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BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS: 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES GRAHAME. 
 
 Divini gloria ruris. 
 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 o 
 iprinteti ht 31amc0 38allantgne anb £o. 
 
 FOR JOHN BALLANTYNE AND CO. AND BROWN AND 
 
 CROMBIE, EDINBURGH; AND LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND OHME, 
 
 AND JOHN MURRAY, LONDON. 
 
 1809. 
 
^ 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 i 
 
 In the following Poem, I have not attempted to 
 exhibit a system of husbandry. I have aimed not 
 so much to instruct as to amuse; not to teach a 
 science, but to recommend the study of it. As in- 
 timately connected with that study, and as a sub- 
 ject of infinite importance in itself, 1 have pointed 
 my view more or less directly to the situation and 
 manners of the peasantry. It is my wish to draw 
 the attention of landed proprietors to that most im- 
 portant class of the community, and to persuade 
 
 them, that the welfare of the country depends in 
 
 b 
 
ii PREFACE. 
 
 a great measure on preserving the cultivators of 
 the soil in that relative state of respectability, com- 
 fort, and consequence, which they have hitherto 
 held, but which the fashionable system of agricul- 
 ture has an evident tendency to destroy. In this 
 view, though I am no friend to idleness, I am hum- 
 bly of opinion that innocent recreations ought to 
 be encouraged ; that festivals, holidays, customary 
 sports, and every institution which adds an hour 
 of importance, or of harmless enjoyment, to the 
 poor man's heart, ought to be religiously observed. 
 
 Descriptions, therefore, of old customs, some of 
 them unhappily on the wane, I conceived might 
 be useful, as tending not only to preserve their re- 
 membrance, but even perhaps to retard the rapi- 
 dity of their decline. But while I say that such 
 was my aim, I am far from arrogating to myself 
 
PREFACE. Hi 
 
 the merit of having succeeded in that aim. To 
 draw a picture of rural life, so truly, and at the 
 same time so pleasingly, as to render the original 
 an object of higher interest than it was before, is 
 no easy task. The merit to which I lay claim is 
 that merely of fidelity. 
 
 If the title which I have chosen should be deem- 
 ed an assuming one, 1 beg leave to observe, that 
 the word Georgics, though the title of the most 
 beautiful and complete of Virgil's works, is as much 
 the appropriate term for a poem on husbandry, as 
 the word Tragedy is for a particular species of dra- 
 matic composition. 
 
 In having chosen a theme that has been illus- 
 trated by the genius of Virgil, I trust I shall be 
 acquitted of temerity, when it is considered that 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 the British isles differ in so many respects from the 
 countries to which Virgil's Georgics alluded ; — -in 
 soil, climate, and productions, in men and manners, 
 that the art of agriculture, in reference to the one, 
 may well be considered as quite a different subject 
 from what it is in reference to the other. 
 
 That I have been preceded by Thomson, is a con- 
 sideration of a more serious kind. He, no doubt, 
 with a genius and felicity which none of his fol- 
 lowers need ever hope to equal, has described many 
 of the most striking appearances of Nature, and 
 many of the most poetical processes, so to speak, 
 of husbandry. But though he has reaped, why 
 may not others be permitted to glean ? 
 
 On the topics of that faithful and amiable paint- 
 er of rustic life, Bloomfield, I have rarely encroach- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ed ; his allusions refer to a district of the island, 
 and to appearances and customs, very different from 
 those which I have had in my eye. My allusions 
 relate chiefly to Scotland, to Scottish hushandry, 
 scenery, and manners. At the same time, I will 
 venture to say, that the modes of cultivation which 
 I recommend are not, strictly speaking, local. That 
 the scenery and manners are local, or rather na- 
 tional, is true ; but the rules of agricultural im- 
 provement which I have inculcated, whether by 
 description or direct precept, are equally suitable 
 to both divisions of the island. It may here be re- 
 marked, that the crops, in many districts north of 
 the Tweed, are at least equal to any that England 
 can boast of; and that, in truth, Scotland has 
 found a compensation for the inferiority of her 
 soil and climate, in the skill and enterprise of her 
 husbandmen. 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 That I am not a practical farmer, is a circum- 
 stance which must, no doubt, derogate from my 
 authority as a writer on agriculture, and may even 
 perhaps draw on my present attempt the imputa- 
 tion of presumption. In my justification, I would 
 observe, that though I have never practised the bu- 
 siness, I have studied it, both by much actual ob- 
 servation, and some reading. From my infancy, I 
 have in general passed near the half, sometimes a 
 greater portion of the year, in the country. To 
 the appearances of Nature, and the operations of 
 Agriculture, my attention, though without any 
 particular aim, was long directed; and of late 
 years I have been stimulated to diligence and ac- 
 curacy of observation, partly with a view to my 
 present undertaking, and partly by a half-formed 
 intention which I at different periods have har- 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 boured, of devoting a portion of my time to the 
 business of husbandry. 
 
 On the abuse of Notes much has of late been 
 said, and justly said, both by critics and readers. 
 With respect to the notes, which compose the con- 
 cluding part of this volume, I can safely say, that, 
 in adding them, I have been induced, by a firm 
 conviction that they would form a useful supple- 
 ment to the poetical part of the work. In a com- 
 position partly didactic, it is often impossible to 
 reconcile minuteness and precision with poetry. 
 And even with regard to those topics, on which I 
 have somewhat enlarged, explanation appeared not 
 to be superfluous. My deficiency, too, of profes- 
 sional authority, seemed to require a frequent re- 
 ference to authors, who united practical to theore- 
 tical knowledge. When to these considerations is 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 
 added this,-- -that allusions to manners and customs 
 are, of all others, those which most generally re- 
 quire illustration, and that the manners and cus- 
 toms, which are the subjects either of allusion or 
 of description in the following poem, are many of 
 them peculiar to one only of the united kingdoms, 
 I trust that, in the judgment of every candid reader, 
 I shall be acquitted of having practised the unwor- 
 thy device of increasing the bulk without adding 
 to the value of my work. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3famtarp. 
 
 All Nature feels the renovating force 
 Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 
 In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glebe 
 Draws in abundant vegetable soul, 
 And gathers vigour for the coming year. 
 
 Thomson, 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Short sketch of the subject, — Shortness of the day — Address to 
 Night — Morning of the first day of the year — Cessation of la- 
 bour — Conviviality and joy of the day — Some labours cannot be 
 delayed — Feeding cattle and sheep — Examine fences — Shelter 
 derived from fences — Improvement of climate from fences — 
 Hedges preferable in this respect to walls — Illustration of this 
 — Objection to hedges and belts answered — A heavier fall of 
 snow — Morning — Threshers-^ Storm of snow — Shepherd out 
 with his flock in the night — Snow scene in clear weather — 
 Driving manure and lime — Care of horses — Bedding — Supper- 
 ing — Hen-roost — Foumart — A serene morning and day—Ef- 
 fects of sun on sheltered spots — Ice scenes — Bonspiel between 
 rival districts. — Cottage fireside scene in the evening — Beading 
 — This scene not fictitious in Scotland — Parish schools — Ap- 
 peal on the advantages of public instruction — Remonstrance 
 with those who lately opposed the principle of parish schools in 
 England. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3fanuarj). 
 
 X he labours of the plough, the various toils 
 That, still returning with the changeful year, 
 Demand the husbandman's and cottar's 1 care; 
 The joys and troubles of the peasant's life ; 
 His days and nights of festive mirth, that serve, 
 Though few, yet long foreseen, remembered long, 
 To lighten every task ; his rural sports 
 Afield, at home ; the fickle season's signs ; 
 The varying face of nature, wood, and stream, 
 And sky, and fruitful field, — these now I sing. 
 
 Cottager. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS 
 
 The wintry sun shoots forth a feeble glimpse, 
 Then yields his short-lived empire to the night. 
 Hail, Night ! pavilioned 'neath the rayless cope, 
 I love thy solemn state, profoundly dark ; 
 Thy sable pall ; thy lurid throne of clouds, 
 Viewless save by the lightning's flash ; thy crown, 
 That boasts no starry gem ; thy various voice, 
 That to the heart, with eloquence divine, 
 Now in soft whispers, now in thunder speaks. 
 Not undelightful is thy reign to him 
 Who wakeful gilds, with reveries bright, thy gloom, 
 Or listens to the music of the storm, 
 And meditates on Him who sways its course : 
 Thy solemn state I love, yet joyful greet 
 The long-expected dawn's ambiguous light, 
 That faintly pencils out the horizon's verge. 
 
 Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe morn 
 
JANUARY. 
 
 Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock, 
 Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shrill ; 
 But on that morn no busy flail obeys 
 His rousing call; no sounds but sounds of joy 
 Salute the year, — the first-foot's 1 entering step, 
 That sudden on the floor is welcome heard, 
 Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ; 
 The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year 
 Pronounced with honest warmth . In village, grange, 
 And burrow town, the steaming flaggon, borne 
 From house to house, elates the poor man's heart, 
 And makes him feel that life has still its joys. 
 The aged and the young, man, woman, child, 
 Unite in social glee ; even stranger dogs, 
 Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside 
 Their snarling aspect, and in sportive chace, 
 
 1 The first visitant who enters a house on new-year's-day is called 
 the jirs t-foot. 
 
6 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow. 
 With sober cheerfulness, the grandam eyes 
 Her offspring round her, all in health and peace ; 
 And, thankful that she's spared to see this day 
 Return once more, breathes low a secret prayer, 
 That God would shed a blessing on their heads. 
 
 Thus morning passes, till, far south, the sun 
 Shines dimly through the drift, and warning gives, 
 That all the day must not be idly spent. 
 Some works brook not delay ; the stake, the stall, 
 And fold, at this rough season, most demand 
 Assiduous care ; the sheep-rack must be filled 
 With liberal arms, and, from the turnip field, 
 A plenteous load should spread the boulted snow ; 
 While winterers, by hedge or bush that cowr, 
 Expect their wonted sheaf. 
 
JANUARY. 
 
 Throughout this month 
 Much it imports your fences to survey; 
 For oft the heifers, tempted by the view 
 Of some green spot, where springs ooze out, and thaw 
 The falling flakes as fast as they alight, 
 Bound o'er the hedge ; or at neglected gaps 
 Burst scrambling through, and widen every breach. 
 A stake put timely in, or whinny bush, 
 Until the season come when living plants 
 May fill the vacant space, much harm prevents. 
 
 Some husbandmen deem fences only formed 
 To guard their fields from trespass of their own 
 Or neighbours' herd or flock ; and lightly prize 
 The benefits immense which shelter brings. 
 Mark how, within the shelter of a hedge, 
 The daisy, long ere winter quits the plain, 
 Opens its yellow bosom to the sun. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 A hedge full grown, if with a hedge-row joined, 
 Or circling belt, the climate of your field 
 Improves, transmutes from bleak and shivering cold 
 To genial warmth : no graduated scale 
 Is needed to demonstrate this plain truth, 
 Obvious as true ; for there a vivid green 
 Tinges your early sward, there lingers long 
 When winter winds have blanched the neighbour- 
 ing lea. 
 
 Some fences tend but little to abate 
 The biting cold ;— — the wall, unless around 
 A narrow field, or raised of towering height, 
 But small degree of sheltering warmth affords. 
 It is by artificial calm that fields 
 Are warmed ; and walls but slightly check 
 The sweeping blast. The liquid air is ruled 
 By laws analagous to those which sway 
 
JANUARY. 
 
 The watery element : — See how a stream 
 Surmounts obstructing rocks, or crossing dams, 
 Seeming as if resistance gave new force ; 
 But, if obstructed by a fallen tree, 
 Or dipping branch, smoothly it glides along 
 In gentler course, and dimples as it flows ; 
 So through the pervious check of spray and twig, 
 The blast, impeded in its course, not turned, 
 Slackens its boisterous speed, and sighs along the 
 vale. 
 
 Whoe'er delights in sheltered winter walks, 
 Or garden well protected from the blight 
 Of nipping winds, should cultivate the beech. 
 Quickly it grows, and through the year retains 
 Its foliage : withered though it be, yet warm, 
 Its very rustle warms the wint'ry blast. 
 
10 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 List not to him, who says that sheltered fields 
 Suffer from lack of air ; that corn once lodged 
 Is lost, if not exposed to every breeze. 
 True wisdom oft consists but in a choice 
 Of ills ; and, if sometimes luxuriant crops 
 Are injured by an atmosphere confined, 
 Far oftener are they in their early stage 
 Protected thus from pelting rains, which else 
 Lay bare the roots, and save, I ween, all risque 
 Of growth luxuriant, or of prostrate stalks. 
 
 Now broadened, blinding flakes, by day, by nighty 
 In thickening showers descend, and oft, ere morn, 
 The crow of chanticleer, obtusely heard, 
 Announces that a deeper fall has thatched 
 His chinky roof; the doors are half blocked up ; 
 From house to barn the path deep buried lies ; 
 And, nigh waist-deep sinking, the threshers wade 
 
JANUARY. 11 
 
 To ply their early task. Cheerful the sound 
 Of double strokes, ceasing but till the sheaf 
 Be turned, or new one loosed : but sorrowful 
 The sound of single flail ; it tells that peace 
 Is not within our gates. 
 
 All out-door work 
 Now stands ; the waggoner, with wisp-wound feet, 
 And wheelspokes almost filled, his destined stage 
 Scarcely can gain. O'er hill, and vale, and wood, 
 Sweeps the snow-pinioned blast, and all things veils 
 In white array, disguising to the view 
 Objects well known, now faintly recognized. 
 One colour clothes the mountain and the plain, 
 Save where the feathery flakes melt as they fall 
 Upon the deep blue stream, or scowling lake ; 
 Or where some beetling rock o'erjutting hangs 
 Above the vaulty precipices cove. 
 
12 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Formless, the pointed cairn now scarce o'ertops 
 The level dreary waste ; and coppice woods, 
 Diminished of their height, like bushes seem. 
 With stooping heads, turned from the storm, the 
 
 flocks, 
 Onward still urged by man and dog, escape 
 The smothering drift, while, skulking at a side, 
 Is seen the fox, with close down-folded tail, 
 Watching his time to seize a straggling prey ; 
 Or from some lofty crag he ominous howls, 
 And makes approaching night more dismal fall. 
 
 But not with night* s approach the shepherd's toils 
 Are ended ; through the deep and dreary glooms, 
 Without one guiding star, he struggling wades 
 The rising wreath ; till, quite o'erspent, compelled 
 To leave his flock to time and chance, he turns 
 Homeward his weary and uncertain steps, 
 
 
JANUARY. 13 
 
 Much doubting of his way, foreboding much. 
 In vain he tries to find his wonted marks, — 
 The hill-side fountain, with its little plat 
 Of verdant sward around ; the well-known cairn ; 
 The blasted branchless oak ; the ancient stone 
 Where murdered martyrs fell, and where they lie : 
 In vain he lists to hear the rushing stream, 
 Whose winding course would lead him to his home . 
 O'ercome at last, yielding to treacherous rest, 
 He sits him down, and folds within his plaid, 
 In fond embrace, the sharer of his toils, 
 The partner of his childrens' infant sports. 
 His children ! thought of them wakes new resolves 
 To make one last despairing effort more. 
 Meanwhile they, crouching round the blazing hearth, 
 Oft ask their mother when he will return. 
 She on her rocking infant looks the while, 
 Or, starting, thinks she hears the lifted latch ; 
 
14 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 And oft the drift comes sweeping o'er the floor, 
 
 While anxiously she looks into the storm, 
 
 Returning soon to stir the dying brands, 
 
 That with their blaze her sinking hopes revive : 
 
 Alas, her hopes are transient as that blaze, 
 
 And direful images her fancy crowd, — 
 
 The dog returning masterless ; the search 
 
 By friends and kinsmen wandering far o'er moss 
 
 And moor ; the sad success, — his body found 
 
 Half buried in a wreath ; the opening door 
 
 To let the bearers in ! . . .The door is opened : 
 
 Shook from poor Yarrow's fur, a sleety mist 
 
 Is scattered round, and in his master steps. 
 
 What joy ! what silent tearful joy pervades 
 
 The late despairing groupe ! Round him they cling ; 
 
 One doffs his stiffened plaid, and one his shoes ; 
 
 Kneeling, one chafes his hands and feet benumbed : 
 
 The sleeping babe is roused to kiss its sire, 
 
JANUARY. 15 
 
 Restored past hope ; and supper, long forgot, 
 Crowns the glad board : Nor is their evening prayer 
 This night omitted ; fervent, full of thanks, 
 From glowing hearts in artless phrase it flows ! 
 Then, simply chaunted by the parent pair, 
 And by the lisping choir, the song of praise, 
 Beneath the heath-roofed cottage in the wild, 
 Ascends more grateful to the heavenly throne, 
 Than pealing diapason, and the loud 
 Swelling acclaim of notes by art attuned. 
 
 But clearer skies succeed ; the downy fall 
 No longer dims the welkin, and, low poised, 
 The sun gleams slanting o'er the beauteous waste 
 Of snow, here smoothing o'er each bosky bourne, 
 Or heaved into a mimic moveless wave, 
 There drifted up against some cottage wall, 
 In easy slope uniting with the roof. 
 
16 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 How dazzling white the illimitable glare ! 
 With ruby-tinted beams twinkling, till aches 
 The wearied eye, that vainly seeks to find 
 A resting place, compelled at last to close. 
 
 Soon as, by frequent hoof and wheel, the roads 
 A beaten path afford, 'tis time to yoke 
 The rested team, and, from the neighbouring town, 
 To drive the well-heaped loads of rich manure ; 
 Or, from the smoke-enveloped kilns, bring home 
 The fertilizing stone. Now compost mounds 
 Ought from their snowy covering to be cleared, 
 To feel the powerful influence of the frost. 
 
 But chiefly, in this rigorous month, attend 
 To keep the team in order for the field : 
 Unyoke betimes, whatever be the task, 
 
JANUARY. 17 
 
 And house them ere the disappearing sun 
 Shoot, as he sinks, a feehle parting glimpse. 
 Then see their nightly lair l be warm and clean, 
 Of well-dried fern or straw ; this profits more 
 Than half their food ; nor is it wasteful care : 
 For thus, 'gainst spring's return, the strutting cock, 
 Proud of his height upon your reeking pile, 
 Tells, as he crows, of early thriving brairds. 2 
 
 How pleasant when the smoking cribs are filled, 
 Closing the door, to turn, with listening ear, 
 And hearken to the sound of busy mouths ; 
 Then, with an upward gaze, to wander o'er 
 The starry host, and think that He, who rolls 
 
 1 Repeatedly used by Dryden in this sense. 
 3 Grain-crop in its early stage. 
 
 C 
 
18 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Yon spheres innumerable, deigns to feed 
 
 Both man and beast, and all the fowls of heaven. 
 
 O nightly miracle ! to me still new, 
 Though long beheld : O soul-elating sight ! 
 Stupendous record, witnessing to man 
 A ruling power, almighty and benign. 
 
 Be not forgot, amid your evening cares, 
 To see that all be safe beneath the roof, 
 Where snugly, with his dames, sits chanticleer. 
 Each hole shut up, then every part explore, 
 Lest, ambushed in a corner, couches sly 
 The thirsty foumart, by his eyes betrayed, 
 That, glaring from some darksome nook, outshine 
 Your glimmering lamp : — with tiptoe step glide out \ 
 Up from the fireside rouse your sleeping cur ; 
 Haste then, not weaponless, and, followed close 
 
JANUARY. \9 
 
 By man and boy, all eager for the sport, 
 Rush in, and, if the fell destroyer 'scape 
 Your hurried ill-aimed strokes, Luath, more cool, 
 Will seize him fast, and lay him at your feet : 
 A deed remembered long on winter nights, 
 When scarce a fragment of the trophied scalp, 
 Grinning, remains to grace your stable-door. 
 
 Ruddy is now the dawning as in June, 
 And clear and blue the vault of noon-tide sky : 
 Nor is the slanting orb of day unfelt. 
 From sunward rocks, the icicle's faint drop, 
 By lonely river-side, is heard at times 
 To break the silence deep ; for now the stream 
 Is mute, or faintly gurgles far below 
 Its frozen ceiling : silent stands the mill, 
 The wheel immoveable, and shod with ice. 
 The babbling rivulet, at each little slope, 
 
20* BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Flows scantily beneath a lucid veil, 
 
 And seems a pearly current liquified ; 
 
 While, at the shelvy side, in thousand shapes 
 
 Fantastical, the frostwork domes uprear 
 
 Their tiny fabrics, gorgeously superb 
 
 With ornaments beyond the reach of art : 
 
 Here vestibules of state, and colonnades ; 
 
 There Gothic castles, grottos, heathen fanes, 
 
 Rise in review, and quickly disappear ; 
 
 Or through some fairy palace fancy roves, 
 
 And studs, with ruby lamps, the fretted roof; 
 
 Or paints with every colour of the bow 
 
 Spotless parterres, all freakt with snow-white flowers, 
 
 Flowers that no archetype in nature own ; 
 
 Or spreads the spiky crystals into fields 
 
 Of bearded grain, rustling in autumn breeze. 
 
