This is the eleventh month of the year. The anglo-saxons gave names in their own tongue to each month, and "November they termed wint-monat, to wit, wind-moneth, whereby wee may see that our ancestors were in this season of the yeare made acquainted with blustring Boreas; and it was the antient custome for shipmen then to shrowd themselves at home, and to give over sea-faring (not withstanding the littlenesse of their then used voyages) untill blustring March had bidden them well to fare."* They like wise called it blot-monath. In the saxon, "blot" means blood; and in this month they killed great abundance of cattle for winter-store, or, according to some, for purposes of sacrifice to their deities.† Bishop Warburton commences a letter to his friend Hurd, with an allusion to the evil influence which the gloominess of this month is proverbially supposed to have on the mind. He dates from Bedford-row, October 28th, 1749:-"I am now got hither," he says, "to spend the month of November: the dreadful month of November! when the little wretches hang and drown themselves, and the great ones sell themselves to the court and the devil." "This is the month," says Mr. Leigh Hunt," in which we are said by the Frenchman to hang and drown ourselves We also agree with him to call it the gloomy month of November;' and, above all, with our in-door, money-getting, and unimaginative habits, all the rest of the year, we contrive to make it so. Not all of us, however: and fewer and fewer, we trust, every day. It is a fact well known to the medical philosopher, that, in proportion as people do not like air and exercise, their blood becomes darker and darker now what corrupts and thickens the circulation, and keeps the humours within the pores, darkens and clogs the mind; and we are then in a state to receive pleasure but indifferently or confusedly, and pain with tenfold painfulness. If we add to this a quantity of unnecessary cares and sordid mistakes, it is so much the worse. A love of nature is the refuge. He who grapples with March, and has the smiling eyes upon him of June and August, need have no fear of November.-And as the Italian proverb says, every medal has its reverse. November, with its loss of verdure, its frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and the visible approach of winter, is undoubtedly a gloomy month to the gloomy but to others, it brings but pensiveness, a feeling very far from destitute of pleasure; and if the healthiest and most imaginative of us may feel their spirits pulled down by reflections connected with earth, its mortalities, and its mistakes, we should but strengthen ourselves the more to make strong and sweet music with the changeful but harmonious movements of nature." This pleasant observer of the months further remarks, that, "There are many pleasures in November if we will lift up our matter-of-fact eyes, and find that there are matters-of-fact we seldom dream of. It is a pleasant thing to meet the gentle fine days, that come to contradict our sayings for us; it is a pleasant thing to see the primrose come back again in woods and meadows; it is a pleasant thing to catch the whistle of the green plover, and to see the greenfinches congregate; it is a pleasant thing to listen to the deep amorous note of the woodpigeons, who now come back again; and it is a pleasant thing to hear the deeper voice of the stags, making their triumphant love amidst the falling leaves. "Besides a quantity of fruit, our gardens retain a number of the flowers of last month, with the stripped lily in leaf; and, in addition to several of the flowering trees and shrubs, we have the fertile and glowing china-roses in flower: and in fruit the pyracantha, with its lustrous red-berries, that cluster so beautifully on the walls of cottages. This is the time also for domestic cultivators of flowers to be very busy in preparing for those spring and winter ornaments, which used to be thought the work of magic. They may plant hyacinths, dwarf tulips, polyanthus-narcissus, or any other moderately-growing bulbous roots, either in water-glasses, or in pots of light dry earth, to flower early in their apartments. If in glasses, the bulb should be a little in the water; if in pots, a little in the earth, or but just covered. They should be kept in a warm light room. "The trees generally lose their leaves in the following succession :— — walnut, mulberry, horse-chesnut, sycamore, lime, ash, then, after an interval, elm, then beech and oak, then apple and peachtrees, sometimes not till the end of November; and lastly, pollard oaks and young beeches, which retain their withered leaves till pushed off by their new ones in spring. Oaks that happen to be stripped of their leaves by chaffers, will often surprise the haunter of nature by being clothed again soon after midsummer with a beautiful vivid foliage. "The farmer endeavours to finish his ploughing this month, and then lays up his instruments for the spring. Cattle are kept in the yard or stable, sheep turned into the turnip-field, or in bad weather fed with hay; bees moved under shelter, and pigeons fed in the dove house. Among