Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid,
Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek.
Even stooping age is here; and infant hands
Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load
O'ercharged, amid the kind oppression roll.
Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row
Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field,
They spread the breathing harvest to the sun,
That throws refreshful round a rural smell:
Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground,
And drive the dusky wave along the mead,
The russet hay-cock rises thick behind,

In order gay.

While heard from dale to dale
Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice
Of happy labour, love, and social glee.

The hay-time, however, is often a season of great anxiety when the weather is wet and catching. The provident farmer generally provides a covering for his rising and otherwise defenceless stack or cock. The return of peace has enabled government to sell off much of their army stores, and the tents have been disposed of to make retreats and shelters in the pleasure-ground and hay-field, or to defend the stack from the rain till it is completed and thatched. This is indeed a fit accompaniment of beating our swords into ploughshares. Long may many thousands' of

such tents

Rise in the air, and whiten all our vales.

About this time, birds cease their notes. We take a farewel of the nightingale in the following pretty sonnet:

Sweet poet of the woods, a long adieu!

Farewel, soft minstrel of the early year!
Ah! 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew,
And pour thy music on the night's dull ear.
Whether on Spring thy wandering flights await,
Or whether silent in our groves you dwell,
The pensive muse shall own thee for her mate,
And still protect the song she loves so well.
With cautious step, the love-lorn youth shall glide
Through the lone brake that shades thy mossy nest,

And shepherd girls from eyes profane shall hide
The gentle bird, who sings of Pity best:
For still thy voice shall soft affections move
And still be dear to sorrow and to love!

SMITH.

The rural economy of sheep-shearing usually takes place in June, and was formerly celebrated with much innocent pastime. See our last volume, p. 172.

The following plants are generally seen in flower about the end of June: goat's beard (tragopogon pratense), deadly nightshade (atropa belladonna), meadow-sweet (spirea ulmaria), the day-lily (hemerocallis flava), the holy-oak (alcea rosa), and the jasmine (jasminum officinale).

The maritime plants which flower this month are, the sea-barley (hordeum maritimum), sulphur-wort (pucedanum officinale), and loose sedge (carex distans), in salt marshes; the sea-plantain (plantago maritima), among rocks on the sea-coast; and slender-leaved buffonia (buffonia tenuifolia), and the tassel pond-weed (ruppia maritima), in salt water ditches. To these may be added, the common alkanet (anchusa officinalis), the narrow-leaved pepperwort (lepidum ruderale), and the Roman nettle (urtica pilulifera), in sea wastes; the black salt-wort (glaux maritima), on muddy shores; the sea chickweed (arenaria peploides), and the common searocket (bunias cakile), on sandy shores; and the perfoliate cabbage (brassica orientalis) among maritime rocks.

The trees, particularly the laurels and evergreens, now make their second or midsummer shoots, the younger and lighter shades of which form a variety and contrast to the darker and yellow colours of the first shoots. The acacia at length puts out its elegant light and bright foliage, and its tassels of whitepapilionaceous flowers, which emulate the orange in scent.

The innumerable species of insects that are called

into life by the heat in this month, afford a never failing source of amusement and instruction to the admirer of Nature's minutest works. Many of these are only discoverable by the microscope, and are eminently worthy of our observation. For a variety of pleasing experiments with the microscope, we refer to T. T. for 1819, pp. 156, 183. See also Mr. Samouelle's Entomologist's Useful Compendium, pp. 323-337, for much curious information on the subject.

2

We conclude this month's diary with a description of the 'farm-yard,' by M. KLEIST, author of 'Spring,' a poem, from which some beautiful extracts were given in our last volume.

In the court-yard extends a fish-pond clear,
On whose bright surface other skies appear,
A boundless space; in whose expansive blank
The eye is lost. Upon the sloping bank,

The hen, with ruffled plumes, and mournful tone,
Calls the young brood she falsely thinks her own;
Anxious the little heedless things to save

From all the terrors of the fatal wave.
By instinct led, her voice they disobey,
And in the rippling pool delighted play.

The long-necked geese, fierce bullying hiss around,
And from their young ones drive the curious hound.

A pretty, little, busy, bustling maid,

With her neat basket on her arm displayed,
To give her feathered care their daily food
Runs through the yard, by all the train pursued.
She stops and waving now her empty hand,
Delights to tantalize the greedy band;
Now as at once the show'ring grain she sheds,
They peck, and scramble o'er each others' heads.
In his dark hole the snow-white rabbit lies,
And watchful rolls around his fiery eyes.
The cooing pigeon leaves his woody nest,
Adjusts with crimson foot his changing breast,
Where all the rainbow's various colours bloom,
And sooths with stroking bill each ruffled plume:
Then seeks his mate upon the topmost roof,
While she in jealous anger keeps aloof.

But soon he hears the soft relenting fair,
Who fondly calls him; then the happy pair
Together spread their airy wings on high,
And o'er the blooming garden hov'ring fly.

JULY.

THIS word is derived from the Latin Julius, the surname of C. Cæsar, the dictator, who was born in it. Mark Anthony first gave to this month the name of July, which was before called Quintilis, as being the fifth month in the year, in the old Roman calendar established by Romulus.

Remarkable Days

In JULY 1821.

2.-VISITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. THIS festival was first instituted by Pope Urban VI, in commemoration of that remarkable journey which the Mother of our Lord took into the mountains of Judæa, in order to visit the mother of St. John the Baptist.

3.-DOG-DAYS BEGIN.

These are a certain number of days before and after the heliacal rising of Canicula, or the dog-star, in the morning. The dog-days in our modern Almanacks occupy the time from July 3d to August 11th; the name being applied now, as it was formerly, to the hottest time of the year.

4. TRANSLATION OF SAINT MARTIN.

This day was appointed to commemorate the removal or translation of St. Martin's body from one tomb to another much more noble and magnificent; an honour conferred upon the deceased saint by Perpetuus, one of his successors in the see of Tours.

j

His festival is celebrated on the 11th of November, which see.

*6. 1535.-SIR THOMAS MORE BEheaded.

On being found guilty, and receiving sentence as a traitor, he addressed the court, concluding with these words: 'I have nothing further to say, my lords, but that as the blessed apostle St. Paul was present, and consented to the death of Stephen, and kept their clothes who stoned him to death, and yet they are now both holy saints in heaven, and shall there continue friends for ever; so I verily trust, and shall therefore right heartily pray, that though your lordships have now been judges on earth to my condemnation, we may yet hereafter all meet in heaven to our everlasting salvation; and so I pray God preserve you all, and especially my sovereign lord the King, and send him faithful counsellors.'

On the morning of his execution, he dressed himself in the best clothes he had; and when the Lieutenant of the Tower suggested that these were too good for the executioner's perquisite, 'If they were cloth of gold,' said Sir Thomas, I should think them well bestowed on him who was to do me so singular a benefit.' He was prevailed on, however, to exchange them for a gown of frieze; and out of the little money which he had left, he sent an angel of gold to the executioner.

About nine o'clock he was led to the place of execution on Tower-hill, where, observing that the scaffold was apparently a weak structure, he said to the Lieutenant, I pray you, Mr. Lieutenant, see me safe up; and as for my coming down, you may let me shift for myself.' He then knelt down, and, after a short time spent in his devotions, got up again, and said to the executioner, 'pluck up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do thine office. My neck is very short; take heed, therefore, that thou strike not awry, for thy credit's sake.' In the same humour, he bid the executioner stay till he had removed