 Upon the river's brink the schoolboy stands, 
 
JANUARY. 
 
 And, hesitating, eyes the clear expanse 
 
 Of solid water. First, a stone he throws, — 
 
 It o'er the elastic surface, ringing, bounds 
 
 With frequent leap, then smoothly glides along ; 
 
 Cautious he forward steps, starting dismayed, 
 
 To hear, as if a rent struck upward far, 
 
 And see beneath his foot the dialled ice. 
 
 Fear not, poor elf; but venturing enjov 
 
 Thy harmless pastime : yielding ice is strong, 
 
 And safer still as farther from the shore. 
 
 Or, heedful of the fond parental fears, 
 
 Wait patient till another starry night 
 
 Has, in that frozen mirror-plate, beheld 
 
 Another galaxy inverted shine. 
 
 'Tis then deep shoots the penetrating power, 
 
 Compacting hard, o'er brook and river wide, 
 
 A seamless pavement, luculent yet strong. 
 
2.2 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 But chiefly is the power of frost displayed 
 Upon the lake's crystalline broad expanse, 
 Wherein the whole reflected hemisphere 
 Majestically glows, and the full sweep, 
 From pole to pole, of shooting star is seen : 
 Or when the noon-day sun illumes the scene, 
 And mountain hoar, tree, bush, and margin reed, 
 Are imaged in the deep. At such a time, 
 How beautiful, O Duddingston 1 thy smooth 
 And dazzling gleam, o'er which the skaiter skims 
 From side to side, leaning with easy bend, 
 And motion fleet, yet graceful : wheeling now 
 In many a curve fantastic ; forward now, 
 Without apparent impulse, shooting swift, 
 And thridding, with unerring aim, the throng 
 That all around enjoy the mazy sport : 
 Dunedin's nymphs the while the season brave, 
 And, every charm enhanced, —the blooming cheek, 
 
JANUARY. 23 
 
 The eye beaming delight, the breathing lips 
 Like rosebuds wreathed in mist, — the nameless grace 
 Of beauty venturing on the slippery path, — 
 Heighten the joy, and make stern winter smile. 
 Scared from her reedy citadel, the swan, 
 Beneath whose breast, when summer gales blew soft, 
 The water lily dipped its lovely flower, 
 Spreads her broad pinions mounting to the sky, 
 Then stretches o'er Craigmillar's ruined towers, 
 And seeks some lonely lake remote from man. 
 
 Now rival parishes, and shrievedoms, keep, 
 On upland lochs, the long-expected tryst 1 
 To play their yearly bonspiel. 2 Aged men, 
 Smit with the eagerness of youth, are there, 
 While love of conquest lights their beamless eyes, 
 
 1 Appointment. 
 
 * A match at the game of curling on the ice. 
 
24 BRITISH CEORGICS. 
 
 New-nerves their arms, and makes them young 
 once more. 
 
 The sides when ranged, the distance meted out, 
 And duly traced the tees, ! some younger hand 
 Begins, with throbbing heart, and far o'ershoots, 
 Or sideward leaves, the mark : in vain he bends 
 His waist, and winds his hand, as if it still 
 Retained the power to guide the devious stone, 
 Which, onward hurling, makes the circling groupe 
 Quick start aside, to shun its reckless force. 
 But more and still more skilful arms succeed, 
 And near and nearer still around the tee, 
 This side, now that, approaches ; till at last, 
 Two seeming equidistant, straws or twigs 
 Decide as umpires 'tween contending coits. 3 
 
 1 The marks. 
 
 1 In some parts of Scotland, the stones with which curlers play- 
 are called cooting, or coiting stones. 
 
JANUARY. 
 
 25 
 
 Keen, keener still, as life itself were staked, 
 Kindles the friendly strife : one points the line 
 To him who, poising, aims and aims again ; 
 Another runs and sweeps where nothing lies. 
 Success alternately, from side to side, 
 Changes ; and quick the hours un-noted fly, 
 Till light begins to fail, and deep below, 
 The player, as he stoops to lift his coit, 
 Sees, half incredulous, the rising moon. 
 But now the final, the decisive spell, 
 Begins ; near and more near the sounding stones, 
 Some winding in, some bearing straight along, 
 Crowd justling all around the mark, while one, 
 Just slightly touching, victory depends 
 Upon the final aim : long swings the stone, 
 Then with full force, careering furious on, 
 Rattling it strikes aside both friend and foe, 
 Maintains its course, and takes the victor's place. 
 
 D 
 
2,6 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The social meal succeeds, and social glass ; 
 In words the fight renewed is fought again, 
 While festive mirth forgets the winged hours. — 
 Some quit betimes the scene, and find that home 
 Is still the place where genuine pleasure dwells. 
 
 Dear to the peasant's heart his fire-side blaze, 
 And floor new swept to greet his glad return ! 
 And dear the welcome of his child, and dog 
 Fawning to share his favour, still bestowed 
 Upon the climbing infant : sweet meanwhile, 
 His only guest, the redbreast, wakened, trills 
 A summer carol short, then 'neath his wing, 
 In trust implicit, veils his little head. 
 May be some ancient volume read aloud 
 Fixes the listening groupe ; perhaps the deeds 
 Of Wallace are the theme, — rude though the strain, 
 And mingling false with true, relished by all 
 
JANUARY. 27 
 
 Who Scotland love,— who liberty adore. 
 Hope, fear, and joy, alternate paint each face, 
 As fluctuates the fortune of the chief: 
 Or terror, all nnmingled, sways the breast, 
 And shakes the frame, when Fawdon's ghost ap- 
 pears. 
 Perhaps the godly lives, the fearless deaths 
 Triumphant, of the men who, on the field, 
 Or not less honourable scaffold, fell, 
 Asserting Freedom and Religion's cause, 
 Arouse each generous feeling of the soul ; 
 Or Ramsay's page pourtrays the rural life 
 In all the grace of truth ; or Burns calls forth 
 Each passion at his will ; then, with a smile, 
 A beauteous winning smile of Nature's face, 
 Soothes their full storm into a gentle calm. 
 
 This is no tale which fabling poet dreams, 
 No fancied picture of some former age 
 
28 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 When truth, and plain though useful knowledge 
 
 dwelt 
 With virtue, pure religion, simple joy, 
 And innocence, beneath the rustic roof : 
 No, 'tis a faithful portrait, unadorned, 
 Of manners lingering yet in Scotia's vales. 
 Still there, beside the church-yard path, is heard, 
 From lowly dwelling, rise the noise confused 
 Of many tongues, of some who con, or seem 
 TV con with look intent, their little task ; 
 There, still the village master and the priest 
 Unite to spread instruction o'er the land. 
 And let not him who ploughs a wide domain 
 Ask, with contemptuous sneer, what that avails 
 In making fruitful fields ? Are fields alone 
 Worthy the culture of a fostering state ! 
 What is a country rich in waving grain, 
 In sweeping herds and flocks, barren of men, 
 Or, fruitful of a race degenerate, sunk 
 
JANUARY. 29 
 
 In gloomy ignorance, without a ray 
 
 Of useful, or of pleasing lore, to cheer 
 
 The listless hours, when labour folds his arms ? 
 
 What heart so base, so sordid, as engross, 
 
 Not only all the luxuries and joys 
 
 Which affluence can minister to man, 
 
 But would, from common use, lock up the fount 
 
 Of knowledge pure, lest men should be too wise ! 
 
 What sacrilegious tongue dare to arraign 
 
 The glorious work, by which the sacred page 
 
 Was patent made to every eye that looks 
 
 Upon the light of heaven, and blesses God 
 
 That yet a brighter light illumes his soul ! 
 
 Who dares, with brow of adamant, maintain, 
 
 That Britain's sons, who sent him to defend 
 
 Their rights, — whose delegated voice derives 
 
 Its power from them, — dares, with a cynic jest, 
 
 Deny the right of Englishmen to read ! 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 jfebruar^. 
 
 -—Sudden from the hills, 
 
 O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, 
 A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Mountain snows dissolving— -River ice breaking—Signs of Spring's 
 
 approach Ploughing— Cultivation of waste land — Contrast 
 
 between waste land and the same land in an improved state 
 — Compost—Spreading manure in time of frost — Use of the 
 brake in stiff soils— Farther signs of Spring— Lark— Crocus — 
 ]$ ees — Feeding of bees— Cultivation of willows— Use of the wil- 
 low tribes in defending the banks of rivers — Various other uses 
 
 Description of the inmates of a Blind Asylum— Of a French 
 
 captive. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 JFebruar^ 
 
 1 he long-piled mountain-snows at last dissolve, 
 Bursting the roaring river's brittle bonds. 
 Ponderous the fragments down the cataract shoot. 
 And, buried in the boiling gulph below, 
 Emerging, re-appear, then roll along, 
 Tracing their height upon the half-sunk trees. 
 But slower, by degrees, the obstructed wave 
 Accumulated, crashing, scarcely seems 
 To move, pausing at times, until, upheaved 
 In masses huge, the lower sheet gives way. 
 
34 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Bleak still, and winterly, o'er hill and dale 
 Is nature's aspect : yet some pleasing signs, 
 Some heart-reviving preludes, faint and few, 
 Of Spring's sweet season, meet the eye or ear. 
 When calm the eve, I've heard the partridge call, 
 And seen the pairing couple as they tripped 
 Athwart the wreaths that in the furrows lurk : 
 And even the rere-mouse, when the twilight sleeps, 
 Unhreathing, spreads her torpid wings, and round 
 From stack to house or barn, and round again, 
 With many a sudden turn, flits and eludes 
 The eye. Than these no surer signs presage 
 An early seed-time, and an early braird. 
 
 And now, when sun and wind have dried the fields, 
 'Tis time to clear your ploughshare in the glebe. 
 If deep you wish to go, or if the soil 
 Be stiff and hard, or not yet cleared of stones, 
 
FEBRUARY. 35 
 
 The Scottish plough, drawn by a team four strong, 
 Your purpose best will suit ; quick it divides 
 The tumbling mould, while, whistling as he drives, 
 The merry plough-boy cheers the cold bleak day. 
 But if from nature, or from art, the soil 
 Be soft and friable, the smaller plough, 
 Drawn by one pair, obedient to the voice, 
 And double rein held by the ploughman's hand, 
 Moves right along, or winds as he directs. 
 
 But small degree of skill needs he, whose soil 
 Already by the plough has been subdued. 
 It is the old uncultivated waste, 
 Where yet the moor hen, 1 'mid the bushy heath, 
 Her nest conceals ; where hardy grass alone 
 Of coarsest kind, with ling or furze, afford 
 A scanty sustenance to flock or herd, — 
 
 1 Female of the Gorcock. 
 
36 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 'Tis chiefly there that judgment is required ; 
 For there experience is as yet confined* 
 While wide the range of objects that demand 
 Discernment, in the choice of various means, 
 To make the desart blossom as the rose. 
 
 Some fail to cultivate their upland wilds, 
 Fearing the cold and bleakness of the clime 
 May baffle all attempts the soil to mend. 
 Fear not or cold or wet, if, lurking low, 
 The daisy's leaf is seen; or if the briar 
 Erect its prickly stems ; or bramble stretch 
 Its shoots athwart your path, or clover blades* 
 Though small and close, around the sheep-fold spring. 
 
 Begin where fewest obstacles oppose : 
 Choose patches here and there, though small, nor 
 mind 
 
FEBRUARY. 37 
 
 The squaring of your fields. The sunny side 
 Of gentle slope is first to be preferred ; 
 For there, if wet the soil, (unless a spring 
 Oozing, deep-seated, rear a plashy sward,) 
 'Tis easily laid dry ; and there the Sun, 
 Great fertilizer ! on the fallow mould 
 Strikes powerfully, when at his summer height, 
 With perpendicular ray. On such a spot 
 First draw a single furrow up and down, 
 Then, turning to the right two furrow breadths, 
 Lay up the mould to meet the former cut. 
 Proceeding thus, though only half the space 
 Hath felt the share, the glebe lies all exposed ; 
 And thus on each side the inverted tilth, 
 A channel, smooth and firm at bottom, runs, 
 Bearing all surface water down the slope. 
 To dry and pulverize at once the soil, 
 No mode of tillage is more useful found, 
 
38 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Than this so simple. But the full effect 
 Is not obtained, unless the circling year 
 Upon your fallow ground its influence shed, — 
 The moody spring time's fitful heat and cold, 
 The summer s steady warmth, the autumn's winds 
 And drenching rains, with winters frost and thaw. 
 These changes break the most obdurate soil, 
 And make it crumble to receive the air, 
 Breathing the breath of vegetable life. 
 Then with the plough again, and yet again, 
 Subdue it well, nor doubt a green crop, strong 
 And plentiful, your labours will reward. 
 When so prepared, profusely spread it o'er 
 With limestone crumbling into snowy dust. 
 
 But if, as oft befalls, a tilly soil 
 Derive but slight improvement from the plough, 
 And lime, though dealt with an unsparing hand,— 
 
FEBRUARY. 39 
 
 The river bed, where join the stream and pool, 
 
 Presents a cheap manure : or, if at hand 
 
 No current bickers o'er its pebbly bar, 
 
 Explore where with a gentle slope declines 
 
 The hill into the plain ; there often lies 
 
 A gravelly layer, precious though little prized. 
 
 Sometimes a spring will point the place where lurks 
 
 A magazine immense : if sand appear 
 
 Around the source, be sure that underneath 
 
 A stratum more or less is to be found. 
 
 Or, if your soil be light, still to the brook 
 
 Or oozing springs resort. 'Tis there are found 
 
 Variety of earths ; for every stream, 
 
 Whether it flow, broad gleaming in the sun, 
 
 A river fair ; or, hidden from the view, 
 
 Mine its meandering course beneath the ground, 
 
 A little fount ; each visits various soils, 
 
 Which to the bottom fall, or side are thrown. 
 
40 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Where haunts the woodcock, now about to wing 
 
 His way to colder climes, I've seen a spot 
 
 Of vivid green, beneath whose spongy sward 
 
 A store of richest mud lay broad and deep. 
 
 Bear then this truth in mind, — Where'er a spring 
 
 Or water runnel flows, there lies a mine, 
 
 If right applied, of meliorating earth, 
 
 Though cheap, not to be scorned ; if pebbly sand, 
 
 To clay applied, it opens and resolves ; 
 
 If clay or mud, compacts the gravelly soil. 
 
 But trust not wholly to manures bestowed 
 By nature's boon ; for, though you thus may throw 
 A vivid verdure o'er the sterile waste, 
 The meliorated field, without manure 
 Supplied by herd or flock, relapses soon, 
 And heathy sprigs, with herbage coarse, and shoots 
 Of broom, or gorse, its former state betray. 
 
FEBRUARY. 41 
 
 Attempt not, then, on recent land to boast 
 Wide fields of waving grain ; by slow degrees 
 Proceed ; the broad-leaved plants at once reward 
 Your husbandry, and more improve the soil. 
 Nor long the time till, thoroughly reclaimed^ 
 The new-gained crofts uninjured will sustain 
 Whate'er the oldest cultured lands produce. 
 
 By such resources so applied, I've seen, 
 As if it were, a new creation smile ; 
 Have seen the clover, red and white, supplant 
 The purple heath-bell ; rustling ears succeed 
 The dreary stillness of the lurid moor ; 
 The glutted heifer lowing for the pail, 
 Where starving sheep picked up their scanty fare; 
 The sheltering hawthorn blossom, where the furze 
 Its rugged aspect reared ; and I have heard, 
 Where melancholy plovers hovering screamed, 
 
 F 
 
±2 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The partridge-call, at gloamin's lovely hour, 
 Far o'er the ridges break the tranquil hush ; 
 And morning larks ascend with songs of joy, 
 Where erst the whinchat chirped from stone to stone. 
 
 What unalloyed delight to him whose hands 
 Performed the change, to wander o'er his mead 
 At setting sun, and think, This work is mine ! 
 Or, looking down upon his hedge-row trees, 
 Anticipate the pleasure of their shade ! 
 Not to himself, or scarcely to himself, 
 But to the sweet interrogating wight 
 Whom by the hand he leads ! O happy lot ! 
 Compared to his, who, pent in city tane, 
 Broods o'er his cyphered columns, casting up^ 
 From time to time, the total of his pelf, 
 And grudging sore, that, in a few short years, 
 He and his treasure must for ever part. 
 
FEBRUARY. 43 
 
 The compost pile examine now and turn, 
 And, if tis not completely decomposed 
 Into one mass of vegetable mould, 
 With an unsparing hand throw in more lime. 
 When unremitting cold retards the stage 
 Of fermentation, heat, then, genial heat 
 Must be applied ; nor hesitate to use 
 A little casement sloping to the sun 
 Like garden hot-bed : covering but a part, 
 The process, once begun, pervades the whole. 
 
 If frost returning interrupt the plough, 
 Then is the time, along the hardened ridge, 
 To drive manure, and toss around the heaps, 
 O'er all the surface equally dispread, 
 Not scattered carelessly. 
 
U< BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 If stiff the soil* 
 The larger harrow, called by some the brake, 
 Will much avail : -across, and yet across, 
 Drag it with team four strong, and raise a cloud 
 Of dust ; then with the lesser harrow close, 
 Braying your soil till scarce a clod remain, 
 On which preluding lark may sit and sing. 
 
 How sweet, when winter's roughest mood is o'er, 
 The first note of the lark ! How beautiful 
 The crocus shooting leafless through the ground 
 Its simple floweret, prized because it blows 
 The harbinger of Spring ! To me more sweet 
 The first song of the lark, though briefly trilled, 
 Than all the summer music of the groves ; 
 More beautiful to me the vernal bud, 
 Than all the odour-breathing flowers of May. 
 
 
FEBRUARY. 43 
 
 Sometimes, deceived by promise premature 
 Of Spring's approach, or pinched by empty combs, 
 Forth from the hive some straggling bees will peep, 
 And, buzzing on the outside of their porch, 
 Will try their wings, but not attempt to fly : 
 Here profit prompts, if pity ask in vain, 
 To save the falling state : Nor large the boon 
 They crave ; — the refuse of the summer spoil, 
 Or syrup of the cane in bourtree 1 trough, 
 Pushed softly in, will help them till the down 
 Hang on the willow tree, than which no flower 
 Yields fruit more grateful to the frugal tribes. 
 Nor is there found a crop that yields increase 
 More sure, abundant, and at smaller charge, 
 Than does the willow grove ; and now is come 
 The fittest time the limber slips to plant. 
 Choose well the spot : it is not every marsh, 
 
 ? Elder. 
 
46 BRITISH GEORjGICS. 
 
 Or boggy nook, will suit. . Wherever springs, 
 Not deep, nor difficult to trace, ooze out, 
 Drenching the ground 3 and where, at little cost, 
 A large extent of field may be laid dry, 
 'Tis fitting there to draw the slanting drain, 
 And change the swamp into a grassy mead : 
 But where a head-spring long eludes the search, 
 And, though detected, as you ween, and led 
 In stony fetters, still breaks out, and spreads 
 A deep green patch amid your waving corn, 
 There yield to nature ; there the willow plant. 
 It will not draw the water off, but change 
 The water into gold : it needs nor plough, manure, 
 Nor weeding hand : fair seasons, drowth, or rain, 
 Or cold, — to it all weather is alike. 
 A broad and open ditch drawn round the whole, 
 With here and there a trench transverse, will serve 
 
FEBRUARY. 47 
 
 At once for fence, and give a surface crust : 
 This all the culture that the willow seeks. 
 
 The bending willow loves itself to see 
 Reflected in the stream ; there osier slips 
 Will thrive, and with reticulated roots 
 Will fortify your bank ; let them not grow 
 To trees, but close and thick, that in the tangled 
 
 wreck 
 Of winter-floods, the water-ouzel's nest 
 May find concealment from the schoolboy's eye. 
 A bank so shielded needs no other fence r 
 No stony bulwark^ nor the wattled sod. 
 Compared to this, the alder's warping roots 
 Afford ambiguous aid ; for on the stem, 
 Unyielding to the current, wintry floods 
 Impetuous bear, till, loosened by degrees,. 
 
