gate of Paradise, the queen of the universe, the cabinet of life, the fountain ever flowing with celestial illustrations.

"All hail! the divine lantern encompassing that crystal lamp whose light outshines the sun in its midday splendour; the spiritual sea whence the world's reihest pearl was extracted; the radiantsphere, enclosing him within your sacred folds, whom the heavens cannot contain within their vast circumference; the celestial throne of God, more glistering than that of the glorious cherubims, the pure temple, tabernacle, and seat of the divinity.

"You are the well-fenced orchard, the fruitful border, the fair and delicate garden of sweet flowers, embalming the earth and air with their odoriferous fragrance, yet shut up and secured from any enemy's entrance and irruption; you are the holy fountain, sealed with the signet of the most sacred Trinity, from whence the happy waters of life inflow upon the whole universe; you are the happy city of God, wherof such glorious things are everywhere sung and spoken."*[Dr. Aikin's Athenaeum.]


One of the highest mountains of the chain that encircles the territory of Marseilles, has upon its summit a very singular rock, which appears exactly like the ruin of an old castle. This mountain derived its name from a chapel about half-way up, dedicated to the holy virgin, under the name of "Notre Dame des Anges," but destroyed during the revolution. On the day of the Assumption, there is help on the mountain in the vicinity of the chapel, what is called in the Provenç tongue, a roumaragi, which is a country feast. The people from the neighbouring parts assemble on the spot, dressed in their Sunday clothes, where they join in dancing, playing at bowls, of which the Provençaux are passionately fond, quoits, running races, and other rural sports. Every village in Provence has a similar fête on some day in the year. In the case of the village being named after any saint, which is very common, as St. Joseph, St. Barnabé, St. Zacharie, St. Louis, and many others, the roumaragi is held on that saint's day. That on the mountain of Notre Dame des Anges is held on the Assumption, on account of the chapel having been dedicated to the holy virgin. During the revolution there was a general suspension of these festivals, but to the great joy of the Provençaux, they were resumed under Napoleon.†[Miss Plumptre.]


It is related in Mr. Dawson Turner's "Tour through Normandy," that formerly a pageant in honour of the virgin was held in the archbishopric of Rouen. Des Marêts, the governor of Dieppe, in 1443, established it in honour of the final expulsion of the English. The first master of the Guild of the Assumption was the founder of it, under whose auspices and direction it was conducted.

About midsummer the principal inhabitants used to assemble at the hotel de ville, or townhouse of Dieppe, and there they selected the girl of the most exemplary character to represent the Virgin Mary, and with her six other young women, to act the parts of the daughters of Sion. The honor of figuring in this holy drama was greatly coveted; and the historian of Dieppe gravely assures us, that the earnestness felt on the occasion mainly contributed to the preservation of that purity of manners and that genuine piety, which subsisted in this town longer than in any other of France! But the election of the virgin was not sufficient: a representative of St. Peter was also to be found among the clergy; and the laity were so far favoured, that they were permitted to furnish the eleven other apostles.

This done, upon the fourteenth of August the virgin was laid in a cradle of the form of a tomb,and was carried early in the morning, (of the fifteenth,) attended by her suite of either sex, to the church of St. Jacques; while, before the door of the master of the guild, was stretched a large carpet, embroidered with verses in letters of gold, setting forth his own good qualities, and his love for the holy Mary. Hither also, as soon as lauds had been sung, the procession repaired from the church, and then it was joined by the governor of the town, the members of the guild, the municipal officers, and the clergy of the parish of St. Remi. Thus attended, they paraded the town,singing hymns, which were accompanied by a full band. The procession was increased by the great body of the inhabitants; and its impressiveness was still further augmented by numbers of the youth of either sex, who assumed the garb and attributes of their patron saints, and mixed in the immediate train of the principal actors. They then again repaired to the church, where Te Deum was sung by the full choir, in commemoration of the victory over the English; and high mass was performed, and the sacrament administered to the whole party.

