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 inconvenience of an attitude which would have been a torment to any one 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 twentyeight, 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 Sene

gal, 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.*

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. OYSTER DAY.

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.*

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.
*.*. P.

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 senior," An oyster crossed in love," has been very popular.

CHRONOLOGY.

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 Richard

Bray, a privy counsellor to king Henry VI. In the first year of Richard III. Reginald had a general pardon, for having He favoured the advancement of the earl adhered, it is presumed, to Henry VI. 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.

ST. AFRA.

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.

ST. ULRIC.

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.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature.... 63. 20.

August 8.

THE SEASON.

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.