48 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The tree falls prone, and tears an open breach, 
 
 While harmlessly along the osiered bank 
 
 The swollen stream glides through the bending 
 
 twigs, 
 Which feebly foil, and pliantly resist. 
 
 To name the uses of the willow tribes 
 Were endless task. The basket's various forms 
 For various purposes of household thrift ; 
 The wicker chair of size and shape antique ; 
 The rocking couch of sleeping infancy ; 
 These, with unnumbered other forms and kinds, 
 Give bread to hands unfit for other work. 
 The man bowed down with age, the sickly youth, 
 The widowed mother with her little child, 
 That lends its aid and loves to be employed, 
 Find, from this easy toil, a help in need. 
 
FEBRUARY. 49 
 
 The blind man's blessing lights on him who plants 
 An osier bed : O I have seen a smile 
 Of mild content upon the assembled groupe 
 Of piteous visages, whose dexterous hands, 
 Taught by the public care, plied the light task ; 
 And I have heard, their hour of labour done, 
 That simple, sacred strain, By Babels streams, 
 Rise from the sightless band, with such a power 
 Of heart-dissolving melody, — move such a host 
 Of strong o'erwhelming feelings in the breast, 
 As wrung a tear from most obdurate eyes. 
 
 Once I beheld a captive, whom these wars 
 Had made an inmate of the prison-house, 
 Cheering with wicker-work, (that almost seemed 
 To him a sort of play,) his dreary hours. 
 I asked his story : in my native tongue, 
 
 G 
 
3 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 (Long use had made it easy as his own,) 
 He answered thus : — Before these wars began, 
 I dwelt upon the willowy banks of Loire : 
 I married one who, from my boyish days, 
 Had been my playmate. One morn, — I'll ne'er for- 
 get !— 
 While busy chusing out the prettiest twigs, 
 To warp a cradle for our child unborn, 
 We heard the tidings, that the conscript-lot 
 Had fallen on me ; it came like a death-knell. 
 The mother perished, but the babe survived ; 
 And ere my parting day, his rocking couch 
 I made complete, and saw him sleeping smile,— 
 The smile that played upon the cheek of her 
 Who lay clay-cold. Alas ! the hour soon came 
 That forced my fettered arms to quit my child ; 
 And whether now he lives to deck with flowers 
 
FEBRUARY. 51 
 
 The sod upon his mother's grave, or lies 
 Beneath it by her side, I ne'er could learn : 
 I think he's gone, and now I only wish 
 For liberty and home, that I may see, 
 And stretch myself and die upon that grave. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS 
 
 iflJUttt). 
 
 Now laverocks wake the merry morn 
 
 Aloft on dewy wing ; 
 The merle, in his noon-tide bower, 
 Makes woodland echoes ring. 
 
 Burns. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Ploughing— Larks— Rooks— Sea-fowl— Description of an old hus- 
 bandman— Directions in agriculture by him, as to ploughing, 
 rotation of crops, $c— Sowing— Harrowing— Paring and burn- 
 ing— Apostrophe to Fire— Proposal for applying fire by means 
 of a roller— Culture of cottar s garden and potatoe-plat—Hen 
 and chickens— Bees-Spring flowers— Signs of good climate 
 and soil. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 iftlarcji. 
 
 -Raised by the coming plough, the merry lark 
 
 Upsprings, and, soaring, joins the high-poised choirs 
 
 That carol far and near, in spiral flight 
 
 Some rising, some descending, some beyond 
 
 The visual ken, making the vaulted sky 
 
 One vast orchestra, full of joyful songs, 
 
 Of melodies, to which the heart of man, 
 
 Buoyant with praise, in unison responds. 
 
 If with the rooks, that on the ploughman's steps 
 
 Frequent alight, a flock of sea-fowl join, 
 
56 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Trust not the sky serene, but look for change ; 
 Urge then your task, and let the sun go down 
 Upon your toil, nor loose the reeking yoke 
 Till in the east the rising stars appear. 
 
 A man I knew, bowed down with age and toil, 
 Who dwelt upon the pleasant banks of Clyde : 
 Deep-read he was in books, and was by some 
 A wizard deemed, because he would maintain, 
 That in the heavens the sun stood motionless, 
 And that the earth moved circling. He at eve, 
 When summer eves were long, would sit and mend 
 His horses gear, and teach me, glad to J earn, 
 His rustic lore. "One ploughing (oft he'd say) 
 s< Ere hoof-prints frozen white indent the ground, 
 " Is worth a score when winter frosts have ceased 
 " To penetrate the mould. Let then the plough 
 Ci The sickle follow soon; and when the fields 
 
MARCH. 57 
 
 " Are bare, and mornings clear and calm 
 
 " Begin with hoar frost to encrust the sward, 
 
 " Plough down the whitened stubble, turning up 
 
 " The reeking tilth to feel the genial beam. 
 
 " 'Tis change from heat to cold, from cold to heat 
 
 C( Alternating, that, more than tillage, breaks 
 
 tC The obdurate soil : change is the very life 
 
 " And soul of husbandry ; 'tis change of crops, 
 
 " By some rotation termed, that makes the ground 
 
 " Perform its task with unexhausted power. 
 
 " The broad-leaved plants, whose product is their 
 
 " root, 
 '■' They least exhaust ; and next the legume tribes 
 " With leaves less broad, and odoriferous flowers 
 " That in the month of June make travellers pause; 
 " These, through their porous and extended blades, 
 " Draw from the air a portion of their food. 
 " The plants with narrow and spear-pointed blades, 
 
 H 
 
58 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 " Of seed prolific, they exhaust the most ; 
 
 " For from the suffering soil is chiefly drawn 
 
 " Their sustenance. Two scourging crops of these 
 
 " Who sows successively, defrauds the soil. 
 
 " But 'tis not only that the broad-leaved kinds 
 
 " Draw from the fostering earth a smaller share 
 
 "Of vegetable food ; no, of itself 
 
 " The different mode of action saves the power 
 
 " Exerted : things inanimate acquire 
 
 " New power by change, like those endued with life. 
 
 " How light the flail swings in my weary hands, 
 
 ci When sudden frost has midway down the ridge 
 
 " The plough arrested ! so when from the barn 
 
 " I seek the field again, each labour there 
 
 " Seems for a time like rest." — 
 
 Vicissitude, 
 In all its forms, how grateful ! — night and morn ; 
 
MARCH. 5y 
 
 The lengthening day foretelling summer flowers, 
 While close they lurk enfolded in their buds, 
 As yet invisible ; the twilight long 
 Of Summer's eve, that almost joins the dawn ; 
 The ruddy dawn, all hush, till blythesome springs 
 The earliest lark, and carols in the beam 
 That, upward slanting, gilds his quivering throat ; 
 The noontide's fervid glare, when panting herds 
 Betake them to the stream, lashing their sides ; 
 The harvest's rustle, and the lengthened nights 
 Of moonshine sweet ; the redbreast's song 
 Announcing Winter near ; and Winter's self 
 With nights of fireside joys, homebred delights, 
 And days though short, yet not without their charm. 
 
 Now, at the ridge end stands the well-filled sack, 
 And hive inverted, while the sower steps, 
 With loaded sheet, along the furrowed ridge. 
 
60 BRITISH GEORGICS, 
 
 And flings the seed with equal crescent sweep, 
 Rejoicing in the tide, and pleased to close 
 His blinded eyes, as on the adjoining ridge 
 The passing harrows raise the golden 1 dust. 
 
 While dry and keen the east wind down the vale 
 Sweeps piercingly, and makes the violet-bud, 
 Shrinking, delay to spread its purple flower ; 
 While youngling rooks, rocked in their airy nests, 
 Importunate, with ceaseless cawing, tire 
 The ear, as on the swinging bough the dam 
 Scarce keeps her perch, and deals the new-gleaned 
 
 seed, 
 Then is the time, upon the barren moor, 
 To prove your skill. Where'er, by nature dry, 
 It stretches far with coarsest grasses spread, 
 
 ■ According to an old proverb, " an ounce of March dust is worth 
 a pound of gold." 
 
MARCH. 61 
 
 Upon a soil of shallow half- formed moss, 
 
 With gritty mould beneath, there pare the turf 
 
 And lay it loosely up, in hollow heaps, 
 
 Triangular* next kindle each, till far 
 
 The smoky clouds float rolling o'er the waste, 
 
 While plovers, screaming, sport amid the wreaths : 
 
 The ashes duly spread, no need you have 
 
 For more manure, but instant urge the plough, 
 
 That when sweet May puts on her hawthorn crown, 
 
 The new-gained field, laid down in seemly drills, 
 
 May ready for the turnip seed-time lie. 
 
 Nor is it solely on the barren moor 
 This mode is used ; the lea that oft before 
 Hath felt the opening share, much gain derives 
 From fire ; fields so prepared, whate'er the crop, 
 Are free from grub and insect, and each pest 
 That blights the farmer's hope. 
 
63 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 All powerful Fire ! 
 The time is not remote, when, in the field 
 Of peaceful toil, (as now on bloody plains 
 The warrior's direst instrument thou art,) 
 By all, thou shalt be hailed the engine prime 
 Of husbandry ! Nor only in degrees, 
 So high as to calcine, thy power is proved ; 
 Upon the new-ploughed tilth, where seeds and 
 
 germs 
 Of noxious herbs and embrio vermin lurk, 
 Thy subtle element will parch the springs 
 Of insect and of vegetable life. 
 
 But how to bend the still ascending power 
 And make it downward act, requires much thought, 
 More knowledge in the chemic art abstruse, 
 Than falls to bard. Yet will I venturous dare, 
 And should I fail, perchance some better skilled 
 
MARCH. 63 
 
 May light the flame, where I but strike a spark. — 
 
 Use not direct combustion to the tilth ; 
 
 Vain were your cost and pains in such attempt ; 
 
 Accumulate the power ; and what so fit 
 
 As iron to retain or to convey, 
 
 With equal energy, or down or up 
 
 The wondrous element, which, save when bound 
 
 In chains metallic, still to heaven aspires ? 
 
 And what more fitting form at once to hold 
 
 The kindled fuel, and apply the heat, 
 
 Than one well known, — the rolling cylinder, 
 
 Of bulk capacious ? Glowing o'er the field 
 
 Behold it slowly drawn, and see the ridge 
 
 Send, from the hissing track, a steaming cloud. 
 
 But these are schemes for men of wide domains. 
 Which glad I leave to greet the lowly cot. 
 No month demands more of the cottar's care 
 
6<k BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Than this ; — the garden and potatoe plat 
 Should now be delved, and, with no sparing hand y 
 Manured ; a task performed at twilight hours 
 When stated labour ends ; for now the day 
 Is equal with the night, and in the west 
 Faint lingers, with a pleasant parting smile. 
 The dibbling done, the dropping of the chips 
 Is left to little hands, well pleased to lend 
 Their feeble help : meanwhile the parents view 
 The finished work, anticipating years 
 When these weak hands will cherish their old age y 
 And lay their heads in peace below the turf. 
 
 Oft in this month the cottage hen comes forth 
 Attended by her brood, down-clad, yet poorly fenced 
 Against the eastern blast, that frequent brings 
 A shower of biting hail, which, as it falls, 
 The inexperienced younglings eager chace, 
 
MARCH. 65 
 
 And peck the pattering drops : forbid not then 
 The clamorous flock, in quest of crumbs, to haunt 
 The fireside nook : how pleasant 'tis to hear 
 The summoning call whene'er the prize is found ! 
 Or see the eager mother gather in 
 Her tiny justling brood, beneath the chair 
 On which the thrifty housewife sits and spins ; 
 Or if, to approach this citadel, intruding cur 
 Presume, then see her issue forth, with plumes 
 All ruffled, and attack the foe, and drive 
 Him, howling, out of doors, drooping his tail, 
 And shaking, as he runs, his well-pounced ears. 
 
 This renovating season, too, calls forth 
 The humming tribes ; for now the willow leaves, 
 And downy flowers on river-loving palms, 
 Afford materials for the curious cell ; 
 And oft, even in this chill ambiguous month, 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The labourers return with loaded thighs. 
 Therefore by day their gateway-porch enlarge, 
 But still at eve let it be closed secure, 
 Lest nightly winds, now in the brooding time, 
 Should, sifting in, the genial process mar. 
 Nor now withhold, if much reduced their store, 
 The needful loan ; for yet few flowers are found, 
 And these quite honeyless, — the daisy fair, 
 Basking upon some sunny-sheltered slope, 
 The snow-drops, and the violets that couch 
 On woody but still shadeless banks, and lead, 
 With fragrance wafted from their purpled bed, 
 The wandering step to hail the vernal joy, 
 The virgin breath of Spring, her fairest bloom. 
 
 No surer sign is known of climate mild, 
 And kindly soil, than early woodland flowers, 
 And chief the violet : it marks a dry 
 
MARCH. 67 
 
 A crumbling, active mould ; nor less the thorn, 
 'Neath which it blows, if early clothed with leaves, 
 Screening from prying eyes the thrush's nest, 
 Bespeaks a genial soil, and clime benign. 
 
 The early songs of birds, if clear and full, 
 Ere yet the primrose blow, they too bespeak 
 A smiling sky ; but of them all, the lark 
 Affords the surest signs : — if high he soar, 
 And higher still, as if he circling scaled 
 Some airy pyramid, until his lessening bulk 
 At last eludes the weary sight, while faint 
 His song at times still meets the doubting sense, 
 Be sure, the higher regions of the air, 
 Around the buoyant chorister, breathe soft, 
 Breathe placidly ; — and when the welkin's warm, 
 Nor sudden frost, nor rain will harm your fields. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS 
 
 &pril. 
 
 Now blooms the lily by the bank, 
 
 The primrose down the brae, 
 The hawthorn's budding in the glen, 
 
 And milk-white is the slae. 
 
 Burns. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Address to April— Characteristics of the month— Time for barley 
 sowing— Steeping of seed— Fences— Condemnation of the prac- 
 tice of smashing hedges— Faults in the mode of hedge-planting 
 pointed out— A better mode recommended— Rustic courtship— 
 A wedding. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Through boughs still leafless, or through foliage 
 
 thin, 
 The sloping primrose-bed lies fair exposed, 
 Begemmed with simple flowers, gladdening the 
 
 sight. 
 Hail ! month of buds and blooms, of shooting blades 
 That spread the fallow fields with vivid green ! 
 Hail, Nature's birth-time ! hail, ye gentle showers 
 That, in the opening blossoms, lie like tears 
 In infant eyes, soon giving place to smiles, 
 
72 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 To sunny smiles of peace, of joy serene. 
 How calm the woods ! as if they all had stilled 
 Their waving branches, listening to the songs 
 Of love-tuned ditties, warbled sweet from thorns 
 Enwreathed with forming flowers : all other sounds 
 Are hushed, — unless, scared from the brooding task 
 By man's approach, the sudden whirring wing 
 Betray the bush where hangs half hid the nest : 
 Return, poor bird ! I'll find another path, 
 Until thy pleasing task be done ; return, 
 ('Tis not the spoiler's step,) complete thy work, 
 Cheered by thy twig-perched mate : enough for me 
 To hear his song, far sweeter there, I ween, 
 Than, through the wirey grate, a captive's lay. 
 
 Now clover fields expand the luscious blade, 
 But tender still, while, on the upland leas, 
 The yeanlings stagger round their bleating dams : 
 
APRIL. 73 
 
 The orchard's drooping boughs put forth their blooms, 
 Purple of loveliest hue yblent with white : 
 The sweetbrier's buds unfold ; and perfumed gales 
 A lullaby o'er Nature's cradle sigh. 
 
 Soon as the earliest swallow skims the mead, 
 The barley sowing is by some begun • 
 While others wait until her clay-built nest, 
 Completed, in the window-corner hang ; 
 Or till the schoolboy mock the cuckoo's note. 
 He that would reap a plenteous barley crop, 
 Should in saline infusion drench the seed ; 
 For thus the nascent embryo, ere it shoots, 
 Is fortified against the ravenous grub. 
 When so prepared, no dwarfish patch deforms 
 The field irregular, but every ridge 
 Erects its bristling awns, equal in height, 
 Like steely points by marshalled phalanx reared. 
 
 K 
 
74 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The seed-time closed, the fences, hedge and ditch., 
 Demand your tendance ; first the ditches clear, 
 And then, with cautious hand, the hedges lop, 
 Broad at the bottom, tapering by degrees, 
 As to the top the shears or bill ascend. 
 
 Some husbandmen, as if by rage impelled, 
 With unrelenting hatchets, level low 
 Each full-grown hedge, just as it gains its prime, — 
 Now in its full blown beauty : withering, soiled, 
 The flowery branches lie, with here and there 
 A ruined nest inverted, while behold ! — 
 'Stead of the sheltering thicket stretching fair,— - 
 A row of stumps, from which, in future years, 
 Another hedge, of weaker stem and twig, 
 May spring again to shield the fenceless croft, 
 And whence this love of massacre ! this rage 
 Perverse, unnatural, so near a-kin 
 
APRIL. 75 
 
 To that propensity, infecting some 
 Who think, — that Nature gave the noble steed 
 A spine six joints too long ; that ears acute 
 Deform the head, and should be roundly pared ; 
 And that the neck surmounted by the mane, 
 The cloud where dwells the thunder, is improved 
 When modelled by the bristling back of hog ! 
 
 Oft times, 'tis true, a single row of thorns 
 Is found a feeble fence ; but to destroy 
 That row, is not the mode to give it strength. 
 The error lies in planting single rows ; — 
 And, heedless of variety of soil, 
 Clay, sand, or gravel, — dry, or wet, or cold, — 
 Planting the hawthorn shrub as fit for all. 
 In marshy soils, the hawthorn, covered o'er 
 With lichen gray, appears an aged bush 
 While only young, and in this bloomy month 
 
76 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Puts forth no blossom : stuntedfy it grows, 
 With sickly sprays in dusky foliage robed. 
 
 Nor is the single stripe preferred for thrift 
 Of ground : observe the space it occupies ; — 
 The bank, which common custom thus allots, 
 Contains full oft a space from side to side 
 Superfluous, which, if used aright, would give 
 A fence impregnable to herd or flock. 
 The genius of the thorn is misconceived ; 
 It loves not solitude ; like all the tribes 
 With prickles armed, the under-growth of woods, 
 It thrives most vigorously when interwarped 
 With kindred, not with sister shrubs : Observe, 
 In woodland glades, the thickets that present 
 The closest barrier to the rambling step, 
 Are those where shrubs of various kinds combine. 
 A hedge should be a thicket lengthened out, 
 
APRIL. 77 
 
 Where, though one plant may fail (and if one plant 
 In hedges of a single file decay, 
 The flaw is rarely cured,) 'tis scarcely missed. 
 Let then your bulging quickset-bank be clothed, 
 From side to side, with shrubs of various kinds. 
 Let hawthorn chief prevail, but with it mix 
 The bramble with its stretching limbs ; the brier, 
 Whose prickly leaves and twigs resent the touch 
 
 Of hostile mouth ; the sloethorn's hardy spray, 
 Unbending, armed with formidable prongs ; 
 The plumtree wild, the willow, and the whin, 
 
 Of brilliant golden hue, where, blossom-perched, 
 
 Carols the linnet 1 of the roseat plumes. 
 
 Let these, united in confusion strong, 
 
 Grow up unchecked, save at the bounding line ; 
 
 There place your foot, let not a twig encroach. 
 
 Thus on a space, not more than what you waste 
 
 The rose-linnet. 
 
78 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 In fostering, with thriftless care and cost, 
 A single row of plants, (which, like a chain, 
 Is useless if a single link give way,) 
 You rear a verdant mound, combining strength 
 And durability with beauty's charm, — 
 Displaying, from the time of opening buds 
 Till ripening grain wave girt in its embrace, 
 An ever-varying wreath of flowers and fruits, 
 Which, to an eye that's fanciful, might seem 
 A crown encircling Ceres' rustling head. 
 
 Now, 'mid the general glow of opening blooms, 
 Coy maidens blush consent, nor slight the gift, 
 From neighbouring fair brought home, till now re- 
 fused. 
 Swains, seize the sunny hours to make your hay, 
 For woman's smiles are fickle as the sky : 
 
APRIL. 79 
 
 Bespeak the priest, bespeak the minstrel too, 
 Ere May, to wedlock hostile, stop the banns. 
 
