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August 31.

GRASSHOPPERS.

It was observed at the end of August, 1742, great damage was done to the pastures in the country, particularly about Bristol by swarms of grasshoppers; and the like happened in the same year at Pennsylvania to a surprising degree.*

In 1476, "Grasshoppers and the great rising of the river Isula did spoyle al Poland."+

Grasshoppers are infested by a species of "insect parasites" thicker than a horse hair, and of a brown colour. It consumes the intestines, and at first sight in the body of the grasshopper, has been mistaken for the intestines themselves.

The eminent entomologist who mentions this fact, observes that "insects generally answer the most beneficial ends,

Gentleman's Magazine. † Bateman's Doome.

and promote in various ways, and in an extraordinary degree, the welfare of man and animals." The evils resulting from them occur partially when they abound beyond their natural limits, "God permitting this occasionally to take place, not merely with punitive views, but also to show us what mighty effects he can produce by instruments seemingly the most insignificant: thus calling upon us to glorify his power, wisdom, and goodness, so evidently manifested, whether he relaxes or draws tight the reins by which he guides insects in their course, and regulates their progress; and more particularly to acknowledge his overruling Providence so conspicuously exhibited by his measuring them, as it were, and weighing them, and taking them out, so that their numbers, forces, and powers, being annually proportioned to the work he has prescribed to them, they may neither exceed his purpose, nor fall short of it.” *

• Kirby and Spence's Entomology.

THE VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES.

A Scene near the Hotwells, Bristol.f

"Then said I, master, pleasant is this place
And sweet are those melodious notes I hear;
And happy they, among man's toiling race,
Who, of their cares forgetful, wander near."

To those who might not happen to know St. Vincent's rocks, Clifton, and the very beautiful scenery near the Hotwells, Bristol, it might be desirable to state that the river Avon winds here through a sinuous defile, on one side of which "the rocks" rise perpendicularly in a bold yet irregular manner, to the height of many hun

Bowles,

dred feet; the opposite side is not so bold, but it is, nevertheless, extremely beautiful, being clothed in many places with wood, and has besides a VALLEY, through which you may ascend to Leigh Down. This valley has been named the "Valley of Nightingales," no doubt, in consequence of those birds making it their resort.

"Where foliaged full in vernal pride

Retiring winds thy favourite vale
And faint the moan of Avon's tide,"
Remurmurs to the nightingale."

In a note, Mr. ELTON informs us that this stanza alludes to the "Valley of Nightingales opposite St. Vincent's rocks at Clifton." The lovers of the picturesque will here find ample gratification. If, in the following poem, the truth in natural history be a little exceeded in reference to a troop of nightingales, it is hoped that the poetical licence will be pardoned.

C. A. Elton's Poems, Disappointment.

The vicinity of the Hotwells has been lately much improved by a carriage drive beneath and around those rocks.

+From "Ornithologia; or the Birds, a Poem, with an introduction to their natural history, and copious notes, by James Jennings, author of Observations on the Dialects of the West of England," &c. &c. This work has been for some time ready for the press, but its appearance is delayed in consequence of the depressed state of trade.

Seest thou yon tall ROCKS where, midst sunny light beaming,
They lift up their heads and look proudly around;
While numerous choughs, with their cries shrill and screaming,
Wheel from crag unto crag, and now o'er the profound?

Seest thou yonder VALLEY where gushes the fountain;
Where the nightingales nestling harmoniously sing;
Where the mavis and merle and the merry lark mounting,
In notes of wild music, now welcome the spring.
Seest thou yonder shade, where the woodbine ascending,
Encircles the hawthorn with amorous twine,
With the bryony scandent, in gracefulness blending;
What sweet mingled odours scarce less then divine!
Hearest thou the blue ring-dove in yonder tree cooing;
The red-breast, the hedge-sparrow, warble their song;
The cuckoo, with sameness of note ever wooing;

Yet ever to pleasure such notes will belong!

And this is the VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES ;-listen

To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,
Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,
There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.

Seest thou yon proud ship on the stream adown sailing,
O'er ocean, her course, to strange climes she now bends;
Oh! who may describe the deep sobs or heart-wailing
Her departure hath wrought amongst lovers and friends?