our autumnal pleasures, we ought not to have omitted the very falling of the leaves: To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air, C. Lamb "Towards the end of the month, under the groves and other shady places, they begin to lie in heaps, and to rustle to the foot of the passenger; and there they will lie till the young leaves are grown overhead, and spring comes to look down upon them with their flowers : O Spring! of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness, November 1. All Saints. St. Cæsarius, A. D. 300. St. Mary. M. St. Marcellus, Bp. of Paris, 5th Cent. St. Benignus, Apostle of Burgundy, A. D. 272. St. Austremonins, 3d Cent. St. Harold VI., King of Denmark, A. D. 980. All Saints. This festival in the almanacs and the church of England calendar is from the church of Rome, which celebrates it in commemoration of those of its saints, to whom, on account of their number, particular days could not be allotted in their individual honour. On this day, in many parts of England, apples are bobbed for, and nuts cracked, as upon its vigil, yesterday; and we still retain traces of other customs that we had in common with Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, in days of old. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Should the following excerpt relative to the first of November be of use to you, it is at your service, extracted from a scarce and valuable work by Dr. W. Owen Pughe, entitled "Translations of the Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hên, London, 1792." Triplets. 1. On All Saints day hard is the grain, The leaves are dropping, the puddle is full Woe to him that will trust a stranger. Sheliey. Ire "The first day of November was considered (among the ancient Welsh) as the conclusion of summer, and was celebrated with bonfires, accompanied with ceremonies suitable to the event, and some parts of Wales still retain these customs. land retains similar ones, and the fire that is made at these seasons, is called Beal teinidh, in the Irish language, and some antiquaries of that country, in establishing the eras of the different colonies planted in the island, have been happy enough to adduce as an argument for their Phoenician origin this term of Beal teinidh. "The meaning of tàn, (in Welsh), like the Irish teinidh, is fire, and Bal is simply a projecting springing out or expanding, and when applied to vegetation, it means a budding or shooting out of leaves and blossoms, the same as balant, of which it is the root, and it is also the root of bala and of blwydd, blwyddyn and blynedd, a year, or circle of vegetation. So the signification of bál dân, or tár. bál, would be the rejoicing fire for the vegetation, or for the crop of the year." The following seven triplets by Lly warch Hen, who lived to the surprising age of one hundred and forty years, and wrote in the sixth century, also relate to the subject. The translations, which are strictly literal, are also from the pen of Dr. Pughe Tribanau. 1. Calangauaf caled grawn Dail ar gychwyn, Uynwyn Uawn :- Gwae a ymddiried i estrawn On All Saints day the stags are lean, 2. Calangauaf cain gyfrin, Cyfred awel a drychin: Gwaith celwydd yw celu rhin. 3. Calangauaf cul hyddod Yellow are the tops of birch; deserted is the Melyn blaen bedw, gweddw hafod: Gwae a haedd mefyl er bychod ' 4. Calangauaf crwm blaen gwrysg Gnawd o ben diried derfysg; Lle ni bo dawn ni bydd dysg. 5. Calangauaf garw hin, Annhebyg i gyntefin : Namwyn Duw nid oes dewin. 6. Calangauaf caled cras, Am gwymp hen chwerddid gwen gwas. 7. Calangauaf Uwn goddaith, It will be perceived that each triplet, as was customary with the ancient Britong s accompanied by a moral maxim, without relation to the subject of the song. GWILYM SAIS. FLORAL DIRECTORY. Laurastinus. Laurastinus sempervirens November 2. All Souls; or the Commemoration of the Faithful departed. St. Victorinus Bp. A. D. 304. St. Marcian, A. D. 387. St. Vulgan, 8th Cent. All Souls This day, also a festival in the almanacs, and the church of England calendar, is from the Romish church, which celebrates it with masses and ceremonies devised for the occasion. "Odilon, abbot of Cluny, in the 9th century, first enjoined the ceremony of praying for the dead on this day in his own monastery; and the like practice was partially adopted by other religious houses until the year 998, when it was established as a general festival throughout the western churches. To mark the pre-eminent importance of this festival, if it happened on a Sunday it was not postponed to the Monday, as was the case with other such solemnities, but kept on the Saturday, in order that the church might the sooner aid the suffering souls · and, that the dead might have every benefit from the pious exerticns of the living, the remembrance of this ordinance was kept up, by persons dressed in black, who went round the FOR MY DAUGHTERS' HOUR-GLASS. Mark the golden grains that pass Brightly thro' this channell'd glass, Measuring by their ceaseless fall Heaven's most precious gift to all! Busy, till its sand be done, See the shining current run; But, th' allotted numbers shed, Another hour of life hath fled! Its task perform'd, its travail past, Like mortal man it rests at last!Yet let some hand invert its frame And all its powers return the saine, Whilst any golden grains remain 'Twill work its little hour again.But who shall turn the glass for man, When all his golden grains have ran? Who shall collect his scatter'd sand, Dispers'd by time's unsparing hand ?