 The appointed day arrives, a blythesome day 
 Of festive jollity ; yet not devoid 
 Of soft regret to her about to leave 
 A parent's roof ; yes, at the word join hands, 
 A tear reluctant starts, as she beholds 
 Her mother's look, her father's silvery hairs. 
 But serious thoughts take flight, when from the 
 
 barn, 
 Soon as the bands are knit, a jocund sound 
 Strikes briskly up, and nimble feet beat fast 
 Upon the earthen floor. Through many a reel, 
 With various steps uncouth, some new, some old, 
 Some all the dancer's own, with Highland flings 
 Not void of grace, the lads and lasses strive 
 To dance each other down ; and oft, when quite 
 
80 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Forespent, the fingers merrily cracked, the bound. 
 The rallying shout well-timed, and sudden change 
 To sprightlier tune, revive the flagging foot, 
 And make it feel as if it tripped in air. 
 
 When all are tired, and all his stock of reels 
 The minstrel, o'er and o'er again, has run, 
 The cheering flaggon circles round ; meanwhile 
 A softened tune, and slower measure, flows 
 Sweet from the strings, and stills the boisterous joy. 
 May be, The Bonny Broom of Cowdenknows, 
 (If simply played, though not with master hand,) 
 Or Paties Mill, or Bush aboon Traquair, 
 Inspire a tranquil gladness through the breast * 
 Or that most mournful strain, the sad Lament 
 For Floddenfield, drives mirth from every face, 
 And makes the firmest heart strive hard to curb 
 The rising tear, — till, with unpausing bow, 
 
APRIL. 81 
 
 The blythe strathspey springs up, reminding some 
 Of nights when Gow's old arm, (nor old the wile,) 
 Unceasing, save when reeking cans went round, 
 Made heart and heel leap light as bounding roe. 
 Alas ! no more shall we behold that look 
 So venerable, yet so blent with mirth, 
 And festive joy sedate ; that ancient garb 
 Unvaried, — tartan hose, and bonnet blue ! 
 No more shall Beauty's partial eye draw forth 
 The full intoxication of his strain, 
 Mellifluous, strong, exuberantly rich ! 
 No more, amid the pauses of the dance, 
 Shall he repeat those measures, that in days 
 Of other years, could soothe a falling prince, 
 And light his visage with a transient smile 
 Of melancholy joy, — like autumn sun 
 Gilding a sere tree with a passing beam ! 
 
 L 
 
82 BRITISH GEOHGICS. 
 
 Or play to sportive children on the green 
 Dancing at gloamin hour ; or willing cheer, 
 With strains unbought, the shepherd's bridal-day ! 
 
 But light now failing, glimmering candles shine 
 In ready chandeliers of moulded clay 
 Stuck round the walls, displaying to the view 
 The ceiling, rich with cobweb-drapery hung. 
 Meanwhile, from mill and smiddy, field and barn, 
 Fresh groupes come hastening in : but of them all 
 The miller bears the gree, as rafter high 
 He leaps, and, lighting, shakes a dusty cloud all 
 round. 
 
 In harmless merriment protracted long, 
 The hours glicfe by. At last, the stocking thrown, 
 And duly every gossip rite performed, 
 
APRIL. 83 
 
 Youths, maids, and matrons, take their several 
 
 ways ; 
 While drouthy carles, waiting for the moon, 
 
 Sit down again, and quaff till day-light dawn. 
 
 1 
 
• 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 ffity. 
 
 Herba comis, tellus nitat herbis,frondibus arbor, 
 Luxitriat latum lata per area pecus. 
 
 Buchanan* 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Address to May — Some characteristics of the month — Clover ridge 
 — Corncraik — Mowing for the stall recommended — Stall feed- 
 ing, unless in winter, unknown informer times — Herd-boy — his 
 hut and occupations — Old manners giving way to the encroach- 
 ments of trade — Some remnants still to be found — Improvement 
 of mosses — Effects of this improvement in respect to certain birds 
 Description of a family removing to a city — Miserable effects 
 of the change— Appeal to landed proprietors on this subject — 
 Hints for chusing a farm. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 ifftap. 
 
 Sweet month! thy locks with bursting buds be- 
 gemmed, 
 With opening hyacinths and hawthorn flowers, 
 Fair still thou art, though showers bedim thine eye. 
 The cloud soon leaves thy brow, and mild the sun 
 Looks out with watery beam, looks out and smiles. 
 
 Light now the breezes sigh along the vale, 
 Gently they wave the rivulet's cascade, 
 And bend the flowers, making the lily stoop 
 
88 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 As if to kiss its image in the stream, 
 Or curl, with gentlest breath, the glassy pooL 
 Aiding the treachery of the mimic fly, 
 While, crouching warily behind a bush, 
 The angler screened, with keenest eye intent, 
 Awaits the sudden rising of the trout : — 
 Down dips the feathery lure ; the quivering rod 
 Bends low : in vain the well-hooked captive strives 
 To break the yielding line : his side upturned, 
 Ashore he's drawn, and, on the mossy bank 
 Weltering, he dyes the primrose with his blood. 
 
 How gay the fields ! arrayed in lovely green 
 Of various tint : but deepest of them all 
 The clover ridge, where now at eve is heard 
 The corncraik's harsh, yet not unpleasing call, 
 Oft pausing, still renewed from place to place. 
 Vain all attempts to trace her by her note ; 
 
MAY. $9 
 
 For, when the spot whence last it came is reached, 
 Again 'tis heard hoarse harping far behind, — 
 Till silenced by the mower's rasping stone. 
 
 No use to which the clover field is put 
 Repays so well as mowing for the stall, 
 For not a blade is wasted ; while your herds, 
 Screened from the sun, and from molesting bite 
 Of vexing flies, peaceful enjoy the cool 
 And fragrant meal, or drowsy chew the cud. 
 
 In times of old, stall-feeding was unknown, 
 Save during winter months : inclosures then 
 Were rare, and every hill-side, every lea 
 And broomy bank, was vocal with the notes 
 Of rustic pipe, or rudely chaunted rhymes, 
 Responsive echoed wild from herd to herd, 1 
 
 Used here in the Scotch sense, as signifying the keeper of the 
 herd. 
 
 M 
 
90 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Tending their charge of mingled sheep and kine. 
 And still there may be seen, on Scotia's braes, 
 The shepherd boy, with horn and club, and dog, 
 Couched on the chequered plaid, and, at a side, 
 His little turf-built hut, with boughs overlaid, 
 Wherein are placed, from sudden shower secure, 
 The Life of Wallace wight, with goodly store 
 Of ballads old and new, which oft he cons. 
 And thus, in pleasing solitude, he spends 
 His harmless, not unprofitable hours, 
 Till, by his brazen dial warned, he drives 
 Homeward, at noon, his flock. 
 
 O simple times 
 Of peaceful innocence, fast giving way 
 To Trade's encroaching power ! Yes, Trade ere 
 
 long 
 Will drive each older custom from the land, 
 
MAY. 91 
 
 Will drive each generous passion from the breast. 
 
 Even love itself, that in the peasant's heart 
 
 Was wont to glow with pure and constant flame, 
 
 Now burns less purely than in times of old ; 
 
 A fatal sign. Yet still the " trysting thorn" 
 
 Is seen to bloom elsewhere than in the song 
 
 Of youthful bard : Beneath the greenwood tree, 
 
 When on May morning, maids, to gather dew, 
 
 Hie to the primrose bank, the mutual vow 
 
 Is pledged, and hallowed kept, though absence, war, 
 
 And, keenest pang ! supposed forge tfulness, 
 
 Conspire to shake the true and trusting heart : 
 
 Still in the gloamin, by the river side, 
 
 When calmness sleeps upon the smooth expanse, 
 
 And all is hush, save plunge of sportive trout, 
 
 (Propitious hour !) fond lovers meet and stray, 
 
 Forgetful of the time, till, from below 
 
 The adverse bank, peeps out the warning moon. 
 
92 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 In moorland farms, the season now invites 
 Him, who would change the heath-flower for the 
 
 pea, 
 To draw his drains both deep and broad, with sides 
 Of easy slope. Seldom three ells in width 
 And two in depth, are, by experience, found 
 Unsuitable. Where mosses level stretch, 
 With hoary caunachs bending in the blast, 
 There wider, deeper, scoop ; for slowly there 
 The sable current flows : yet, to an eye 
 That's skilful, rarely will there want some line 
 Which, though descending with a gentle slope, 
 Scarcely perceptible, will yet afford 
 A fall sufficient to lay dry the whole. 
 
 But though laid dry, 'tis yet unfit to bear 
 The labouring team, and, for some years, the spade 
 Must turn the spongy soil, and form the ridge. 
 
 V* 
 
MAY. 93 
 
 Chiefly with lime, profusely scattered, mix 
 The surface soil, while in a moistened state ; 
 For, when devoid of moisture, moss resists 
 The caustic power, and lies a useless pulp. 
 
 From desarts thus reclaimed, some vainly hope 
 At once to reap a rustling crop, but find 
 Frustrate their hopes, and seed and labour lost. 
 During the first two years potatoes yield 
 A sure increase, abundant ; for their leaves 
 Luxuriant shade the open soil, that else, 
 Unable to retain or dew or genial shower, 
 Arid and steril lies. Besides, the plants 
 Of taller stem require a firmer hold 
 Than moss affords, which, but by slow degrees 
 Subsiding into solid mould, displays 
 A waste transformed into a waving plain. 
 
 4k 
 
94 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 No more the heath-fowl there her nestling brood 
 Fosters, no more the dreary plover plains ; 
 And when, from frozen regions of the pole, 
 The wintry bittern, to his wonted haunt, 
 On weary wing, returns, he finds the marsh 
 Into a joyless stubble-ridge transformed, 
 And mounts again to seek some watery wild. 
 
 These tribes, exiled, another resting place, 
 Adapted to their wants, soon find ; but man, 
 When forced his dwelling-place to leave, the fields 
 Which he and his forefathers ploughed, and seeks, 
 Alas ! to find some other home of peace, 
 Where he may live a tiller of the ground, 
 He seeks in vain ; sad the reverse which he 
 And his are doomed to prove ! — no choice is left 
 But exile to a foreign shore, or, worse, 
 To darksome city lane. Behold the band 
 
MAY. 95 
 
 With some small remnant of their household gear, 
 Drawn by the horse which once they called their 
 
 own ; 
 Behold them take a last look of that roof, 
 From whence no smoke ascends, and onward move 
 In silence ; whilst each passing object wakes 
 Remembrances of scenes that never more 
 Will glad their hearts ;— the mill, the smiddy blaze 
 So cheerful, and the doubling hammer's clink 
 Now dying on the ear, now on the breeze 
 Heard once again. Ah, why that joyous bark 
 Precursive ! Little dost thou ween, poor thing, 
 That ne'er again the slowly-stepping herd, 
 And nibbling flock, thou'lt drive a-fieid or home ; 
 That ne'er again thou'lt chace the limping hare, 
 While, knowing well thy eager yelp, she scorns 
 Thy utmost speed, and, from the thistly lea 
 Espies, secure, thy puzzled fruitless search. 
 
96 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Now noisome alleys, and the crowded street, 
 Thy haunts must be. 
 
 But soon thou wilt forget 
 The cheerful fields ; not so the infant train, 
 Thy playmates gay ; not so the exiles old, 
 Who thought at last, below yon church-yard elms, 
 Now fading from their view, to lay their heads 
 In peace ; they, old and young, ne'er will forget 
 Their former happy home. Oft from their high 
 And wretched roof, they look, trying, through 
 
 clouds 
 Of driving smoke, a glimpse of the green fields 
 To gain, while, at the view, they feel their hearts 
 Sinking within them. Ah ! these vain regrets 
 For happiness, that now is but a dream, 
 Are not their sorest evil ; no, disease 
 (The harvest of the crowded house of toil,) 
 
MAY. f)7 
 
 Approaches, withering first the opening bloom 
 Of infant years :— As wild flowers, which the hand 
 Of roaming botanist, from some sweet bank, 
 Remote in woodland solitudes, transplants 
 To his rank garden mould, soon droop the head, 
 And languish till they die ; so, pining, sink 
 These little ones. O ! that heart-wringing cry, 
 To take them home,— to take them home again,— 
 Their ceaseless, death-bed cry, poor innocents ! 
 Repeated while the power to lisp is theirs •— 
 Alas ! that home no more shall ye behold, 
 No more along the thistly lea pursue 
 The flying down ; no more, transported, rush 
 From learning s humble door, with play-mates 
 
 blythe, 
 To gather pebbles in the shallow burn ; 
 Death is your comrade now,— the grave your 
 
 home. 
 
 N 
 
98 BRITISH GEORCICS. 
 
 O ye, whose princely territories stretch 
 Afar o'er hill and dale, think, — ere ye sweep 
 Your ancient tenantry from off the land, — 
 That swollen rent-rolls are too dearly bought, 
 By that enormous misery which ye hurl 
 On ruined hundreds, to make way for one. 
 
 Some ousted husbandmen, when other lands 
 Are in their power, reject the golden boon, 
 And often rue the occasion lost, deterred 
 Too easily by fear, clothed in the garb 
 Of prudence. Stunted crops, a scanty sward, 
 Though doubtful signs, the over-prudent scare 
 From lands oft times intrinsically rich. 
 Some signs there are by nature pointed out, 
 And not dependant on the care of man, 
 All things disguising ; these will not mislead, 
 
MAY. 99 
 
 These you may trust. The herbs, hung round with 
 
 bells, 
 Denote, unerringly, a soil that's dry ; 
 And chief the fox-glove flower, wherein the bee 
 Diving, concealed, extracts ambrosial food. 
 The blue-bell, too, where'er the soil is moist, 
 Ascends the sheep-fold's turfy bound, and shakes 
 Its pretty flowerets in the July gale. 
 
 Profusion even of weeds, o'ertopping rank 
 The half-choaked growth of grain or pulse, 
 Though most unsightly to the well-skilled eye 
 Of husbandry, are signs, that in the soil 
 There is a vigorous, though neglected power. 
 Nor be forgot the broom's thick clustering blow, 
 Whose blazing brightness on a day of June 
 Dazzles the eye, making it fain to rest 
 On flowers of soberer hue : sometimes with growth 
 
100 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 So strong, luxuriantly strong, it shoots, 
 
 That scarcely o'er the golden forest peers 
 
 The wildered heifers horns, or higher crest 
 
 Of proudly neighing steed. Doubt not that there 
 
 A native pith of soil, a native warmth 
 
 And kindliness resides ; rely that there 
 
 Grain, pulse, or root, whatever the crop, will yield 
 
 An early and exuberant increase. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3June. 
 
 O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
 Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns ; and all 
 From pole to pole is undistinguished blaze. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Stillness of noon, and general rest of nature — Pernicious conse- 
 quences, to men and cattle, of labour in the heat of the day — 
 Twenty hours of light at Mid-summer — Recommendation that 
 the old custom of labourers sleeping at mid-day should be revived — 
 Description of the dawn — Drill-ploughing ofbeanfield — Reason 
 of planting beans in drills, and culmiferous plants in the broad- 
 est way — Slopes best for beans — Time for weeding turnip-field 
 with the plough — with the hoe — Cut down weeds on leas before 
 seed formed — Some herbs that are classed with weeds ought to 
 be spared — The aromatic tribes, mint, sage, thyme, of use against 
 insects — Burning birch, broom, and bourtree blossoms between 
 ridges of green crops a remedy against the fly — Plentiful ma- 
 nure the best preventive— Hay-making ; part of grass crop 
 should be used for stall-feeding — Want of shade hurtful to flocks 
 — Plantations in sheep-walks — Places fit to be planted — De- 
 struction of ancient forests lamented — Ettrick — Torwood — 
 Apostrophe on the Battle of Bannockburn. 
 
 *: 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3fune* 
 
 Beneath the fervour of the noon-tide beam 
 All Nature's works in placid stillness pause, — 
 Save man, and his joint labourer the horse, 
 The bee, and all the idly busy insect tribes ; 
 Even 'mid the deepest groves, the merry bird 
 Sits drowsily, with head beneath its wing ; 
 Each woodland note is hushed, save when the plaint 
 Of cooing ring-dove steals upon the ear. 
 Let man the lesson read, and learn to know 
 The seasons of the day, as of the year ; 
 
104 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 To mark the hours for labour and for rest, 
 Nor sacrifice convenience, ease, and health, 
 To method's rules, which only then are wise, 
 When bending to the changing year s decree. 
 The shortened reign of night, the early peep 
 Of dawn, protracted long, yet giving light 
 Abundant for the labours of the field, 
 Point out the hours for toil. Why should the 
 
 plough, 
 Or brandished hoe, gleam in the sultry ray, 
 When man and beast, beneath a load of heat 
 Oft panting stop oppressed. Hence Fever comes, 
 And hence the deadly sun-stroke ; hence old age 3 
 And prematurely lyart locks, to man ; 
 And hence (what, in these calculating times, 
 Will seem of more account) an unseen loss, 
 Proportioned to the cattle's shortened years. 
 
JUNE. 105 
 
 Wiser than we, our fathers ere the dawn 
 Were in the field, and, when the sultry hours 
 Approached, enjoyed soft sleep. Let us he taught 
 By them ; by nature lengthening out our day 
 To twice ten hours,— and labour in the cool. 
 Yes, — let the husbandman arouse to toil, 
 While yet the sky a deep-empurpled tint 
 Northward displays, — before the corncraik's call 
 In mist-veiled meads awake the nestling lark, 
 To hail the dawn. Sweet is the dubious bound 
 Of night and morn, when spray and plant are 
 
 drenched 
 In dew ; sweet now the odour-breathing birch, 
 The gaudy broom, the orchard's blushing boughs, 
 The milk-white thorn, on which the blackbird 
 
 roosts, 
 Till light he shakes his ruffling plumes, and chaunts 
 His roundelay ; and sweet the bean-field rows, 
 
 o 
 
106 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 'Tween which the drilling plough is artful steered, 
 Shaking the dew-drop gently from the bloom. 
 
 See how the blooms around each bladed shoot, 
 From root to summit cluster thick the stalk ; 
 (A beauteous sceptre fit for Ceres' hand) — 
 Then mark the contrast of the ear-crowned stalk, 
 Barren below, and in that difference learn 
 Why, 'twixt the bean-field's marshalled ranks, is 
 
 left 
 Free space for air and sun ; and why the spikes 
 Of bearded grain wave equal o'er the plain. 
 Hence, too, this lesson learn, — the sloping croft 
 Suits well the podded kind ; for there soft Zephyr, 
 Kissing the lowest flowers, refreshes all, 
 Then waves his lingering wings, wafting afar 
 A balmy odour :. struck with new delight, 
 The toil-worn traveller pauses on his way, 
 
JUNE. 107 
 
 And, with a smile of pleasure, snuffs the air. 
 Perhaps some veteran, whom Egyptic sands 
 Have reft of sight, (O when will warfare cease !) 
 Leans on his staff, and wishes that but once, 
 But only once, he could behold these blooms, 
 Which now recal his father's little field. 
 
 Now is the time before the thistle blow, 
 While gule is in the flower, and charlock breathes 
 Its cloying scent around, the weeding task 
 To urge between the turnip's verdant ranks. 
 Emburied by the double mould-board, down 
 On either side the noxious race are laid, 
 While, by the waves of crumbling earth heaved up, 
 The plants are cherished. 
 
 Some the hoe prefer, 
 Which female hands, or, if of lighter make, 
 
108 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The childish grasp can wield ; even his small hands, 
 Of years so simple, that he grieves to hurt 
 The pretty flowers, which, strung about his neck, 
 He wears with more delight than kings their crowns. 
 Thus, too, the crop itself (soon as the plants 
 Four leaves spread fully forth) is duly thinned. 
 
 Besides the plough and hoe, the sweeping scythe 
 Will much avail to wage the weeding war. — 
 If o'er your leas the yellow ragwort spread 
 A gaudy forest ; or the seedy dock 
 Uprear its stalk prolific ; or the tribe 
 Of thistles fenced with prickly arms, — spare not 
 The emblem dear, but ruthless lay it low, 
 With all its brother cumberers of the ground : 
 For, if allowed to stand, the down-winged seed 
 Flies far, a pastime to your playful elves, 
 To you a cause of meikle loss and bale. 
 
JUNE. 109 
 
 Let none of all the intrusive race even form 
 Their seed ; for know, — the fructifying stage 
 Of vegetation most exhausts the soil ; 
 And, though cut down before they shed their fruit, 
 Mixed with the compost mound, they but create 
 A magazine of poisons for your fields. 
 