The rocks now re-echo the songs of the sailor

As he cheerfully bounds on his watery way;

But the maiden !-ah! what shall that echo avail her,
When absence and sorrow have worn out the day?

Behold her all breathless, still gazing, pursuing,

And waving, at times, with her white hand adieu;
On the rock now she sits, with fixed eye, the ship viewing:
No picture of fancy-but often too true.

Dost thou see yon flush'd HECTIC, of health poor remainder,

With a dark hollow eye, and a thin sunken cheek;

While AFFECTION hangs o'er him with thoughts that have pained her,
And that comfort and hope, still forbid her to speak?*

Yes, FRIENDSHIPS! AFFECTIONS! ye ties the most tender!
Fate, merciless fate, your connection will sever;

To that tyrant remorseless-all, all must surrender!
I once had a SoN-HERE we parted for ever!†

Now the sun, o'er the earth, rides in glory uncloud
The rocks and the valleys delightedly sing;
The BIRDS in wild concert, in yonder wood shrouded,
Awake a loud CHORUS to welcome the spring.

And this is the valley of nightingales ;-listen

To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between, Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten, There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature... 61 72.

The hot wells are, unfortunately, too often the last resor of the consumptive. † A promising youth who died some years since at Berbice.

J.

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Harvest-Home at Hawkesbury on Cotswold.

The last in-gathering of the crop
Is loaded, and they climb the top,
And there huzza with all their force,
While Ceres mounts the foremost horse:

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Gee-up!" the rustic goddess cries,

And shouts more long and loud arise;
The swagging cart, with motion slow,
Reels careless on, and off they go!

HARVEST-HOME is the great August
festival of the country.
VOL. II.--89.

An account of this universal merrymaking may commence with a communi

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cation from a lady, which the engraving graceful a stock, I ascertained two or is designed to illustrate.

66

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Westbury, Wiltshire, August 8, 1826. Sir, The journal from whence I extract the following scene was written nearly two years ago, during a delightful excursion I made in company with one near and dear," and consequently before your praiseworthy endeavours to perpetuate old customs had been made public. Had my journey taken place during the present harvest month, the trifle I now send should have been better worth your perusal, for I would have investigated for your satisfaction a local custom, that to me was sufficiently delightful in a passing glance. I am, Sir, &c.

I. J. T.

HAWKESBURY HARVEST HOME. September, 1824.--After dinner, at Wotton-under-edge, we toiled up the side and then struck off again towards the middle of the hills, leaving all beauty in the rear; and from thence, until our arrival at Bath the next day, nothing is worth recording, but one little pleasing incident, which was the celebration of a harvest-home, at the village of Hawkesbury, on the top of Cotswold.

As we approached the isolated hamlet, we were "aware" of a Maypole that unsophisticated trophy of innocence, gaiety, and plenty; and as we drew near, saw that it was decorated with flowers and ribands fluttering in the evening breeze. Under it stood a waggon with its full complement of men, women, children, flowers, and corn; and a handsome team of horses tranquilly enjoying their share of the finery and revelry of the scene; for scarlet bows and sunflowers had been lavished on their winkers with no niggard hand. On the first horse sat a damsel, no doubt intending to represent Ceres; she had on, of course, a white dress and straw bonnet-for could Ceres or any other goddess appear in a rural English festival in any other costume? A broad yellow sash encompassed a waist that evinced a glorious and enormous contempt for classical proportion and modern folly in its elaborate dimensions.

During the rapid and cordial glance that I gave this questionable scion of so

three circumstances-that she was goodnatured, that she enjoyed the scene as a downright English joke, and that she had the most beautiful set of teeth I ever beheld. What a stigma on all toothdoctors, tooth-powders, and tooth-brushes. There was something very affecting in this simple festival, and I felt my heart heave, and that the fields looked indistinct for some minutes after we had lost sight of its primitive appearance; however it may now, I thought, be considered by the performers as a good joke," it had its origin, doubtless, in some of the very finest feelings that can adorn humanity-hospitality, sociality, happiness, contentment, piety, and gratitude.

