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yen!

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Let these notes be played on a flute with perfect crescendos and diminuendoes, and perhaps some notion of this wild sounding cry may be formed. Well, after having thus repeated "the neck" three times, and "wee yen" or way yen" as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets "the neck," and runs as hard as he can down to the farmhouse, where the dairy-maid, or one of the young female domestics, stands at the door prepared with a pail of water. he who holds "the neck" cau manage to get into the house, in any way unseen, or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise, he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. On a fine still autumn evening, the "crying of the neck" has a wonderful effect at a distance, far finer than that of the Turkish muezzin, which lord Byron eulogizes so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells in Christendom. I have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. About three years back, on some high grounds, where our people were harvesting, I heard six or seven "necks" cried in one night, although I know that some of them were four miles off. They are heard through the quiet evening air, at a considerable distance sometimes. But I think that the practice is beginning to decline of late, and many farmers and their men do not care about Keeping up this old custom I shall always patronise it myself, because I take it in the light of a thanksgiving. By the by, I was about to conclude, without endeavouring to explain the meaning of the words, we yen!" I had long taken them for Saxon, as the people of Devon are the true Saxon breed. But I think that I am wrong. I asked an old fellow about it the other day, and he is the only man who ever gave me a satisfactory explanation. He says, that the object of crying" the neck" is to give the surrounding country notice of the end of harvest, and

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yen! that they mean by "we yen!" we have ended. It may more probably mean "we end," which the uncouth and provincial pronunciation has corrupted into " yen!" I am, Sir, Your obedient servant, R. A. R.

we

July, 1826. P. S. In the above hastily written account, I should have mentioned that "the neck" is generally hung up in the farmhouse, where it remains sometimes three or four years. I have written "we yen," because I have always heard it so pronounced; they may articulate it differently in other parts of the country.

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Here's a health to our master,
The lord of the feast,
God bless his endeavours,

And send him increase;
May prosper his crops, boys,

That we may reap another year,
Here's your master's good health, boys,
Come, drink off your beer.
After supper the following:-
Now harvest is ended and supper is past,
Here's our mistress's good health, boys,
Come, drink a full glass;

For she is a good woman, she provides us
good cheer,

Here's your mistress's good health, boys,
Come, drink off beer.
your

The night is generally spent with great mirth, and the merry-makers seldom disperse till "Bright Phoebus has mounted his chariot of day."

I am, &c.

AN ESSEX MAN AND SUBSCRIBER

It is the advice of the most popular
of our old writers on husbandry, that—
In harvest time, harvest folke,
servants and all,
Should make, altogether,

good cheere in the hall:
And fill out the black bole,
of bleith to their song,
And let them be merry
all harvest time long.
Once ended thy harvest,
let none be beguilde,
Please such as did please thee,
man, woman, and chlild.
Thus doing, with alway
such help as they can,
Thou winnest the praise

of the labouring man.

Tusser.

"Tusser Redivivus" says, "This, the poor labourer thinks, crowns all; a good supper must be provided, and every one that did any thing towards the Inning must now have some reward, as ribbons, laces, rows of pins to boys and girls, if never so small, for their encouragement, and, to be sure, plumb-pudding. The men must now have some better than best drink, which, with a little tobacco and their screaming for their largesses, their

business will soon be done."

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Whereon "Tusser Redivivus" notes, that "the goose is forfeited, if they overthrow during harvest." A MS. note on a copy of Brand's "Antiquities," lent to the editor, cites from Boys's "Sandwich," an item "35 Hen. VIII. Spent when we ete our harvyst goose iijs. vid. and the goose xd.”

In France under Henry IV. it is cited by Mr. Brand from Seward, that "after the harvest, the peasants fixed upon some regale, (by them called the harvest gosholiday to meet together and have a little ling,) to which they invited not only each other, but even their masters, who pleased them very much when they condescended to partake of it."

According to information derived by Mr. Brand, it was formerly the custom at Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, for eack farmer to drive furiously home with the last load of his corn, while the people ran after him with bowls full of water in order to throw on it; and this usage was accompanied with great shouting.

HARVEST-HOME.