 Some herbs, that, to the unobserving eye 
 Of ignorance, are prized of small account, 
 Or classed with weeds, deserve a better name, 
 And should be spared : The aromatic tribes, 
 Mint, sage, and flowery thyme, are sovereign an- 
 tidotes 
 Against the insect pest, powerful though small, 
 Blighting at once the green leaf and the grain. 
 Seldom I've seen this ruin, where the buzz 
 Of numerous bees comes from the wild-thyme balk, 
 That parts the various crops. The smaller race 
 
110 BRITISH GEOUGICS. 
 
 Of insects shun most odours : hence our sires 
 
 Around and in their gardens, wont to rear 
 
 The strong-fumed elder; hence (the cause forgot) 
 
 Our garden borders still with boxwood fringed. 
 
 But if the tiny brood, — viewless at first, 
 
 Save by the microscopic power, that opes 
 
 The vast invisible of Nature's works, 
 
 Minutely grand, — have gathered strength to foil 
 
 Such weak annoyance ; fear not round your fields, 
 
 Or even between your ridges, green and full 
 
 Of sap, to kindle heaps of birchen twigs 
 
 And bitter broom, mixed with the dark green leaves 
 
 And blossoms white of elder ; — thick a cloud 
 
 Of acrid smoke, in rolling wreaths, invests 
 
 The death-struck hosts, galling the gazer's eye, 
 
 Thus proving, with what potency malign 
 
 Into the filmy organs of the foe 
 
 Diminutive, it needs must penetrate. 
 
JUNE. Ill 
 
 But better the prevention than the cure ; 
 And for prevention nought so much avails 
 As plentiful manure ; for then the seeds 
 Burst vigorous from their cells, nor linger long, 
 Blanched and enervated beneath the mould : 
 Quickly the blades the vivifying air 
 Inhale, assume a deep and deeper green, 
 And with such constant lusty growth expand 
 The leaf luxuriant, that no rest is found, 
 No tranquil nidus for the adhesive eggs, 
 Which thus, for ever marred, abortive prove. 
 
 Such is the culture of the verdant crops, 
 That in the wintry months fresh food supply 
 To herd and flock, — most grateful interchange 
 With strawy sheaf thrown in from time to time. 
 Or fragrant armful. 
 
112 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Hark ! the whetstone rasps 
 Along the mower's scythe ; for now's the time 
 To reap the grassy mead, — ere yet the bee 
 Into the purple clover-flower can shoot 
 Her searching tube, — ere yet the playful imp 
 Chacing, waist-deep, the restless butterfly, 
 Can from the red flowers suck the honied juice; 
 Now every stalk and leaf is full distent 
 With richest sap ; nor is the latent strength, 
 By which a second growth rivals the first, 
 Exhausted by the efflorescent stage. 
 
 Though other field-works at the twilight break 
 Of day begin, shunning the sultry hours, 
 Hay -harvest, first and last, demands the sun. 
 Not till his thirsty beam have sipped the dew 
 That glistering returns his morning smile, 
 The mower's scythe be heard : then equal ranged, 
 
JUNE. 113 
 
 With crescent strokes that closely graze the ground, 
 
 The stooping band extend the ridgy swathes. 
 
 Ah ! spare, thou pitying swain, a ridge-breadth 
 
 round 
 The partridge nest ! so shall no new-come lord — 
 To ope a vista to some ivied tower, — 
 Thy cottage raze ; but when the day is done, 
 Still shall the twig-bowered seat, on which thy sire 
 Was wont at even-tide to talk, invite 
 Thy weary limbs; there peace and health shall 
 
 bless 
 Thy frugal fare, served by the unhired hand, 
 That seeks no wages save a parent's smile. 
 
 To dry the swathe, and yet to save the sap, 
 Should be your double aim. Some, void of skill, 
 Believe, that by long bleaching in the sun 
 
H4 « BRITISH GEORaiCS. 
 
 Their end is gained ; but thus they scorch, not dry, 
 The fragrant wreaths. This ancient error shun. 
 
 Soon as the scythes the mid-way field have 
 reached, 
 See old and young at distance due succeed ; 
 The waning spinstress, and the buxom maid ; 
 The boy rejoicing in the important toil, 
 And striving, though with yet unequal strength, 
 To match the best, — all with inverted rakes 
 Toss the fresh wreath, and ted it lightly round, 
 With gleesome hearts, feeling the toil no task. 
 The very dogs seem smitten with the joy 
 Of this new merriment, this flowery work, 
 And, deeming all in sport, run, bark, and frisk, 
 Or toss, with buried snout, the tedded flakes. 
 
JUNE. 115 
 
 Full soon the rake gains on the creeping scythe ; 
 And now the sun, with westering wheel, begins 
 To slope his course, when, half forespent, the l>a;ii 
 Bethink themselves, 'tis time to pause from toil. 
 Straight to the hedge-row shade, with willing step, 
 Though slow, they wend, — and, seated on the sward 
 In peaceful circle, join the gray-haired sire, 
 In asking God to bless the daily bread 
 He bounteously bestows ! with cheerful hearts 
 Their bread they eat, nor other beverage seek 
 Than what the milky pail unstinted gives. 
 Finished the brief repast, and thanks returned, 
 Some sleep the hour away, some talk and jeer, 
 While willing laughter, on the thread-bare jest, 
 Bestows the meed of wit ; others, apart, 
 Hold whispering converse with the lass they love. 
 The younger wights, with busy eye, explore 
 The foggage, where, concealed with meikle art, 
 
116 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The brown bee's cups in rude-formed clusters lie : 
 Or, should they find a sable swarm's retreat, 
 Deep earthed, the mining spade must lay it bare. 
 Nor unresisting do the inmates yield 
 Their little state ; forth, at the first alarm, 
 They swarming rush, and chacing, in long train, 
 The flying foe, deal sharp, not deadly wounds. 
 Rallied, at length, the assailants to the charge, 
 With doublets doffed, attack the stinging tribes, 
 And leaguering the porch, ruthless beat down 
 The issuing hosts, till, by degrees reduced, 
 The feeble remnant, 'mid their fated homes, 
 Await their hapless doom ; — the insidious mine 
 Meanwhile proceeds, and soon (like human states) 
 The little kingdom and its treasures lie 
 Prostrate and ruined 'neath the spoiler s hand. 
 
JUNE. 117 
 
 While thus glides on the mid-day hour, the pause 
 Has not been useless ; diligent the sun 
 (The time though short) already has prepared 
 The scattered verdure for the windrow waves. 
 First flat and low, till, as the day declines, 
 Now tossed, now side-long rolled, by many a rake, 
 Accumulating slow, waist high they swell. 
 One thing forget not, — that athwart the breeze 
 The rows be laid ; for thus all through the heaps, 
 Quite loosely piled, the drying influence sifts. 
 Some leave them here to imbibe the midnight dews, 
 Or drenching shower, and day by day repeat, 
 For three full suns, the same unvaried course. 
 Be wiser thou, proportioning the time, 
 And quantity of labour, to the kind 
 And richness of the crop : Some grasses need 
 Much both of sun and breeze : the clover kinds, 
 And chief the red, so succulent, require, 
 
118 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Unless well mingled with the lighter tribes, 
 Much spreading, tossing, rolling to and fro. 
 
 Others again, whate'er the grassy crop, 
 If one day's sun they gain, no longer trust 
 The fickle sky, but rear the verdant cock 
 Of size diminutive ; these, with a little sheaf 
 Bound near the tops, and by the fingers combed, 
 Then circularly spread like bee-hive's thatch, 
 They shield from sudden rain or nightly dew. 
 So fenced, the little tows, if gently raised 
 From time to time, in seven days more may join 
 To rear the swelling tramprick, and defy 
 Both wind and rain. Beware, nor long delay 
 To pile the stack, on trees and boughs transverse, 
 From damp secured : — see, it surmounts the reach 
 Of arms full-stretched ; — then, from below, with 
 forks 
 
JUNE. 119 
 
 Up-poised, the fragrant heaps are spread, 
 And trampled with much jest and merriment, 
 And hurtless falls of blythsome lad and lass. 
 
 To destine all your grassy crop to hay 
 Is thriftless husbandry. In summer drouths 
 Preserve a portion green for stake and stall ; 
 For in the pasture-field, the biting flies 
 Unceasingly, though lashed away, return, 
 And still return, tormenting, to the charge ; 
 Till, goaded past endurance, round the field 
 The maddened horse scours snorting, while the herd 
 Gallop in awkward guise, with tails erect, — 
 And, wildly bellowing, spite of hedge or ditch, 
 Rush to some neighbouring stream, and, plunging, 
 
 lave 
 Their heaving sides. 
 
120 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Nor less the fleecy tribes 
 Suffer from noon-day heats. Upon thy hills, 
 Fair Scotland ! which the goodly forest crowned 
 In times of old, a tree, or sheltering bush, 
 Is now but rarely seen, — the mossy breach, 
 Or stone, or flood-scooped bank, the only shield 
 Where, screened but scantily, the panting sheep 
 Can shun the sweltering beam : hence various ills 
 Assail the harmless race. Nature points out 
 The remedy,— a shade- and what so fit 
 For shade as trees ; a narrow belt will serve, 
 If crescent-formed, to screen a numerous flock. 
 Select the spot with skill ; trees love not heights. 
 Stunted and slow, upon the stormy brow, 
 They'll scarce afford your children's flock a shade. 
 Observe where Nature plants ; — the little haugh, 
 The murmuring brooklet's cradle, or the side 
 Of grassy slope, just where it joins the plain. 
 
JUNE. 121 
 
 There plant the bonny birch, the spreading elm, 
 The alder, quick of growth and early green, 
 The broad-leaved plane ; and careful fence the 
 whole. 
 
 Where, Ettrick ! now, thy forest wide out- 
 stretched, 
 Here towering high, in all its greenwood pride, 
 As swelled the mountain steeps, and there as low 
 Sinking into the dale, one sylvan scene, 
 Extending far as eye could reach, unbroke 
 Save by the winding river's course, or cliff 
 Projecting, or sweet sunny glade, where lay, 
 In ruminating peace, the fallow deer, 
 A grove of antlers, or by airy tower 
 That far o'erlooked to guard the green domain. 
 Where, Ettrick, now thy pride ! save in the song 
 Of that bold Minstrel, whose loud-clanging strings, 
 
122 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Struck by the lightning of his ardent soul, 
 Awaken echoes that responses made 
 To noise of wars recorded in his lay ! 
 Where, Cheviot ! now, thy oaken canopy 
 Of boughs, beneath whose twilight vault, full- 
 armed, 
 The horseman rode, nor scathed his nodding crest ! 
 Where now thine, Torwood ! sacred to the cause 
 Of Liberty ! where now the tree revered, 
 Beneath whose boughs the head of Wallace lay 
 That ill-starred eve, ere Graham at Falkirk fell, 
 Beneath whose boughs the royal tent was stretched 
 Of Bruce, preparing for the glorious day 
 Of Bannockburn ! At Bannockburn — what heart; 
 That boasts one drop of Scottish blood, but feels 
 A patriot glow burn thrilling through his frame, 
 New-nerve his languid arm, and make him smile 
 At, (what in sober mood stirs bodings dark,) 
 
 10 
 
JUNE. 123 
 
 At Gallic thunder threatening Albion's shores ! 
 Even yet the ploughman, as with sideward curve 
 He passes by the memorable stone 
 (Fit pedestal for Freedom's form sublime,) 
 Wherein was fixed the Scottish standard, feels 
 A conscious pride his bosom swell, and grasps 
 With firmer hold the smooth- worn shafts. 
 
 To them who on a lovely morn of June, 1 
 At break of day, knelt on the dewy sward, 
 While full in view Inchaffray's abbot reared 
 The sacred host; 2 to them who, ere the shut 
 
 ' " Monday the 24th of June 1314, at break of day, the English 
 army moved on to the attack." — Hailes. 
 
 ■ Maurice, abbot of Inchaffray, placing himself on an eminence, 
 celebrated mass in sight of the Scottish army. He then passed 
 along the front barefooted, bearing a crucifix in his hand, and ex- 
 horted the Scots, in few and forcible words, to combat for their 
 rights and liberty. The Scots kneeled down. " They yield, 1 " cried 
 
124 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Of blood-besprinkled flowers, fell in the cause 
 Of Freedom and their Country ! to the men 
 Who that day's fight survived, and saw once more 
 Their homes, their children ; — and, when silvery 
 
 hairs 
 Their temples thin besprent, lived to recount, 
 On winter nights, the achievements of that day ! — 
 To them be ever raised the muses' voice 
 In grateful song triumphant ; — for by them 
 Was saved that independent state, so long main- 
 tained, 
 From which, though in an evil hour resigned, 
 Are now derived that liberty, those laws, 
 Beneath whose equal rule the swain secure 
 
 Edward ; " see they implore mercy? " They do" answered Ingleram 
 
 de Umphraville, " but not ours. On that Jield they will be victorious, 
 
 \ 
 
 or die" 
 
JUNE. 12.5 
 
 Now wandering, at the silent gloamin tide, 
 Amid his earing fields, anticipates, 
 With secret joy, and thankfulness of heart 
 Exuberantly full, a plenteous year ! 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3falp. 
 
 Resounds the living surface of the ground: 
 
 Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hour, 
 
 To him who muses through the woods at noon. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 General features of this month— Destroy weeds— Cultivation of 
 bees— Great vigilance necessary with bees at this season— Warm 
 and sheltered situation best preventive of distant flights— Direc- 
 tions respecting the apiary— Trees, shrubs, and flowers— Honey 
 dew — Prognostics of swarming— Directions when they swarm — 
 Removal of bees at close of Summer to the moorlands — Diseas- 
 ed hive— Remedies — Virtue of honey as a medicine for man — 
 Nature's remedies the most simple — Fever — Cold affusion — 
 Apostrophe to Dr Currie— Cold-bathing preventive of fever — 
 Swimming, 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 3f* 
 
 JN o more at dewy dawn, or setting sun, 
 The blackbird's song floats mellow down the dale ; 
 Mute is the lark, or soars a shorter flight, 
 With carol briefly trilled, and soon descends. 
 In full luxuriance clothed, of various green, 
 The laughing fields and meadows, far and wide, 
 Gladden the eye : all-beauteous now 
 The face of Nature smiles serenely gay ; 
 And even the motley race of weeds enhance 
 Her rural charms : Yet let them not be spared : 
 
 R 
 
130 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Still as they rise, unconquered, let the hoe 
 Or ploughshare crush them. In your fields permit 
 No wild-flower to expand its teeming bloom : 
 In wood and wild, there let them bud and blow 
 By haunted streamlet, where the wandering bee, 
 Humming from cup to bell, collects their sweets. 
 
 Though rarely prized by husbandmen, whose 
 bounds 
 Embrace a widely spread domain, the bee 
 Is not contemned by him, whose narrow means, 
 Upon his ploughgate croft, require the help 
 Of every rural art ; nor by the man 
 Whose sole possession is his cottage home, 
 And garden plat ; nor yet by him who loves 
 Now to survey the planets as they roll, 
 Now to explore the wondrous insect's ways, 
 
JULY. 131 
 
 Adoring, while in both he traces power, 
 Almighty as benign. 
 
 This month requires, 
 From all who cultivate the frugal race, 
 A vigilance unceasing, lest unwarned 
 They lift too late their lightened hives, and find 
 The younger broods have ta'en a distant flight. 
 If in an evening sky, serene and calm, 
 The martins higher than their wonted flight, 
 On arrowy pinions, scarcely quivering, soar, 
 And make the lofty turret or the spire, 
 That far below low'rs in the deepening shade, 
 Seem of its height diminished, — then the air 
 Its utmost buoyancy has gained ; and hence 
 All things that in the liquid region ply, 
 Each bird and insect, float on easy wing : 
 On such an eve^ who marks the martin's flight, 
 
132, BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Needs not to scan the argent column's rise 
 Prophetic, but, from Nature's signs, foresees 
 A ruddy morning tinge the dappled cope. 
 
 Oft when, at even-tide, a cluster hangs 
 No larger than laburnum's tasseled flower, 
 Long ere the morrow's sun has dried the dews, 
 The emigrating tribe is gone past hope ; 
 Nor, after anxious search o'er hill and dale, 
 Does e'er the slumberous owner hear again 
 Their welcome hum. — 
 
 Or, on a Sabbath morn, 
 Cloudy and calm, with not one sunny gleam 
 To lure them forth, I've seen a numerous swarm 
 (Whether attracted by the silence deep 
 And pause of rural toil, or sudden struck 
 By that instinctive impulse, which directs 
 
JULY. 133 
 
 More wisely than proud Reason's rules,) rush out 
 In myriads and take wing ; while mingling sounds 
 Of distant church-bell, and the jangling pan, 
 Essayed in vain to stop the living cloud. 
 
 Such flights to hinder, nought conduces more 
 Than warm exposure, sheltered, sunny, low, 
 With pebbly rivulet, murmuring near at hand 
 O'er stones emerging from its chafing stream. 
 Before, but not so near as to o'ershade 
 Your buzzing hamlet, let the linden tree 
 Sweet foliaged, and laburnum's golden flowers, 
 Present the tribe, when meditating flight, 
 A tempting seat, a blossoming abode. 
 Let all around a labyrinth extend 
 Of various shrubs, blooming at various times, 
 From the first breath of Spring, till Autumn tinge 
 The universal blush with sober brown ; — 
 
134 BRITISH GEORG1CS. 
 
 And first the downy-blossomed palm, l the sloe-bush 
 
 dark, 
 Whose early flower anticipates the leaf, 
 The hawthorn, witness of fond lovers' vows, 
 The purple lilac, and the golden broom, 
 The rosy brier, and bramble stretching far 
 It's prickly arms. Defended by such walls, 
 In open plats be seen flowers of all hue, 
 And odorous herbs, — sweet rosmarine, 
 With wild thyme, breathing far its fresh perfume ; 
 The early daisy, and the crocus cup ; 
 The violet that loves a mossy couch ; 
 The pale primrose ; auricula full fraught 
 With vernal incense ; lily-beds profuse, 
 As if some shaded wreath of Winter's snow 
 Had lingered in the chilly lap of Spring ; 
 Fair daffodillies, hyacin thine rods 
 
 A species of the willow. 
 
JULY. 135 
 
 Enwreathed with azure bells, pinks, marigolds, 
 
 And every blossom of the later year. 
 
 Who loves the labouring race, fails not to fill 
 
 Each nook around his dwelling-place with flowers, 
 
 Till every breeze that through his lattice plays 
 
 Bear fragrance, loading with delight the sense ; 
 
 Even round his windows carefully he trains 
 
 Lithe honey-suckles, vocal with the hum 
 
 Of the loved tribes, which, on a summer's day, 
 
 While screened he sits within the quivering shade, 
 
 Lull every care, and charm his waking dream. 
 
 But none of all the flowery race affords 
 Supplies so plentiful of honey lymph, 
 As, on a misty morning, calm, serene, 
 Are seen, though rarely, pendent from the spikes 
 Of drooping speargrass ; then all other herbs, 
 Each gaudy chaliced bloom, that in the sun 
 
136 BRITISH GE0RGICS. 
 
 Twinkles with sterile dew, deserted hangs ; 
 And busily the humming labourers ply 
 Their easy task, returning loaded soon 
 In oft-repeated journies to the hive. 
 
 Than days preceded by these honied morns, 
 No time is more propitious for the flight 
 Of overflowing swarms. Soon as the sun 
 Has dried the dew, the light precursors fly, 
 Like warping midges on a summer's eve, 
 In reeling dance before the crowded porch. 
 Others along the outside of the hive 
 Run hurriedly, then stopping, ply their wings. 
 The inner legions, pouring from the gate, 
 Increase the pendant cluster, till at once, 
 Streaming, it mounts in air, but soon alights 
 Upon some neighbouring spray, which blackened 
 bends 
 
JULY. 137 
 
 Beneath the load. Haste, spread the sheet, and lay 
 Two rods of mountain-ash along, to keep 
 An opening all around the hive when set. 
 Next cut the loaded branch, nor hesitate, 
 Though, tempting, through the heaving bunch peep 
 
 forth 
 The purpling tint of plumbs full-formed, or ripe 
 The luscious cherry plead like beauty's lip : 
 Pomona's self her pruning hook would urge, 
 And save the living fruit : then spare not thou 
 The knife ; yet use it gently ; gently bear 
 The buzzing branch, and gently lay it down 
 Between the rowan ' rods ; then o'er it place 
 Slowly the hive, and softly spread o'er all 
 Another sheet : quick to the transverse spokes 
 The myriad tribes will mount, and peaceful fill 
 
 1 Mountain-ash. 
 8 
 
138 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Their new abode f There let them rest, 
 Until the sultry hours begin to cool. 
 Upon a level board then place the hive, 
 And round the juncture close each crevice up 
 With well-wrought clay : the noxious reptile race 
 Will else intrude. Sometimes through narrowest 
 
 chink 
 The crawling snail, insinuating, drags 
 His slimy length, and riots on the comb. 
 Even here resources in themselves, devised, 
 Wisely devised, to meet the dire event, 
 Are by the ever-wondrous race displayed. 
 To death they first, with many a sting, devote 
 The unwelcome guest; and then the monstrous 
 
 mass, 
 Which else, corrupting, through the commonwealth 
 Would spread contagion, closely they entomb 
 
 In catacomb, as in his pristine shell. 
 