— Never can one grain be found, Howe'er we anxious search around! Then, daughters, since this truth is plain, That Time once gone ne'er comes again. Improv'd bid every moment pass— See how the sand rolls down your glass. Nov. 2. 1810. J. M. C. Mr. M'Creery first printed this little effusion of his just and vigorous mind on a small slip, one of which he gave at the time to the editor of the Every-Day Book, who if he has not like the little busy bee Improved each shining hour, is not therefore less able to determine the value of those that are gone for ever; nor therefore less anxious to secure each that may fall to him; nor less qualified to enjoin on his youthful readers the importance of this truth, "that time once gone, ne'er comes again." He would bid them remember, in the conscience - burning words of one of our poets, that "Time is the stuff that life is made of." Brady's Clavis Calendaria. FLORAL DIRECTORY. Winter Cherry. Physalis. Dedicated to St. Marcian. November 3. St. Malachi, Abp. of Armagh, A. D. 114) St. Hubert, Bp. of Leige, A. D. 727 St. Wenefride, or Winefride. St. Pa poul, or Papulus, 3d. Cent. St. Flour, A. D. 389. St. Rumwald. Without being sad, we may be serious; and continue to-day the theme of yesterday. poetical works several citations have alMr. Bowring, from whose former ready glistened these pages, in a subsequent collection of effusions, has versified to our purpose. He reminds us that— Man is not left untold, untaught, Untrain'd by heav'n to heavenly things; In life, in death, a voice is heard, On wand'ring thought, on wild'ring sense, Another poem is a translation FROM THE GERMAN. Ach wie nichtig, ach wie flüchtig. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is our earthly being! 'Tis a mist in wintry weather, Gather'd in an hour together, And as soon dispers'd in ether. O how cheating, O how fleeting Are our days departing! O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly beauty! O how cheating, O how fleeting Is the strength of mortals! On a lion's power they pride them, With security beside them Yet what overthrows betide them 1 O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly pleasure! O how cheating, O how fleeting He who wields a monarch's thunder, O how cheating, O how fleeting He who with poetic fiction O how cheating, O how fleeting O how cheating, O how fleeting O how cheating, O how fleeting O how cheating, O how fleeting Clad in purple-and elated, O how cheating, O how fleeting The same writer truly pictures our fearful estate, if we heed not the silent progress of "the enemy," that by proper attention we may convert into a friend. Time. On! on our moments hurry by He sports, he trifles time away, Till time is his to waste no more leedless he hears the surges play; And then is dash'd upon the shore. He has no thought of coming days, Though they alone deserve his thought And so the heedless wanderer strays, And treasures nought and gathers nought. Though wisdom speak—his ear is dull; Though virtue smile-he sees her not; His cup of vanity is full; And all besides forgone-forgot. 66 These "memorabilia" are from a threeshilling volume, entitled "Hymns, by John Bowring," intended as a sequel to the "Matins and Vespers." Mr. Bowring does not claim that his "little book" shall supply the place of similar productions. If it be allowed," he says, "to add any thing to the treasures of our devotional poetry; if any of its pages should be hereafter blended with the exercises of domestic and social worship; or if it shall be the companion of meditative solitude, the writer will be more than rewarded." All this gentleman's poetical works, diversified as they are, tend" to mend the heart." FLORAL DIRECTORY. Primrose. Primula vulgaris. Dedicated to St. Flour. November 4. St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal, Abp. of Milan, A. D. 1584. Sts. Vitalis and Agrtcola, A. D. 304. St. Joannicius, Abbot, A. D. 845. St. Clarus, a. D. 894. St. Brinstan, Bp. of Winchester, A. D. 931. KING WILLIAM LANDED. So say our almanacs, directly in opposition to the fact, that king William III. did not land until the next day, the 5th: we have only to look into our annals and be assured that the almanacs are in error. Rapin says, "The fourth of November being Sunday, and the prince's birthday, now (in 1688) thirty-eight years of age, was by him dedicated to devotion; the fleet still continuing their course, in order to land at Dartmouth, or Torbay. But in the night, whether by the violence of the wind, or the negligence of the pilot, the fleet was carried beyond the desired ports without a possibility of putting back, such was the fury of the wind. But soon after, the wind turned to the south, which happily carried the fleet into Tor |