Who has not seen the cheerful harvest-home,
Enliv'ning the scorch'd field, and greeting gay
The slow decline of Autumn. All around
The yellow sheaves, catching the burning beam,
Glow, golden lustre; and the trembling stem
Of the slim oat, or azure corn-flow'r,

Waves on hedge-rows shady. From the hill
The day-breeze softly steals with downward wing,
And lightly passes, whisp'ring the soft sounds

Which moan the death of Summer. Glowing scene!
Nature's long holiday! Luxuriant, rich,
In her proud progeny, she smiling marks
Their graces, now mature, and wonder-fraught!
Hail! season exquisite !—and hail, ye sons
Of rural toil!—ye blooming daughters!—ye
Who, in the lap of hardy labour rear'd,
Enjoy the mind unspotted! Up the plain,
Or on the side-long hill, or in the glen,
Where the rich farm, or scatter'd hamlet, shows
The neighbourhood of peace ye still are found,
A merry and an artless throng, whose souls
Beam thro' untutor'd glances. When the dawn

Unfolds its sunny lustre, and the dew

Silvers the out-stretch'd landscape, labour's sons
Rise, ever healthful,—ever cheerily,

From sweet and soothing rest; for fev'rish dreams
Visit not lowly pallets! All the day

They toil in the fierce beams of fervid noon---
But toil without repining! The blithe song
Joining the woodland melodies afar,
Fling its rude cadence in fantastic sport
On Echo's airy wing! the pond'rous load
Follows the weary team: the narrow lane
Bears on its thick-wove hedge the scatter'd corn,
Hanging in scanty fragments, which the thorn
Purloin'd from the broad waggon.

To the brook
That ripples, shallow, down the valley's slope,
The herds slow measure their unvaried way;-
The flocks along the heath are dimly seen
By the faint torch of ev'ning, whose red eye
Closes in tearful silence. Now the air

Is rich in fragrance! fragrance exquisite!
Of new-mown hay, of wild thyme dewy wash'd,
And gales ambrosial, which, with cooling breath,
Ruffle the lake's grey surface. All around
The thin mist rises, and the busy tones
Of airy people, borne on viewless wings,
Break the short pause of nature. From the plain
The rustic throngs come cheerly, their loud din
Augments to mingling clamour. Sportive hinds,
Happy! more happy than the lords ye serve!-
How lustily your sons endure the hour

Of wintry desolation; and how fair
Your blooming daughters greet the op'ning dawn
Of love-inspiring spring!

Hail! harvest-home!

To thee, the muse of nature pours the song,
By instinct taught to warble! Instinct pure,
Sacred, and grateful, to that pow'r ador'd,
Which warms the sensate being, and reveals
The soul, self-evident, beyond the dreams
Of visionary sceptics! Scene sublime!

Where the rich earth presents her golden treasures;
Where balmy breathings whisper to the heart
Delights unspeakable! Where seas and skies,
And hills and vallies, colours, odours, dews,
Diversify the work of nature's God!

It was formerly the custom in the parish of Longforgan, in the county of Perth North Britain, to give what was called a maiden feast. "Upon the finishing of the harvest the last handful of corn reaped in the field was called the maiden. This was generally contrived to fall into the hands of one of the finest girls in the field, and was dressed up with ribands, and brought home in triumph with the music of fiddles or bagpipes. A good dinner was given to the

Mrs. Robinson.

whole band, and the evening spent in joviality and dancing, while the fortunate lass who took the maiden was the queen of the feast; after which this handful of corn was dressed out generally in the form of a cross, and hung up with the date of the year, in some conspicuous part of the house. This custom is now entirely done away, and in its room each shearer is given sixpence and a loaf of bread. However, some farmers, when all their corns are brought in, give their servants a dinner

and a jovial evening, by way of harvesthome."

* Statistical Account of Scotland.

The festival of the in-gathering in Scotland, is poetically described by the elegant author of the "British Georgics."

THE KIRN.

Harvest Home.

The fields are swept, a tranquil silence reigns,
And pause of rural labour, far and near.

Deep is the morning's hush; from grange to grange
Responsive cock-crows, in the distance heard,
Distinct as if at hand, soothe the pleased ear;
And oft, at intervals, the flail, remote,

Sends faintly through the air its deafened sound.