 10 
 
JULY. 139 
 
 When Summer's blow of flowers begins to fade, 
 Some to the moorlands bear their hives, to cull 
 The treasures of the heathbell ; simple flower ! 
 That still extends its purple tint as far 
 As eye can reach, round many an upland farm : 
 There still, of genuine breed, the colly 1 meets, 
 Barking shrill-toned, the stranger rarely seen ; 
 While near some rushy ricks of meadow hay 
 The startled horse stands gazing, then around 
 His tether-length of twisted hair full stretched, 
 He snorting scours : a toothless harrow serves 
 For garden gate, — where, duly ranged, the hives 
 Stand covered till the evening shades descend. 
 But when the sun-beams glisten on the dew, 
 Forth fly the stranger tribes, and far and near 
 Spread o'er the purple moor, cheering the task 
 Of him who busy digs his winter fuel ; 
 
 Shepherd's dog. 
 
140 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 For 'mid these wilds no sound gives sign of life 
 Save hum of bee, or grashopper's hoarse chirp ; 
 Or when the heath-fowl strikes her distant call; 
 Or plovers, lighting on the half-buried tree, 
 Scream their dire dirge where once the linnet sung. 
 
 If e'er disease assail the humming race, 1 
 (For they, no more than man, escape disease,) 
 Its first approaches watch : nor are the signs 
 Ambiguous of their state : their colour fades ; 
 A haggard leanness in their visage speaks ; 
 The bodies then, bereft of life, are borne 
 From out the silent porch, and frequent flies 
 The winged funeral : deep, meanwhile, within, 
 A murmur faint, and long drawn out, is heard, 
 Like south winds moaning through a grove of pines. 
 Here, let me urge to burn strong-scented herbs, 
 
 1 See Virgil's 4th Georgia 
 
JULY. 141 
 
 Neglecting not the helpless commonwealth 
 
 To aid with honied reeds, pushed gently in : 
 
 And with the offered food fear not to mix 
 
 Oak-apple juice, dried roses, and wild thyme, 
 
 With centaury, exhaling powerful fumes. 
 
 In meadows grows a flower, by husbandmen 
 
 Called starwort ; easily it may be known, 
 
 For, springing from a single root, it spreads 
 
 A foliage affluent, golclen-hued itself, 
 
 While from the leaves of darkest violet, 
 
 An under-tint of lighter purple shines : 
 
 Harsh to the taste, it wrings the shepherd's mouth : 
 
 Its root, in wine infused, affords at once 
 
 The hapless sufferers medicine and food. 
 
 To man himself, the honey cell is found, 
 In various ills, a virtue to possess 
 Surpassing far the medicated cup — 
 
142 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Simple the remedies which Nature gives ! 
 What cure so simple, and so powerful too, 
 As is the watery element, when fierce 
 Through every vein the sultry season rolls 
 A fev'rous tide, and fell Delirium nails, 
 Upon the throbbing head, his glowing crown. 
 O'er the parched skin the cold affusion flows 
 Again, and yet again, in copious stream ; 
 Till by degrees, more calmly, slowly, leaps 
 The restless pulse ; delicious coolness glides 
 Through all the frame ; and, as when thunder- 
 clouds 
 Have rolled away, and forky fires have ceased 
 To vex the welkin, forth the sun again 
 Looks down complacently on wood and stream ; 
 Illumined by his smile, the drooping flowers, 
 The trees, rejoice ; — so from the eye, obscured 
 Erewhile, the renovated soul beams forth 
 
JULY. 143 
 
 Intelligence on child and watching friend, 
 Raising their hands in silent thanks to God ! 
 
 And did the Sage, whose powerful genius shed 
 A flood of light, where only glimmering rays 
 Erewhile confounded, not illumed, the path 
 Of science, — did that man, the orphan's friend, 
 Die unrewarded ! No ; a meed was his 
 Most grateful to his heart, a meed that soothed 
 His dying hour, — the sweet solacing thought, 
 That, though no more beside the couch of pain 
 His accents wafted healing on their wings, 
 His silent page, amid Disease's storm, 
 Was still the guiding chart to Safety's shore ! 
 O what a balm to his benignant soul, 
 When looking forward to the parting hour, 
 To think that then, perhaps, some weeping groupe 
 
144 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Hailed, through his means, a parent snatched from 
 death ! 
 
 Yet not alone, to quench the burning pest, 
 Its wondrous power the gelid lymph exerts ; 
 Oft it extinguishes the kindling spark ; 
 And when a youthful band, buoyant with joy, 
 Hie to the river side, they little ween, 
 That safety thus with pleasure is combined. 
 Come, then, ye jovial swains ! and in the shade, 
 Ere sultry noon, throw off your cumb'rous garb : 
 The pool, relucent to its pebbly bed, 
 With here and there a slowly-sailing trout, 
 Invites the throbbing, half-reluctant, breast 
 To plunge : — the dash re-echoes from the rocks, 
 And smooth, in sinuous course, the swimmer winds ; 
 Now, with extended arms, rowing his way, 
 
JULY. 145 
 
 And now, floating with sunward face, outstretched, 
 Till, blinded by the dazzling beam, he turns, 
 Then to the bottom dives, emerging soon 
 With stone, as trophy, in his waving hand. 
 
 T 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS 
 
 <augu0t. 
 
 When corn-rigs wave yellow, and blue heather bells 
 Bloom bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells. 
 
 Ramsay. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Characteristics of the month — Leveret — Partridge, and her brood— 
 Sportsman reconnoitring the moors with dogs, anticipating the 
 pleasures of the shooting season — Highland reapers journeying 
 to the Lowlands — Reapers assembled to be hired — Address to 
 Scotland as still the country of freedom — A word of advice to 
 Statesmen — Wheat harvest — Danger from floods on river sides 
 — Prognostics of heavy rain — River overflowing its banks — 
 Land improved by the overflowing of rivers — Mud in creeks of 
 stream — Top-dressing with composts of alluvial mud — Different 
 magazines of manure supplied by nature — Lint-steeping de- 
 structive to fish — Fisheries— Herring fishing — Evening — Vil- 
 lage herd — Sportsman returning from moorlands — Transition 
 from that peaceful warfare to the situation of Spain. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 august 
 
 Intense the viewless flood of heat descends 
 On hill, and dale, and wood, and tangled brake, 
 Where, to the chirping grashopper, the broom, 
 With crackling pod, responds; the fields em- 
 browned, 
 Begin to rustle in the autumn breeze, 
 While from the waving shelter, bolder grown, 
 The lev' ret, at the misty hour of morn, 
 Forth venturing, limps to nip the dewy grass. 
 The partridge, too, and her light-footed brood, 
 
150 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 As yet half-fledged, now haunt the corn-field skirts, 
 Or on new-weeded turnip fields are spied, 
 Running, in lengthened file, between the drills. 
 
 Now to the heath, ere yet the wished-for morn, 
 That licences the game of death, arrive, 
 The sportsman hies to mark the moor-hen's haunt. 
 Boisterous with joy, his dogs bark, jump, and how], 
 And running out before, in frolic chace, 
 Return as fast, marring his stumbling steps. 
 But when they reach the purple waste, afar, 
 With stooping heads, they roam, oft leaping up, 
 With backward look, to mark their master's mien. 
 He, with keen eye, prowling, surveys the ground, 
 And haply finds the game his dogs have missed. 
 Yes, with relentless eye, he sees the dam, 
 Basking by some old cairn, amid. her brood, 
 Or spreading o'er their harmless heads her wings ; 
 
AUGUST. 151 
 
 He sees, unmoved by all a mother's cares, 
 And, as they rise, he counts his destined prey, 
 Noting, with forward-darting look, the spot, 
 Where their yet feeble wings they panting rest. 
 
 Oft, at this season, faintly meets the ear 
 The song of harvest bands, that plod their way 
 From dark Lochaber, or the distant isles, 
 Journeying for weeks to gain a month of toil : 
 Sweet is the falling of the single voice, 
 And sweet the joining of the choral swell, 
 Without a pause ta'en up by old and young, 
 Alternating, in wildly-measured strain. 
 Thus they, 'mid clouds of flying dust, beguile, 
 With songs of ancient times, their tedious way. 
 
 At city gate, or market-place, now groupes 
 Of motley aspect wait a master's call. 
 
 10 
 
152 BRITISH GEQRGICS. 
 
 The grey-haired man, leaning upon his staff, 
 Is there ; the stripling, and the sun-burnt maid ; 
 The sallow artizan, who quits his tools, 
 To breathe awhile among the pleasant fields, 
 And earn at once health, and his daily bread. 
 No scowling tyrant there goes round, and round, 
 Viewing the human merchandize with look 
 That fiends in vain would match ; no dread is there 
 Of separation ; parents, children, friends, 
 With one consent, take or reject the meed ; 
 Place, time, and master, all are in their choice. 
 
 Scotland, " with all thy faults, I love thee still !" 
 For freedom here still on the poor man smiles, 
 Sweetens his crust, and his hard pillow smoothes. 
 O ye, who guide the state, and mould the laws, 
 Beware lest, with your imposts overstrained, 
 Beware ! lest thus ye crush that noble spirit, 
 
AUGUST. 153 
 
 Which lives by equal laws, with them expires. — 
 Unequal burdens make the o'erburdened slaves ; 
 And, making slaves, they make men cowards too. 
 
 But hence this joyless theme, and let me seek 
 The fields once more ; — hark ! at yon cottage door 
 The sickle harsh upon the grindstone grates, 
 Which, merrily, most uncouth music makes, 
 Drowning the song of him who whirls it round. 
 
 And now it oft befals, when farmers' hopes 
 
 Are all but realized, a mildew creeps 
 
 Along the wheaten ridge, blighting the ears. 
 
 Haste, then, the sickle urge, nor be deterred 
 
 Though, in some spots, a greenish tint pronounce 
 
 The ears unripe : the vegetating stage 
 
 Ere now is past ; and should no canker shoot 
 
 Its poison through the plant, the grain will prove, 
 
 u 
 
154 BRITISH GEOROICS. 
 
 Though seeming immature, a healthy crop. 
 But, if allowed to stand, the subtle pest 
 Pervades stalk, husk, and grain, blasting the whole. 
 And even when your wheaten field betrays 
 No sickly hue, but gives a lusty rustle, 
 When waving in the wind, wait not in hope 
 That, standing, it will gain in bulk and weight : 
 Avail yourself betimes of sky serene, 
 And with the sun the reapers lead afield. 
 How pleasant to the husbandman the sight 
 Of gleaming sickles, and of swelling sheaves ! 
 How joyfully he twists the rustling band, 
 And, pressing with his knee, binds up the sheaf ! 
 While merrily the jest and taunt go round, 
 Running, like scattered fire, along the line. 
 And still the master's joke should, mingling, cheer 
 The stooping row, and make their labour light. 
 
AUGUST. 155 
 
 Beware, ye swains ! whose level fields extend 
 Along a river-side, and build your sheaves 
 Beyond the utmost verge of highest floods. 
 Or, if you trust them on the perilous spot, 
 Watch carefully the signs foreboding change. 
 
 No sign of gathering storms, both wind and rain, 
 Is surer than the sea-fowl's inland flight. 
 For though the conflict of the winds and waves 
 Be distant far, a sympathetic heave 
 Is felt along the tranquil seeming bays, 
 Warning the hovering flocks of surges loud 
 That soon will lash the shore, and render vain 
 The piercing sight, which, in a peaceful sea, 
 Discerns, high on the wing, the finny prey : 
 But while their briny harvest thus is marred, 
 On shore the coming deluge draws the race 
 
156 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Of reptiles, from their haunts, in mead and grove 
 Concealed, — the puffing frog, the horned snail, 
 And all the species of the slimy tribes, 
 Repast profusely spread. 
 
 He, who contemns 
 These auguries, nor timely moves his shocks 
 To safer ground, will rue when, with the dawn 
 Awaking, loud the river's roar he hears : 
 To doubt, in vain he strives ; his eye confirms 
 The tidings of his ear, and rapid down 
 The foamy current he beholds his sheaves 
 Sweeping along, while, 'mid the havoc, bleats 
 The floating lamb, with meek unconscious face. 
 
 Some rivers, by the mountain-torrents fed, 
 Rush down, with swell so sudden and so high, 
 
AUGUST. 157 
 
 That all her fleetness cannot save the hare, 
 Unless (as erst befel in Clyde's fair dale,) 
 She gain some passing rick : there close she squats. 
 Now in the middle current shot along 
 In swift career, now near the eddying side 
 Whirling amazed, while from the dizzy shore 
 Some shepherd's dog discerns the floating prize, 
 And, barking, scours along, then stops, but fears 
 To venture in ; onward meanwhile she sails, 
 Till, through the broadened vale, the stream ex- 
 pand 
 In gentler course, and gliding past the bank, 
 Restore her, fearful, to the fields again. 
 
 Floods, ruinous to husbandmen, enrich 
 The land itself: See how the pendent sprays 
 That in the flood were dipt, are soiled, and judge 
 
158 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 How richly fraught with vegetable food 
 The stream subsides upon the deluged plain. 
 
 This rich deposit oft unheeded lies 
 In little creeks, and windings of the stream, 
 Accumulated deep ; whence, if removed 
 To swell the compost pile, another store, 
 Soon as another flood recedes, your care rewards. 
 But if your bank, from Nature, has received 
 No flexure, no recess, to intercept 
 The watery wealth, boldly the shore indent 
 With little bays, narrow and slanting up, 
 That past each entrance, smooth the current's force 
 May harmlessly, with easy flow, glide by. 
 A verdure deep, with many a daisy gemmed, 
 In early spring, delights the eye of him 
 Whose compost heaps, rich with alluvial mud, 
 
 8 
 
AUGUST. 159 
 
 O'erspread his pasture fields ; for thus the roots 
 At once are shielded from the wintry frosts, 
 And fed with food, like that which, after showers 
 Of softest fall, or on a dewy morn, 
 Cloudy and still, is seen in earthy coils 
 Vermicular, appearing through the sward. 
 Thus human art still most successful proves, 
 When following nature with unconscious step. 
 
 Full many are the stores of rich manure 
 That lie neglected. Every sluggish ditch 
 And stagnant puddle, during summer heats, 
 Is bottomed with a fertilizing layer. 
 One sign unerring of a magazine, 
 On which the power putrescent has produced 
 Its full effect, is that small insect scum, 
 Minute and sable as the explosive grain, 
 
160 BRITISH GEORGJCS. 
 
 Withal so light, that, by the softest breath 
 
 Of Autumn breeze, 'tis driven to and fro. 
 
 Would husbandmen look round with searching eye, 
 
 And use those meliorating means which lie 
 
 Oft unsuspected, or, if known, despised, 
 
 More rarely would they time and gold expend 
 
 For the vile sweepings of the noisome town. 
 
 The flaxen crop, which now 'tis time to pull, 
 Steeped in some neighbouring pond, converts 
 The simple water into strong manure. 
 Yet many, heedless, bear to far-off moors 
 The sheaves diminutive, and sink them deep 
 In sable pits, from whence was scooped the peat ; 
 Or wantonly, in running brooks, immerge 
 This poison fatal to the scaly tribes. 
 Alas ! below the tainted pool behold 
 The frequent upturned-side gleam in the sun. 
 
AUGUST. 161 
 
 Britannia, to thy richest treasures blind, 
 Treasures that teem in river, firth, and sea, — 
 Why sleep thy laws, and why that harvest blight 
 Which, without seed or toil, is gained ? Extend 
 Protection to thy hardy mountaineers, 
 And, since extruded from their native wilds, 
 Permit them free possession of the waves. 
 
 How sweet, o'er Scotia's hill-encircled seas, 
 The evening sun-beam, slanting down the glens, 
 Illumes the scene where now the busy oars 
 Ply to the chaunted strain, — soft, soothing, wild, — 
 Of days of other years, — perhaps a song, 
 Or cadence of some vocal ruin, spared 
 By ruthless Time, relenting to destroy 
 Those lays with which the voice of Cona lulled 
 The weary wave that slumbered on the shore ! 
 
 x 
 
162 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 But now, with bustling noise, from every stern 
 Run out the folded nets, and, in the brine 
 Plunging, leave far behind a foamy track. 
 
 In lowland dales, at this bland hour of eve, 
 The village herd slow from the common wends 
 Each to her well-known stall, while loud the horn 
 Blows many a needless blast ; and homeward shots 
 Of sated sportsmen, at the moorland skirts, 
 Returning weary, break the placid hush. 
 O peaceful war ! alas, in other lands, 
 The sylvan war is silent. Loud the roar 
 Of thundering ordnance echoes mid the rocks 
 Of proud Iberia, throned amid the blaze 
 Of pealing tubes ; her hands distained 
 With other vintage than the wine-press yields ; 
 Her crown with thistles, roses, shamrocks, wreathed ; 
 
AUGUST. \63 
 
 And at her feet the Gallic lilies torn, 
 Deep-blushing with the blood of murdered babes. 
 Around her see the shattered columns form, 
 While Freedom's standard, waving in her grasp, 
 Soars like an eagle o'er the storm-fraught clouds. 
 

 H 
 
 

 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 eptember. 
 
 Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfned, 
 And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 ft 
 
*» ♦ 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Reaping of oats — Patridge-shooting — Equinoctial winds— Rains 
 more injurious to harvest — Hint at a mode of drying corn in 
 the field — Reaping by moonlight — Highland reapers, on Sab- 
 bath, reading Gaelic Bible — Apostrophe on the translation of 
 the Bible into the Gaelic language — Leading of corn — Stack- 
 building — Tranquillity and silence of the fields after harvest — 
 Kirn, or harvest-home — Highland reapers returning, hearing 
 their language spoken in their native glen — Pleasure of hear- 
 ing the Scottish language first spoken on re-crossing the Bor- 
 der — Regret on prospect of leaving Scotland. 
 
 •<*». 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 eptember* 
 
 Ky lea it is the sky, and temperate the air, 
 That, scarcely stirring, wafts, with gentlest breath, 
 The gossamer light glittering in the sun. 
 And now, the wheat and barley harvest o'er, 
 Blythsome the reapers to the lighter work 
 Of oaten-field repair, and gaily stoop, 
 Grasping the lusty handfuls, while they draw, 
 Close to the ground, the sickle, saving thus 
 The useful straw for fodder or for lair. 
 Severe, yet cheerful, both to old and young, 
 
 IS 
 
16$ BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 This stooping labour ; frequently they pause, 
 For reason slight, or none ; sometimes to gaze 
 Upon the passing coach, that, 'neath a load 
 Enormous, seems to stagger, as it rolls, 
 Amid a cloud of dust ; sometimes to taunt 
 The traveller on foot who plods his way, 
 And, failing in the attempted repartee, 
 Quickens his pace to shun the vollied shower 
 Of rustic wit ; or by the fowler's gun 
 Startled, while o'er the neighbouring hedge 
 The wounded partridge flies, and at their feet 
 Falls, vainly fluttering, followed fast by dog 
 And master. Ruthless man ! how canst thou see, 
 As, lifting that poor bird, it in thy face 
 Looks up ; how can'st thou see that piteous look, 
 That blood-drop trickling down its panting breast, 
 Nor feel compunction for the barbarous deed ! 
 
SEPTEMBER. 169 
 
 Now come the equinoctial blasts, that lay 
 Level the sheaves. This danger to avoid, 
 Look at the forest's topmost twigs, or larch, 
 That ever shuns the most prevailing wind, 
 And let your shocks, placed lengthwise to the 
 
 storm, 
 Present their sloping ends ; else, if they stand 
 Athwart the sweeping tempest's line, o'erthrown, 
 They frequent lie drenched in a furrow pool. 
 