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Our fair correspondent adds :

P. S.-Intelligence could surely be obtained from the spot, or the neighbourhood, of the manner of celebrating the festival; it is probably peculiar to the range of the Cotswold; and a more elaborate account of so interesting a custom would, doubtless, be valuable to yourself, sir, as well as to your numerous readers. I can only regret that my ability does not equal my will, on this or any other subject, that would forward your views in publishing your admirable Every-Day Book.

The editor inserts this hint to his readers in the neighbourhood of Cotswold, with a hope that it will induce them to oblige him with particulars of what is passing under their eyes at this season every day. He repeats that accounts of these, or any other customs in any part of the kingdom, will be especially acceptable.

Another correspondent has obligingly complied with an often expressed desire on this subject.

HARVESTING ON SUNDAY.

London, August 4, 1826. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,-As you request, on the wrapper of your last part, communications, &c., respecting harvest, I send you the following case of a very singular nature, that came before the synod of Glasgow and Ayr.

In the harvest of 1807, there was a great deal of wet weather. At the end of one of the weeks it brightened up, and a drying wind prepared the corn for

We are informed on the authority of Macrobius, that among the heathens, the masters of families, when they had got in their harvest, were wont to feast with their servants, who had laboured for them in tilling the ground. In exact conformity to this, it is common among Christians, when the fruits of the earth are gathered in, and laid in their proper repositories, to provide a plentiful supper for the harvest men and the servants of the family. At this entertainment, all are in the modern revolutionary idea of the word, perfectly equal. Here is no distinction of persons, but master and servant sit at the same table, converse freely together, and spend the remainder of the night in dancing, singing, &c., in the most easy familiarity. Bourne thinks the origin of both these customs is Jewish, and cites Hospinian, who tells us that the heathens copied after this custom of the Jews, and at the end of their harvest, offered up their firstfruits to the gods, for the Jews rejoiced and feasted at the getting in of the harvest.

being housed. The rev. Mr. Wright, minister of Mayhole, at the conclusion of the forenoon service on the following sabbath-day, stated to his congregation, that he conceived the favourable change of the weather might be made use of to save the harvest on that day, without violating the sabbath. Several of his parishioners availed themselves of their pastor's advice. At the next meeting of presbytery, however, one of his reverend brethren thought proper to denounce him, as having viofated the fourth commandment; and a solemn inquiry was accordingly voted by a majority of the presbytery. Against this resolution, a complaint and appeal were made to the synod at the last meeting. Very able pleadings were made on both sides, after which it was moved and seconded, "That the synod should find that the presbytery of Ayr have acted in this manner, in a precipitate and informal manner, and that their sentence ought to be reversed." It was also moved and seconded, "That the synod find the presbytery of Ayr have acted properly, and that it should be remitted to them to take such further steps in this business as they may judge best." After reasoning at considerable length, the synod, without a vote, agreed to set aside the whole proceedings of the presbytery in this business.* This subject reminds me of the following is hope; reaping, fruition of the exing verses to urge the use of "the time present."

DELAYS.

By Robert Southwell, 1595.
Shun delays, they breed remorse;
Take thy time, while time is lent thee;
Creeping snails have weakest force;

Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee;
Good is best, when soonest wrought,
Ling'ring labours come to naught.
Hoist up sail while gale doth last,
Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure;
Seek not time, when time is past,

Sober speed is wisdom's leisure.
After wits are dearly bought,
Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought.
Time wears all bis locks behind;

Take thou hold upon his forehead;
When he flies, he turns no more,
And behind his scalp is naked.
Works adjourn'd have many stays;
Long demurs breed new delays.
I am, Sir,

Your obliged and constant reader,
R. R.

* Literary Panorama, 1807.

This festivity is undoubtedly of the most remote antiquity. That men in all nations, where agriculture flourished, should have expressed their joy on this occasion by some outward ceremonies, has its foundation in the nature of things. Sow

pected good. To the husbandman, whom the fear of wet, blights, &c. had harrassed with great anxiety, the completion of his wishes could not fail of imparting an enviable feeling of delight. Festivity is but the reflex of inward joy, and it could hardly fail of being produced on this oc casion, which is a temporary suspension of every care.*

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