Bright now the shortening day, and blythe its close,
When to the Kirn the neighbours, old and young,
Come dropping in to share the well-earned feast.
The smith aside his ponderous sledge has thrown,
Raked up his fire, and cooled the hissing brand
His sluice the miller shuts; and from the barn
The threshers hie, to don their Sunday coats.
Simply adorned, with ribands, blue and pink,
Bound round their braided hair, the lasses trip
To grace the feast, which now is smoking ranged
On tables of all shape, and size, and height,
Joined awkwardly, yet to the crowded guests
A seemly joyous show, all loaded well:
But chief, at the board-head, the haggis round
Attracts all eyes, and even the goodman's grace
Prunes of its wonted length. With eager knife,
The quivering globe he then prepares to broach;
While for her gown some ancient matron quakes,
Her gown of silken woof, all figured thick
With roses white, far larger than the life,
On azure ground, her grannam's wedding garb,
Old as that year when Sheriffmuir was fought.
Old tales are told, and well-known jests abound,
Which laughter meets half way as ancient friends,
Nor, like the worldling, spurns because thread bare

When ended the repast, and board and bench
Vanish like thought, by many hands removed,
Up strikes the fiddle; quick upon the floor
The youths lead out the half-reluctant maids,
Bashful at first, and darning through the reels

With timid steps, till, by the music cheered,
With free and airy step, they bound along,
Then deftly wheel, and to their partner's face,
Turning this side, now that, with varying step.
Sometimes two ancient couples o'er the floor,
Skim through a reel, and think of youthful years.

Meanwhile the frothing bickers,* soon as filled,
Are drained, and to the gauntress† oft return,
Where gossips sit, unmindful of the dance.
Salubrious beverage! Were thy sterling worth
But duly prized, no more the alembic vast
Would, like some dire volcano, vomit forth
Its floods of liquid fire, and far and wide
Lay waste the land; no more the fruitful boon
Of twice ten shrievedoms, into poison turned,
Would taint the very life blood of the poor,
Shrivelling their heart-strings like a burning scroll.

In the island of Minorca, "Their harvests are generally gathered by the middie of June; and, as the corn ripens, a number of boys and girls station themselves at the edges of the fields, and on the tops of the fence-walls, to fright away the small birds with their shouts and cries. This puts one in mind of Virgil's precept in the first book of his 'Georgics,'

Et sonitu terrebis aves,'-

and was a custom, I doubt not, among the Roman farmers, from whom the ancient Minorquins learned it. They also use for the same purpose, a split reed, which makes a horrid rattling, as they

Ishake it with their hands."

In Northamptonshire, "within the liberty of Warkworth is Ashe Meadow, divided amongst the neighbouring parishes, and famed for the following customs observed in the mowing of it. The meadow is divided into fifteen portions, answering to fifteen lots, which are pieces of wood cut off from an arrow, and marked according to the landmarks in the field. To each lot are allowed eight mowers, amounting to one hundred and twenty in the whole. On the Saturday sevennight after midsummer-day, these portions are laid out by six persons, of whom two are chosen from Warkworth, two from Over

• Beakers.

Grahame.

thorp, one from Grimsbury, and one from Nethercote. These are called field-men, and have an entertainment provided for them upon the day of laying out the meadow, at the appointment of the lord of the manor. As soon as the meadow is measured, the man who provides the feast, attended by the hay-ward of Warkworth, brings into the field three gallons of ale. After this the meadow is run, as they term it, or trod, to distinguish the lots and, when this is over, the hay-ward brings into the field a rump of beef, six penny loaves, and three gallons of ale, and is allowed a certain portion of hay in return, though not of equal value with his provision. This hay-ward and the master of the feast have the name of crocus-men. In running the field each man hath a boy allowed to assist him. On Monday morning lots are drawn, consisting some of eight swaths and others of four. Of these the first and last carry the garlands. The two first lots are of four swaths, and whilst these are mowing, the mowers go double; and, as soon as these are finished, the following orders are read aloud :- Öyez, Oyez, Oyez, I charge you, under God, and in his majesty's name, that you keep the king's peace in the lord of the manor's behalf, according to the orders and cus. toms of this meadow. No man or men shall go before the two garlands; if you

+ Wooden frames on which beer casks are set.-Johnson.

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