 But more destructive to yon new-piled sheaves, 
 Are rains, which, unaccompanied with wind, 
 Come drizzling down in ceaseless, soaking fall. 
 Singly the sheaves must then be placed upright : 
 Yet even this remedy oft fruitless proves ; 
 For nightly gusts at intervals will blow, 
 And, with the morning sun, you find, your work 
 Laid prostrate. 
 
170 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Strange that implements abound, 
 In every process of the farmer s art, 
 Save this ; and yet, without much pains or cost, 
 Means sure there are, by which, in shorter space 
 Than now required, if but the rain remit, 
 The dripping crop may thoroughly be dried. 
 A row of forked stakes draw cross the field, 
 With spars from cleft to cleft laid all along, — 
 On these your sheaves, bound near the tops, sus- 
 pend; 
 Thus, while descends the rain, fast trickling off 
 Each dangling sheaf, the capillary bunch, 
 Free of the plashy ground, no moisture draws. 
 
 In rainy harvests, when the day is dimmed 
 With one continued shower, sometimes the night 
 Clears up, and, through the parting clouds, the 
 moon 
 
 
SEPTEMBER. 171 
 
 Shoots forth, o'er tower and tree, a silvery beam. 
 Such interval the prudent husbandman 
 Will eager seize, and by the pallid light, 
 Though oft obscured by slowly passing clouds, 
 Will urge the reaping task, nor will desist, 
 Though on the eve, before the hallowed morn, 
 The brightening change begin ; at such a time, 
 No law of God forbids the needful toil 
 To be protracted, till the fading orb, 
 And morning's bird, proclaim the day-spring nigh. 
 Then let your labour cease, and let not man 
 Determine rashly when to disregard 
 That heavenly precept, merciful, benign, 
 Keep holy to the Lord the seventh day. 
 On this blest day the weary reaper rests 
 In thankfulness of heart : see far retired, 
 Behind a shadowing shock, yon little groupe 
 Of strangers on the ground, and in their hands, 
 
172 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 In tongue unknown in lowland plain, the Word 
 
 Of Life ! 1 O grand emprize ! O generous boon ! 
 
 That little book to Scotia's farthest isles, 
 
 In each low cottage, comfort speaks, and peace : 
 
 Even to the hapless exile, as he lifts 
 
 His eldest born, and, weeping, bids him take 
 
 A last look of the fast-receding shore, 
 
 It consolation speaks, pointing his view 
 
 To that blest country whence they'll ne'er depart ! 
 
 Soon as, by drying power of sun and wind, 
 Your crop is ready for the stack or barn, 
 One hour delay not ; every other work 
 Defer, and, cheery, o'er the ridges drive 
 The high-piled wains; then back, with quickened 
 
 pace, 
 Return, and lighter load of smiling elves, 
 
 1 The translation of the Bible into the Gaelic language. 
 
SEPTEMBER. 173 
 
 Whose purple cheeks the bramble vintage dyes : 
 Haste, quick reload, and back, and back again, 
 The journey short repeat, till all your fields 
 Are to the stubble cleared, and gradual rise 
 The cheerful pyramids. 
 
 On transverse boughs 
 Construct them with due care, for thus you guard 
 'Gainst earthy damps, and thus the pilfering mouse 
 More rarely will intrude, than when your sheaves 
 Are laid in contact with the burrowed soil. 
 Against this evil let the screeching owl, 
 A sacred bird be held ; protect her nest, 
 Whether in neighbouring crag, within the reach 
 Of venturous boy, it hang, or in the rent 
 Of some old echoing tower, where her sad plaint 
 The live-long night she moans, save when she 
 skims, 
 
174 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Prowling, along the ground, or, through your barn, 
 Her nightly rounds performs ; unwelcome guest ! 
 Whose meteor-eyes shoot horror through the dark, 
 And numb the tiny revellers with dread. 
 
 Of forms the circular is most approved, 
 As offering, in proportion to its bulk, 
 The smallest surface to the storm's assault. 
 To turn the driving rain, the outer sheaves, 
 With bottoms lower than the rustling tops, 
 Should sloping lie. When to the crowning sheaf 
 Arrived, distrust the sky ) the thatch lay on, 
 And bind with strawy coils. O pleasant sight ! 
 These lozenzed ropes that, at the tapering top, 
 End in a wisp-wound pinnacle, a gladsome perch, 
 On which already sits poor Robin, proud, 
 And sweetly sings a song, to Harvest Home ! 
 
r 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 1? , 
 
 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 hlythe 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 ribbons, blue and pink, 
 
 * Harvest-home. 
 
*76 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Bound round their braided hair, the lasses trip 
 To grace the feast, which now is smoaking 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. 
 
 
SEPTEMBER. 177 
 
 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 partners 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 gauntrees 2 oft return, 
 Where gossips sit, unmindful of the dance. 
 Salubrious beverage ! Were thy sterling worth 
 
 i 
 
 Beakers. 
 
 Wooden frames on which beer casks are set. — Johnson. 
 
 z 
 
178 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 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. 
 
 As merrily, in many a lowland vale, 
 These annual revels fill, with simple glee, 
 The husbandman, and cottar, man and child ; — 
 Far on their homeward way, the Highland bands 
 Approach the mountain range, the bound sublime 
 Of Scotia's beauteous plains, while gleams of joy, 
 Not tearless, tint each face : As when the clouds, 
 That lowr along those steeps, slowly ascend, 
 And whiten, as they upward flit, in flakes 
 
SEPTEMBER. 179 
 
 Still thin and thinner spreading, till, at last, 
 Each lofty summit gleams, each torrent-fall 
 Reflects the radiance of the setting sun. 
 And now, upon the way-worn traveller s ear, 
 The much-loved language, in his native glen, 
 Seems music sweet : — what joy ! scarce more he 
 
 feels 
 When, in the lowly thatch his sickle hung, 
 He clasps his children to his throbbing heart. 
 
 How pleasant came thy rushing, silver Tweed ! 
 Upon my ear, when, after roaming long 
 In southern plains, I've reached thy lovely bank ! 
 How bright, renowned Sark ! thy little stream, 
 Like ray of columned light chacing a shower, 
 Would cross my homeward path ; how sweet the 
 sound, 
 
180 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 When I, to hear the Doric tongue's reply, 
 Would ask thy well-known name ! 
 
 And must I leave, 
 Dear land, thy bonny braes, thy dales, 
 Each haunted by its wizard stream, o'erhung 
 With all the varied charms of bush and tree ; 
 Thy towering hills, the lineaments sublime, 
 Unchanged, of Nature's face, which wont to fill 
 The eye of Wallace, as he, musing, planned 
 The grand emprize of setting Scotland free ! 
 And must I leave the friends of youthful years, 
 And mould my heart anew, to take the stamp 
 Of foreign friendships, in a foreign land, 
 And learn to love the music of strange tongues ! — 
 Yes, I may love the music of strange tongues, 
 And mould my heart anew, to take the stamp 
 
 7 
 
SEPTEMBER. 181 
 
 Of foreign friendships, in a foreign land : — 
 But, to my parched mouth's roof, cleave this 
 
 tongue ; 
 My fancy fade into the yellow leaf; 
 And this oft-pausing heart forget to throb, 
 If, Scotland ! thee and thine I e'er forget. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 October. 
 
 'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap, 
 And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap ; 
 Potatoe bings are snugged upfrae skaith 
 Of coming Winters biting frosty breath. 
 
 Burns. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Appearance of this month — Prognostic of early frost — Turning 
 up potatoes with the plough — Best mode of storing them — 
 Wheat sowing — Steeping of seed — Tendency to disease in man 
 and animals at this season — Defects in horses now most easily 
 seen — Hints for choosing a work-horse — Hints for breaking 
 young horses — Season for planting — Error of planting firs by 
 way of nurses to other species of trees — Woods of pine — Their 
 deformity — Misapplication of ground to fir plantations, where 
 deciduous trees would thrive — The different soils and situations 
 most suitable to the different species- of trees — Various tints of 
 different trees during this month — Nutting — Halloween, 
 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 October* 
 
 r air shines the sun, but with a meekened smile 
 
 Regretful, on the variegated woods 
 
 And glittering streams, where floats the hazel spray, 
 
 The yellow leaf, or rowan's ruby bunch. 
 
 Hushed are the groves ; each woodland pipe is 
 
 mute, 
 Save when the redbreast mourns the falling leaf. 
 How plaintively, in interrupted trills, 
 He sings the dirge of the departing year ! 
 Of various plume and chirp, the flocking birds 
 
 A. 2 
 
186 BRITISH GEORGICS 
 
 Alight on hedge or bush, where, late concealed, 
 Their nests now hang apparent to the view. 
 
 If, 'mid the tassels of the leafless ash, 
 A fieldfare flock alight, for early frosts 
 Prepare, and timely save the precious root, 
 Before the penetrating power has reached 
 The unseen stores. If, planted in fair rows, 
 They marshalled grew, the plough will best per- 
 form 
 The reaping task : amid the tumbling soil, 
 The vegetable mine, exposed to view, 
 The gatherers' basket fills. 
 
 Some, to secure 
 From possibility of frost's access, 
 Dig pits, and there throw in the gathered crop : 
 A mode unwise ; for thus, if water gain 
 
 13 
 
OCTOBER. 187 
 
 Admittance to the store, there it collects, 
 And to itself assimilates the whole. 
 Exclusion of the atmosphere is gained, 
 As well by heaping* earth above the roots, 
 As by interring them. Chuse, then, a spot 
 The driest of the field, and on the surface pile 
 A heap pyramidal, bedded on straw. 
 Let not the bulk be great, lest pressure bruise 
 The under-layers ; and do not grudge the toil 
 Of subdivision into many heaps. 
 In thickness let the covering cone be more 
 Than what the strict necessity requires, 
 And loosely laid, save at the surface, smooth 
 And flattened down. 
 
 How ceaseless is the round 
 Of rural labour ! Soon as on the field 
 The withered haulms and suckers crackling blaze. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 And, with their far-extending volumes, load 
 The wings of Autumn's latest lingering breeze, 
 The wheaten seed-time all your care demands : 
 Delay not, then, but watchful seize the tide, 1 
 That, ere begins the frost's severer sway, 
 Hostile to vegetation's earliest stage, 
 The fibres may have time, shooting around, 
 To penetrate, and fasten in the soil. 
 
 In briny pickle strong, some drench the grain, 
 And from the surface scum the worthless part. 
 When thus prepared, with lusty even growth 
 The embryons sprout ; and, while all nature droops, 
 The bladed ridges, robed in tender green, 
 Rcvi of Spring. 
 
 e, except in composition 
 .. ~*v.«, o,o noontide. 
 
OCTOBER. 189 
 
 While still the ambiguous season, unconfirmed, 
 Retains some summer signs, yet more displays 
 Of Winter's near approach, man, bird, and beast, 
 Begin to droop, as if the waning year 
 Some strange malignant influence had dispensed. 
 Chief in the horse, each weakness, hurt, or flaw, 
 Which genial summer food, and genial warmth, 
 Will oft conceal, appears, nor can elude 
 Even eyes unskilled. Now is the buyer s time 
 To seek the crowded fair. A slow survey 
 First take of all the rows : examine well, 
 In his quiescent state, the horse that hits 
 Your roaming eye : mark if one foot he points, 
 Unfailing sign of lameness : mark his eyes, 
 If slumberous or alert : till well surveyed, 
 Forbear your hands, for, handling, you arouse 
 The sluggish into spirit not their own. 
 Of signs of strength, the least deceitful are, 
 
190 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 A neck of muscle, which, when sideward turned., 
 Seems like a cable coil of some great ship, 
 And under it a breast jutting and broad, 
 Knurled like the trunk of ancient oak or elm ; 
 Short pastern joints ; full hoofs, and deep withal 
 Of sable hue ; a waist compact and round ; 
 Round haunch ; high shoulder ; head not large, 
 With eyes full-orbed. For temper watch his head, 
 And, if he greet your gently-stroking hand 
 With ears laid backward, and projecting snout, 
 Proceed elsewhere, and make another choice. 
 
 If on a horse untrained to load or draught 
 Your choice should fall, — by lenient, soothing 
 
 means, 
 Tame, not subdue, his spirit to the yoke. 
 At first, a lightly-loaded sack, to mill 
 Or market, let him bear, and often stroke 
 
OCTOBER. 191 
 
 His trembling neck, and cheer him with your voice. 
 Let not the lash, or stern command, alarm 
 His startled ear ; but gently lead him on. — 
 O think how short the time, since, joyous free, 
 He roamed the mead, or, by his mother's side, 
 Attended plough or harrow, scampering gay ; 
 And think how soon his years of youth and strength 
 Will fly, and leave him to that wretched doom 
 Which ever terminates the horse's life, — 
 Toil more and more severe, as age, decay, 
 Disease, unnerve his limbs, till, sinking faint 
 Upon the road, the brutal stroke resounds. 
 
 When, on the rustling pathway of the grove, 
 Falling from branch to branch, the frequent leaf 
 Gently alights, and whispers as it falls, 
 How short, how fleeting, is the life of man ! 
 Then is the planting season ; then the sap 
 
192 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Has ceased to circulate ; and while the power 
 Of vegetation slumbering lies, the change r 
 From the warm fostering spot, where first the plant 
 Put forth its leaf, remains unfelt, till Spring, 
 By slow degrees, awake the vital spark, 
 And, with a whispering zephyr, gently breathe 
 O'er swelling bud and slowly-spreading leaf, 
 A sweet oblivion of its infant couch. 
 
 Some mingle, with the fair leaf-bearing trees, 
 The bristled piny tribes ; and, by a word 
 Misled, believe that thus they nurse the plants. 
 But mark the progress : — rapid is the growth 
 Of all the race of pines ; soon they o'ertop, 
 O'erspread, and, like some nurses, overlay, 
 And choak their tender charge ; or, if betimes 
 They're thinned, still with their taller growth they 
 shade, 
 
OCTOBEB. 193 
 
 From light and heat, the lower-spreading kinds ; 
 And thus, surrounded by a sable ring 
 Of firs, as in a pit, lurks the poor oak, 
 Beholding but the zenith of the sky. 
 What tree ere throve doomed to perpetual shade ? 
 Is warmth superfluous to the youngling plant ? 
 Does not the genial sunbeam of the Spring 
 Gladden, with kindly influence, bud and spray ? — 
 To break the blast, not to exclude the air, 
 And light, and heat, be that your aim, an end 
 That's best attained by other obvious means 
 Than mingling pines as nurses to your groves. 
 Draw them in rows along the bounding line ; 
 And, in proportion to the planted space, 
 And different degrees of slope and height, 
 Let other piny rows athwart be drawn. 
 
 2 B 
 
194. BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Not satisfied with using firs to screen 
 The leafy tribes, improvers some there are, 
 Enamoured of deformity and gloom, 
 Who strangely deem they beautify the land 
 By planting woods of pine, or sable belts, 
 Like funeral processions, long drawn out. 
 But not the eye alone these woeful groves 
 Offend : no cheerful rustle, like the trees 
 With smiling foliage clothed, give they ; 
 A rushing sound moans through their waving 
 
 boughs, 
 Grateful to him alone whose sorrow is past hope. 
 
 Nor is it only on the barren moor, 
 Or mountain bleak, these northern hordes intrude ; 
 No, they usurp the warm and sheltered glen, 
 Supplant the levelled bank of greenwood trees, 
 And, with their poisonous drop, the primrose wan, 
 
OCTOBER. 195 
 
 The purple violet, the columbine, 
 
 And all the lowly children of the vale, 
 
 Both flower and flowering underwood, destroy. 
 
 Idolaters of piny groves maintain, 
 That no where else, when fair deciduous trees 
 Their foliage lose, does verdure cheer the eye. 
 Verdure ! O word abused ! does that dark range, 
 Dingy and sullen, sable as the cloud 
 That low'rs on Winter s brow, deserve the name 
 Of verdure ? — lovely hue ! that makes yon field 
 Of wheaten braird smile cheerful mid the gloom 
 Of Autumn's close, and threats of muttering storms. 
 To eyes unprejudiced by Fashion's law, 
 More pleasing far the leafless forest scene, 
 Whether beneath the storm it undulate 
 A deep-empurpled sea, or tranquil rest 
 
IQ6 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 In moveless beauty, while the frosty power 
 Adorns each spray and twig with fleecy plumes. 
 
 Let lovers of the forest first consult 
 The nature of the ground . A moist abode 
 Best suits the willow tribes, yet will they thrive 
 In any soil. The alder, too, prefers 
 A station dank ; chiefly the river side 
 It loves to haunt, down to the very brink, 
 Rooted oft-times beneath the gliding stream, 
 While round each tree a kindred bush upsprings. 
 In moist, not swampy soils, the elm delights : 
 No tree bears transplantation like the elm ; 
 With sure success the elm may be removed, 
 Even when the twentieth spring draws forth the 
 
 buds. 
 No scanty foliage, no decaying twigs, 
 
OCTOBER. 197 
 
 Betoken signs of change : clinging to life, 
 
 An elm-tree stake puts forth young shoots, and 
 
 spreads 
 Its verdant foliage in the gap it fills. 
 The dry hill- side, though sterile be the mould, 
 Delights the beechen tree. In every soil, 
 Or warm or cold, or moist or dry, the birch 
 Will rear its smooth and glossy stem, and spread 
 Its odoriferous foliage. Loamy moulds 
 Best suit the ash ; yet will it thrive in all, 
 Save in stiff clays, or in the oozy swamp. 
 The monarch of the woods delights in plains 
 And valley sides, nor shuns the mountain's brow ; 
 Regardless of the storm, the oak's vast limbs 
 Stretch equal all around, and scorn the blast : 
 So, when transformed into the floating towers, 
 That bear Britannia's thunder o'er the deep, 
 Heaved on the mountain billows, they defy 
 
398 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The elemental war, the battle's strife, 
 
 And proudly quell the storm of flood and fire. 
 
 But fitter far such themes for him who sung 
 
 Ye Mariners of England ! in a strain 
 
 More grand, inspired, than e'er from Grecian lyre 
 
 Or Roman flowed, — that bard of soul sublime, 
 
 Who, in prophetic vision, dared to light 
 
 The torch of Hope at Nature's funeral pile ! 
 
 Meeter for me, amid the rustling leaves, 
 To trace the woodland path, and mark the tints 
 So varied, yet harmonious, that adorn 
 The trees retentive of their summer robes : — 
 The beech of orange hue; the oak embrowned; 
 The yellow elm ; the sycamore so red ; 
 The alder's verdure deep, of all the trees 
 The latest to disrobe ; the hazle, hung 
 With russet clusters : — hark ! that crashing branch, 
 
OCTOBER. 199 
 
 As to the maid he loves, the clambering youth 
 Down weighs the husky store ; while others catch, 
 With hooked rods, the highest slender sprays, 
 And bend them to some upward stretching hand, 
 Or shake the ripened shower, and, dexterous, 
 
 twitch, 
 From the fair bosom's shield, the blushing prize. 
 One climbs the precipice's crag, and stretches, 
 Dizzying the gazer s eye, in dread attempt, 
 His arm, to reach some richly-clustered branch; 
 And though he's foiled, perhaps a trembling voice, 
 And upturned eye, with eager clasping hands, 
 Make disappointment sweet, and first confess 
 A mutual flame which oft the tongue denied. 
 
 And now they bear the woodland harvest home., 
 And store it up for blythesome Hallowe'en, 
 A night of mirth and glee to old and young. 
 
 JO 
 
200 BRITISH GEORG1CS. 
 
 With the first star that twinkles in the east, 
 From house to house, joyous, the schoolboys bear 
 Their new-pulled stocks, while, 'mid the curled 
 
 blades, 
 A few dim candles in derision shine 
 Of Romish rites, now happily forgot. 
 As each goes out, the bearer homeward hies, 
 And 'twixt the lintel and the thatch, lays up 
 The well singed emblem of his future mate. 
 Then round the fire, full many a cottage ring 
 Cheerful convenes, to burn the boding nuts. 
 Some lovingly, in mutual flames, consume, 
 Till, wasting into embers grey, (sign of long life 
 Together spent,) they cause sometimes the event 
 Believed to be foretold ; some, when thrown in, 
 Exploding, bound away, as if they spurned 
 Their proffered partner. Marion to the wood, 
 Thus slighted, hied, from rowan-tree two-stemmed,, 
 
OCTOBER. 201 
 
 A sprig to pull : with quaking heart she passed 
 The gloomy firs, the lightning-shivered oak, 
 The ruined mill, all silent 'neath the moon. 
 Oft did she pause, and once she would have turned, 
 As cross her path the startled howlet flew, 
 Sailing along, but, from an aged thorn, 
 The stock-dove faintly coo'd beside his mate ; — 
 Forward she sped, and with the dear-won prize, 
 Breathless, returned, nor waited long, till, lo, 
 A sister-spray adorned her true-love's breast. 
 And now, by turns, the laughing circle strives, 
 Plunging, to catch the floating fruit, that still 
 Eludes the attempt ; nor is the triple spell 
 Of dishes, ranged to cheat the groping hand, 
 Forgot, nor aught of all the various sports 
 Which hoar tradition hands from age to age. 
 