During the service, a scenic representation was given of the Assumption of the Virgin. A scaffolding was raised, reaching nearly to the top of the dome, and supporting an azure canopy intended to emulate the "spangled vault of heaven;" and about two feet below the summit of it appeared, seated on a splendid throne, an old man as the image of the Father Almighty, a representation equally absurd and impious, and which could alone be tolerated by the votaries of the worst superstitions of popery. On either side four pastboard angels, of the size of men, floated in the air, and flapped their wings in cadence to the sounds of the organ; while above was suspended a large triangle, at whose corners were place three smaller angels, who, at the intermission of each office, performed upon a set of little bells the hymn of "Ave Maria gratiâ Dei plena per Secula," &c., accompanied by a larger angel on each side with a trumpet. To complete this portion of the spectacle, two others, below the old man's feet, held tapers, which were lighted as the services bagan, and extinguished at their close; on which occasions the figures were made to express reluctance by turning quickly about; so that it required some dexterity to apply the extinguishers. At the commencement of the mass, two of the angels by the side of the almight descended to the foot of the altar, and, placing themselves by the tomb, in which a pastboard figure of the virgin had been substituted for her living representative, gently raised it to the feet of the Father. The image, as it mounted, from time to time, lifted its head and extended its arms, as if conscious of the approaching beatitude; then, after having received the benediction, and been encircled by another angel with a crown of glory, it gradually disappeared behind the clouds. At this instant a buffoon, who all the time had been playing his antics below, burst into an extravagant fit of joy; at one moment clapping his hands most violently, at the next stretching himself out as if dead. Finally, he ran up to the feet of the old man, and hid himself under his legs, so as to show only his head. The people called him Grimaldi, an appelation that appears to have belonged to him by usage; and it is a singular coincidence, that the surname of the noblest family of Genoa the Proud, thus assigned by the rude rabble of a seaport to their buffoon, should belong of right to the sire and son, whos mops and mowes afford pastime to the upper gallery at Covent-garden.

Thus did the pageant proceed in all its grotesque glory; and, while

These laboured nothings in so strange a style
Amazed th' unlearned, and made the learned smile,

the children shouted aloud for their favourite Grimaldi: the priests, accompanied with bells, trumpets, and organs thundered out the mass; the pious were loud in their exclamations of rapture at the devotion of the virgin, and the whole church was filled with a hoarse and confused murmuring sound. The sequel of this, as of most other similar representations, was a hearty dinner.

This adoration of the virgin, so prevalent in Romish worship, is adverted to in a beautiful passage of "Don Roderick."

How calmly gliding through the dark blue sky
The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams,
through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque,
Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope;
Here, o'er the chestnut's fretted foliage grey
And massy, motionless they spread; here shine
Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night
Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry
Ripples and glances on the confluent streams.
A lovelier, purer light than that of day
Rests on the hills; and oh, how awfully
Into that deep and tranquil firmament
The summits of Auseva rise serene!
The watchman on the battlements partake
The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels
The silence of the earth, the endless sound
Of flowing water soothes him, and the stars,
Which in that brightest moonlight well nigh quenched,
Scarce visible, as in the utmost depth
Of yonder sapphire infinite are seen,
Draw on with elevating influence
Toward eternity the attempered mind
Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands,
And to the virgin mother silently
Breathes forth her gymn of praise.




Mean Temperature . . . 63.62.

August 16.


August 16, 1678, died Andrew Marvel, a man who "dared be honest in the worst of times." He was the son of a clergyman at Hull in Yorkshire, where he was born in 1620. In 1633, he was sent to Trinity-college, Cambridge; in 1657, he became assistant to Milton in his office of Latin secretary to Cromwell; and at the restoration he was chosen to represent his native town in the house of commons.

Hi conduct was marked by inflexible adherence to the principles of liberty, and his wit as a writer was levelled at the corruptions of the court; yet Charles II. courted his society for the pleasure of his conversation. He lived in a mean lodging in an obscure court in the Strand, where he was visited by lord Danby, at the desire of the king, with his majesty's request, to know in what way he could serve him; Marvel answered, it was not in the king's power to serve him. Lord Danby in the course of conversation assured him of any place he might choose; Marvel replied, he could not accept the offer without being unjust to his country by betraying its interests, or ungrateful to the king by voting against him. Before lord Danby took leave he told him his majesty had sent him a thousand pounds as a mark of his private esteem. Marvel did not need the assurance; he refused the money, and after his noble visiter departed, borrowed a guinea which he wanted of a friend. This great man after having served his constituents for twenty successive years in parliament, was buried at their expense in the church of St. Giles-in-the-Fields.


Mean Temperature . . . 62.65.

August 17.


August 17, 1736, died Mr. Niblet, master of the copper mills at Mitcham, Surry, renowned in the "Gentleman's Magazine," and in this column, for having made the ball and cross of St. Paul's cathedral, London. *[Gentleman's magazine.]


Mean Temperature . . . 63.52.

August 18.


August 18, 1746, William, earl of Kilmarnock, aged forty-two, and Arthur, baron Balmerino, aged fifty-eight, were beheaded on Tower-hill, as traitors, for levying war against king George II., in behalf of the pretender.

At the foot of a light of stairs in the tower, lord Kilmarnock met lord Balmerino, and embracing him said, "My lord, I am heartily sorry to have your company in this expedition." At the Tower-gates, the sheriffs gave receipts for their bodies to the lieutenant, who, as usual, said, "God bless king George," whereon the earl of Kilmarnock bowed; lord Balmerino exclaimed, "God bless king James." They were preceded by the constable of the Tower hamlets, the knight-marshal's men, tipstaves, and the sheriff's officers, the sheriffs walking with their prisoners, followed by the tower warders, and a guard of musqueteers. Two hearses and a mourning coach terminated the procession, which passed through lines of foot soldiers to the scaffold on the south side of the hill, around which the guards formed an area, and troops of horse wheeled off, and drew up in their rear five deep.

The lords were conducted to separate apartments in a house facing the scaffold, and their friends admitted to see them. The rev. Mr. Hume, a near relative of the earl of Hume, with the rev. Mr. Foster, an amiable dissenting minister, who never recovered the dismal effect of the scene, assisted the earl of Kilmarnock; the chaplain of the tower, and another clergyman of the church of England accompanied lord Balmerino, who on entering the house, hearing several of the spectators ask, "which is lord Balmerino?" answered with a smile, "I am lord Balmerino, gentlemen, at your service." Earl Kilmarnock spent an hour with Mr. Foster in devotional exercises, and afterwards had a conference with lord Balmerino, who on their taking leave said, "My dear lord Kilmarnock, I am only sorry that I cannot pay this reckoning alone: once more farewell for ever!"

As lord Kilmarnock proceeded to the scaffold attended by his friends, the multitude showed the deepest signs of pity and commiseration. Struck by the sympathy of the immense assemblage, and the variety of dreadful objects on the stage of death, his coffin, the heading-block, the axe, and the executioners, he turned to Mr. Hume and said, "Hume! this is terrible," but his countenance and voice were unchanged. The black baize over the rails of the scaffold was removed, that the people might see all the circumstances of the execution, and a single stroke from the headsman, separated him from the world.

Lord Balmerino in the mean time having solemnly recommended himself to the Supreme Mercy, conversed cheerfully with his friends, took wine, and desired them to drink to him "ane degree ta haiven." The sheriff entered to inform him that all was ready, but was prevented by the lordship inquiring if the affair was over with lord Kilmarnock. "It is," said the sheriff. He then inquired, and being informed, how the executioner performed his office, observed, "It was well done;" turning himself to the company, he said, "Gentlemen I shall detain you no longer," and saluted them with unaffected cheerfulness. He moutned the scaffold with so easy an air, as to astonish the spectators. No circumstance in his whole deportment showed the least fear or regret, and he frequently reproved his friends for discovering either, upon his account. He walked several times round the scaffold, bowed to the people, went to his coffin, read the inscription, and with a nod, said "it is right;" he then examined the block, which he called his "pillow of rest." Putting on his spectacles, and taking a paper out of his pocket, he read it with an audible voice, and then delivering it to the sheriff, called for the executioner, who appearing, and being about to ask his lordship's pardon, he interrupted him with "Friend, you need not ask my forgiveness, the execution of your duty is commendable," and gave him three guineas, saying, "Friend, I never was rich, this is all the money I have now, and I am sorry I can add nothing to it but my coat and waistcoat," which he then took off, together with his neckcloth, and threw them on his coffin. Putting on a flannel waistcoat, provided for the purpose, and taking a plaid cap out of his pocket, he put it on his head, saying he died "a Scotchman." He knelt down at the block, to adjust his posture, and show the executioner the signal for the stroke. Once more turning to his firends, and looking round on the crowd, he said, "Perhaps some may think my behaviour too bold, but remember, sir, (said he to a gentleman who stood near him,) that I now declare it is the effect of confidence in God, and a good conscience, and I should dissemble if I should show any signs of fear."

Observing the axe in the executioner's hand as he passed him, he took it from him, felt the edge, and returning it, clapped the executioner on the shoulder to encourage him. He then tucked down the collar of his shirt and waistcoat, and showed him where to strike, desiring him to do it resolutely, for "in that," said his lordship, "will consist your kindness."

Passing to the side of the stage, he called up the wardour, to whom he gave some money, asked which was his hearse, and ordered the man to drive near.

Immediately, without trembling or changing countenance, he knelt down at the block, and with his arms stretched out, said, "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies, and receive my soul," he gave the signal by letting them fall. His firmness and intrepidity, and the unexpected suddenness of the signal, so surprised the executioner, that the blow was not given with strength