 2 C 
 

 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Jiobember, 
 
 While tumbling, brown, the burn comes down, 
 
 And roars frae bank to brae ; 
 And bird and beast in covert rest, 
 
 And pass the heartless day. 
 
 Burns. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Early arrival of the woodcock a prognostic of an early and severe 
 winter — Grass-fields to be saved from poaching at this season — 
 Ploughing of old leas — Care of the. team — Turnip-fields staked 
 off for sheep — An adjoining grass-field necessary for sheep dur- 
 ing the night — A serene night — A hazy night — Various ap- 
 pearances of Will-a-Wisp — Night-scene at sea in tropical re- 
 gions — Cottage-fireside — Serene morning — Hoar-frost — Wither- 
 ed aspect of sward, except at fountain brinks and rills — Hence 
 the idea of irrigation— The means of irrigation very general in 
 Britain— Sketches of this mode of improvement. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 While wind and rain drive through the half- 
 stripped trees, 
 Fanners and flails go merrily in the barn. 
 Each brook and river sweeps along deep tinged, 
 While down the glen, louder and quicker, sounds 
 The busy mill-clack. On the woodland paths 
 No more the leaves rustle, but matted lie, 
 All drenched and soiled ; the foliage of the oak, 
 Blent with the lowliest leaves that decked the brier., 
 Or creeping bramble, mouldering to decay. 
 
206 x BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Oft at this season, near an oozy spring, 
 Overhung by alder boughs, the woodcock haunts ; 
 (Sure harbinger, when thus so early come, 
 Of early winter tedious and severe) 
 There he imbibes his watery food ; till, scared 
 By man and dog, upward, on pinion strong, 
 He springs, and o'er the summits of the grove, 
 Flies far, unless, flashing, the quick-aimed tube 
 Arrest his flight, and bring him lifeless down, 
 With his long bleeding bill sunk in the marsh. 
 
 From hawless thorn to brier, the chirping flocks 
 Flit shivering, while, behind yon naked hedge, 
 Drooping, the cattle stand, waiting the hour 
 When to the shed or stall they shall return. 
 
 Ye who, on Spring's return, a smooth thick 
 sward 
 
NOVEMBER. 207 
 
 Upon your fields would see, must spare them now. 
 
 At sunny intervals, you may indulge 
 
 Your prisoned herd to pick the withering blade, 
 
 And the fresh breeze inhale, or to the bank 
 
 Of the swollen river wend, to quench their thirst. 
 
 But if your soil be clay, let not a hoof 
 
 E'er cross your fields, save when the frosty power 
 
 Has hardened them against the poaching hoof. 
 
 Old leas may now be ploughed, though on the 
 
 plough 
 Patters the hail shower, whitening all the ridge. 
 But loose betimes, and through the shallow pond 
 Drive the tired team ; then bed them snug and 
 
 warm ; 
 And with no stinting hand their toil reward. 
 Assiduous care the waning year requires, 
 For then all animated nature tends 
 
208 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 To sickliness and death. Much it imports 
 To cleanse each hoof and pastern ; but beware 
 Of clipping close the fetlock, robbing thus 
 The fretted skin of Nature's simple fence 
 Against the contact of the encrusting soil. 
 
 While on the turnip field, in portions due 
 Staked off, the bleating flock their juicy meal, 
 Nibbling, partake, let not their nightly lair 
 Be on the mould ; but give them free access 
 To some adjoining field, where, on the sward, 
 A drier bed shortens the winter night. 
 
 Oft, after boisterous days, the rack glides off, 
 And night serene succeeds, cloudless and calm, 
 Unrolling all the glories of the sky. 
 Who would regret the shortened winter day, 
 
 Which shrouds, in light, that spectacle sublime ! 
 
 11 
 
NOVEMBER. 209 
 
 Who would regret the summer landscape's charm ! 
 
 O bounteous night ! to every eye that rolls, — 
 
 Whether retired in rural solitudes, 
 
 Or to thronged cities, or to desert shores 
 
 Exiled, — thou spread' st that sight superb, 
 
 And through the hopeless heart shoot'st gleams of 
 
 Thou shew'st to weary man his glorious home. 
 
 As on that happy eve, when peals of peace 
 
 (Ah, short-lived peace !) rang through Britannia's 
 
 realms, 
 The homeward veteran, as he weary gained 
 Some mountain brow, beheld, far through the 
 
 gloom, 
 
 His native city all one blaze of light ; 
 
 Joy filled his eyes with tears, joy nerved his limbs, 
 
 That now, at last, to all whom he held dear, 
 
 He should return, and never more depart. 
 
 2 d 
 
£10 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Sometimes November nights are thick bedimmed 
 
 With hazy vapours, floating o'er the ground, 
 
 Or veiling from the view the starry host. 
 
 At such a time, on plashy mead or fen 
 
 A faintish light is seen, by southern swains 
 
 Called Will-a-Wisp : Sometimes, from rushy bush 
 
 To bush it leaps, or, cross a little rill, 
 
 Dances from side to side in winding race; 
 
 Sometimes, with stationary blaze, it gilds 
 
 The heifer's horns ; or plays upon the mane 
 
 Of farmer's horse returning from the fair, 
 
 And lights him on his way ; yet often proves 
 
 A treacherous guide, misleading from the path 
 
 To faithless bogs, and solid-seeming ways. 
 
 Sometimes it haunts the church-yard ; up and down 
 
 The tomb-stone's spiky rail streaming, it shews 
 
 Faint glimpses of the rustic sculptor's art, — 
 
 8 
 
NOVEMBER. 211 
 
 Time's scythe and hour-glass, and the grinning 
 
 skull, 
 And bones transverse, which, at an hour like this, 
 To him, who, passing, casts athwart the wall 
 A fearful glance, speak with a warning knell. — 
 Sometimes to the lone traveller it displays 
 The murderer's gibbet, and his tattered garb, 
 As lambently along the links it gleams. 
 
 While harmlessly, in northern regions, play 
 These fires phosphoric, in the tropic climes 
 The midnight hours are horribly illumed 
 With sheeted lightning; bright the expanding flame 
 Reddens the boiling ocean wave, and clear 
 Displays the topmast cordage, where on high 
 The ship-boy, trembling, hands the gleaming ropes; 
 While at the helm, appalled, the steersman scans 
 
212 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 The reeling compass, or, despairing, sees 
 
 The shivered mast ; or, in his eyes, receives 
 
 The searing flash, and rolls the extinguished orbs, 
 
 And wishes, but in vain, that once again 
 
 He could behold the horrors of the storm. 
 
 Even such a man I've seen by cottage fire, 
 Relating to the child, that on his knee 
 Played with his visage sorrowful, yet mild, 
 The wonders of the deep, while busy wheels 
 And distaffs stop, and every ear and eye 
 Drinks in the dreadful tale, and many a tear 
 Is shed by her whose truelove ploughs the main. 
 Then homebred histories but sport appear : — 
 Some tell how witches, circling mossy cairns, 
 Far o'er the heath, dance till the moon arise, 
 Or on the martyr's stone their horrid feast 
 Set out, in dead men's skulls for dishes ranged. 
 
NOVEMBER. 213 
 
 Perhaps the fairy gambols are the theme, — 
 
 How hand in hand, around the broomy knowe, 
 
 Beneath the silver moon, they featly trip : 
 
 Or, by some roofless mill, their revels hold 
 
 Upon the millstone lying on the green ; 
 
 Or o'er the filmy ice (to their light steps 
 
 A floor of adamant) thrid through the dance, 
 
 With shadowy heel to heel reflected clear, — 
 
 Till, harsh, the tower-perched howlet screech a note 
 
 Discordant with aerial minstrelsy, 
 
 Or o'er the moon a cloud begins to float, 
 
 Then, with the flying beam, before the shade, 
 
 In gleamy dance, they shoot o'er hill and dale. 
 
 Amid Novembers gloom, a morn serene 
 Will sometimes intervene, o'er cottage roof, 
 And grassy blade, spreading the hoarfrost bright, 
 That crackles crisp when marked by early foot ; 
 
214 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 But soon, beneath the sun-beam, melts away 
 The beauteous crustwork, leaving the blanched 
 
 sward 
 Hung, as with dew-drops on a summer s morn. 
 Alas, the impearled sward no summer tint 
 Displays ; withered it lies, or faintly tinged 
 With sickly verdure, save by fountain brink, 
 Or margin of some slowly flowing rill : 
 There, through the Winter's cold and Summer's 
 
 heat, 
 A vivid verdure winds, in contrast marked 
 With Nature's faded charms, like fresh festoons 
 Of summer-flowers on waning Beauty's brow. 
 In spots like these, the last of Autumn's flowers 
 Droop, lingering; there the earliest snow-drop 
 
 peeps. 
 Hence Irrigation's power at first was learnt, 
 A custom ancient, yet but rarely used 
 
NOVEMBER. 215 
 
 In cold and watery climes ; though even there 
 No mode of melioration has been found 
 Of more effect, or with more ease obtained. 
 
 Through various regions of Britannia's isle, 
 In every field are found abundant means 
 Of irrigation : every brawling brook, 
 Or tinkling runnel, offers copious draughts 
 Of watery nutriment, the food of plants. 
 But only then 'tis useful, when the land 
 Is dry by nature, art, or seasons fair ; 
 And chiefly when in herbage for the scythe, 
 Or browsing lip. 
 
 A free and porous soil 
 Upon a gravelly bed, at all times drinks, 
 Yet ne'er is quenched. — Who owns a soil Kke this, 
 If through his fields a little mountain-stream, 
 
216 BRITISH GEOHGICS. 
 
 Not sunk in channel deep, but murmuring down 
 'Tween gently-sloping banks, a mine of wealth 
 Possesses in that stream : A dam, half stone 
 Half turf, athwart he rears, then from each side, 
 Along his fields he slanting conduits draws, 
 Which, with a flow scarce visible, supply 
 The smaller branches, till o'er all his leas, 
 And meadows green, he, in a summer day, 
 Spreads the whole stream, leaving the channel 
 
 bare,— 
 Save at some little pools, where, lurking, lie 
 The fearful trouts, that from the schoolboy s hand 
 Seek refuge vain, neath stones or shelving rock. 
 
 Nor is it only in the sultry months 
 He leads the freshening fertilizing lymph. 
 Even in this humid month he overflows 
 The withering grass, but soon again withdraws 
 
NOVEMBER. £17 
 
 The streams prolific : deep the verdure sprouts 
 In close luxuriance ; daisies bud anew, 
 And to the sloping wintry beam half ope 
 Their crimson-tinted flow'rets, closing soon ; 
 For soon they, shrinking, feel 'tis not the breath 
 Of early Spring, that woos them to unfold. 
 
 In grounds, by art laid dry, the aqueous bane 
 That marred the wholesome herbs, is turned to use ; 
 And drains, while drawing noxious moisture off, 
 Serve also to diffuse a due supply. 
 
 Some soils of clay, obdurately compact, 
 Foil every effort of the draining art. 
 Deluged in weeping seasons, they retain 
 The falling floods ; each furrow is a pool. 
 There irrigation serves no useful end, 
 
 2 E 
 
218 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Unless in summer drouths, and, at such times, 
 
 No land more needs the irrigating aid. 
 
 For clay, though ranked among the humid soils, 
 
 Is in itself the driest of them all : 
 
 The cloud-descended water it retains, 
 
 But yet excludes, and on the surface bears ; 
 
 Which soon, as by the fervid summer beam 
 
 Exhaled, leaves the unmoistened soil to cling 
 
 Around each root, and yawn with many a cleft. 
 
 Some level fields, through all the winter months, 
 Are covered warmly with a watery sheet : 
 Here a rich sward upshoots of lively green, 
 Till stopt by contact with its icy roof ; 
 And, when at last, upon a sunny morn, 
 While vernal breezes curl the smooth expanse, 
 The liquid veil withdraws, — a reeking mist 
 
NOVEMBER. £19 
 
 Mantles the plain, till Zephyr gently sweep 
 The rolling wreaths away, unfolding wide 
 A verdant carpet broider'd o'er with flowers. 
 

BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Becember. 
 
 " The sweeping blast, the sky o'er-cast" 
 
 The joyless Winter day, 
 Let others fear, to me more dear 
 
 Than all the pride of May. 
 
 Burns. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Wind and sleet — A cottage in ruins — Whirlwinds — Secure thatch 
 of stacks and house- — Snow— Recommendation to strew food for 
 birds — Their use to the farmer in destroying insects— -The red- 
 breast — The sun appearing faintly through clouds — The labourer 
 — His home employments during the day — His cheerful f reside 
 — A contrast — Country [ deserted by those who possessed the 
 power of mitigating the hardships of the peasant's lot — Resort 
 to towns — Dissipation — A rout — The theatre — A concert — Su- 
 perior enjoyment of those who observe the good old hospitality of 
 Christmas in the country — Hoggmanay-— Various customs — A 
 midnight storm — Dawn— Conclusion. 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Becember. 
 
 Xjoud raves the blast, and, snell, the sleety showers 
 Drive over hill and dale with hurrying sweep. 
 The leafless boughs all to one point are bent, 
 And the lithe beech-tops horizontal stream, 
 Like shivered pennon from some dipping mast. 
 Dismal the wind howls through yon thatchless roof, 
 The cottage skeleton, from whence exiled, 
 The inmates pine in some dark city lane, 
 Thinking of that dear desolated home, 
 
224 BRITISH GEORGICS, 
 
 Where many a summer sun they saw go down ; 
 
 Where many a winter night, around the fire, 
 
 They heard the storm rave o'er the lowly roof. 
 
 Forlorn it stands. Ah, who is he that views 
 
 The ruin drear, still wandering round and round, 
 
 With doubting aspect, yet with watery eye ! 
 
 Fain would he disbelieve it is the place 
 
 Where he, in innocence and humble peace, 
 
 His infancy and youth had happy spent, 
 
 Till, lured away, he left his parents sad, 
 
 And sought the sea, anticipating oft 
 
 His glad return to aid their downward years : 
 
 And now returned, with expectation full, 
 
 To greet each kinsman's gladdened face, and share 
 
 His hard- won treasure with the friends he loved, 
 
 And visit all his boyish haunts, he finds, instead, 
 
 All desolate : in speechless gaze, awhile 
 
 ii 
 
DECEMBER. QQS 
 
 He stands, then turns in agony and weeps, 
 In bitterness of soul, — as when a bird, 
 A roaming gone for food to feed her young, 
 Returning to the well-known bush, beholds 
 A mossy tuft, where once had hung her nest, — 
 Drooping, she perches on her wonted spray, 
 Then, in a plaintive strain, repeated oft, 
 Monotonous, laments her piteous lot. 
 
 On brier and thorn, some straggling hips' and 
 haws 
 Still linger, while, behind the leafless hedge 
 Cowring, the sheep stand fixed in rueful gaze. 
 Oft now, a whirlwind, eddying down the vale, 
 Uncovers stacks, or on the cottage roof 
 Seizing amain, sweeps many a wisp aloft, 
 High vanishing amid the hurrying clouds. 
 
 2 F 
 
226 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 At such a time, oft to your stackyard look, 
 And smooth the slightest ruffling of the thatch, 
 Binding it firmly down with added coils. 
 To guard your roof against the furrowing gust. 
 The harrows, till a calmer hour arrive, 
 Fencing the weaker parts, will save the whole. 
 
 When broadened hovering flakes begin to wheel, 
 And whiten hill and vale, the fowler lays 
 His treacherous lure, and watches till he see 
 The scattered snow raised by some fluttering wing, 
 Then forward darts to seize his captive prey. 
 Strew rather thou the food without the snare ! 
 A little sprinkling saves, from Famine's power, 
 Full many a beauteous songster, whose sweet pipe, 
 In early spring, repays the trifling boon. 
 But songs are not the sole return they make : 
 
 IO 
 
DECEMBER. 227 
 
 » 
 
 Foes of the insect race through every change, — 
 The embryotic egg, in bark or leaf 
 Deposited ; the maggot, chrysalis, 
 And winged bane, they ceaselessly destroy. 
 
 Of all the feathered tribes, that flock around 
 The house or barn for shelter and for food, 
 The redbreast chiefly, — sweetest trustful bird, — 
 Demands protection from the coming storm. 
 Your open window then with crumbs bestrew, 
 Inviting entrance ; — soon he'll venture in 
 And hop around, nor fear at last to perch 
 Upon the distaff of the humming wheel, 
 Cheering with summer songs the winter day. 
 
 At times the fall abates, and low, through clouds, 
 The struggling sun his dim and shapeless disk 
 
928 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Faintly displays, wan as a watery moon, 
 And almost tempts the labourer to his task. 
 But, when he sees the transient beam withdrawn, 
 He shuts again his door, and turns his hand 
 To home employment, — mending now a hive, 
 With bark of brier darned pliant through the 
 
 seams ; 
 Or, looking forward through the wintry gloom 
 To summer days, and meadows newly mown, 
 Repairs his toothless rake ; or feeds his bees ; 
 Or drives a nail into his studded shoon ; 
 Or twists a wisp, and winds the spiral steps 
 Around the henroost ladder ; deeply fixed, 
 Meanwhile, his children quit their play, and stand 
 With look enquiring, and enquiring tongue, 
 Admiring much his skill. Thus glides the day; 
 Thus glide the evening hours, when laid to rest 
 
 
DECEMBER. 229 
 
 His imps are stilled, and with its deep-toned hum 
 The wool-wheel joins the excluded tempest's howl. 
 Perhaps some neighbour braves the blast, and 
 
 cheers 
 The fire-side ring ; then blaze the added peats, 
 Or moss-dug faggot, brightening roof and wall, 
 And rows of glancing plates that grace the shelves. 
 The jest meanwhile, or story of old times, 
 Goes cheery round ; or, from some well-soiled page, 
 Are read the deeds of heroes, by the light 
 Mayhap of brands, whereon, when greenwood trees 
 Were all their canopy, their armour hung. 
 
 Alas ! in many a cottage no bright blaze 
 Cheers the low roof; but cowring, shivering, round 
 The semblance of a fire, a single peat, 
 Or bunch of gathered sticks, that scarce return 
 
BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 A feeble glimmer to the fanning breath, 
 The inmates, poor, pine the long eve away. 
 Perhaps around the couch of pain they wait, 
 And minister in darkness to the sick ; 
 Or sad, upon a deathbed watching, lean, 
 And only know the parting moment past 
 By the cold lip, the cold and stiffening hand. 
 
 Ah me ! the rural vale deserted lies, 
 By those who hold the power to mitigate 
 The hardships of the peasant's humble lot, 
 To cities fled, they listless haunt the rounds 
 Of dissipation, falsely pleasure called. 
 The crowded route blazes with dazzling glare 
 Of multitudinous lights, a senseless shew, 
 Of insipidity the very shrine. 
 From groupe to groupe behold the trifler range 
 
DECEMBER. 231 
 
 Now listening to the nothings of the fair ; 
 
 Now telling, o'er and o'er, to each new audience, 
 
 Some new intelligence which all have heard, 
 
 Or meagre jest, picked from the very crumbs 
 
 And scraps he gathered at some witling's board : 
 
 Or mark his counterpart, the languid maid, 
 
 Affecting apathy beyond that share 
 
 Which Nature, with no stinted hand, bestowed. 
 
 Another, sensitive all o > er, would shrink, 
 
 Or seem to shrink, from view, yet is attired, — 
 
 Like flower in hoar-frost veiled, whose every leaf, 
 
 And every tiny fold, and bosom fair, 
 
 Is obvious to the eye, though hid its hue. 
 
 See some o'erlook the hushed divan, who stake 
 A village on the turning of a card. 
 
232 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Or does the crowded theatre precede 
 These midnight orgies ? there, too, Folly rules, 
 And crowns her votaries with ephemeral bays, — 
 While far apart, the Tragic Muse, inspired 
 By Shakespeare's spirit, speaking from a cloud 
 Of thunder, meditates her lofty theme, 
 And awes, or melts, by turns, a listening world. 
 
 Perhaps the feast of music draws the crowd, 
 Who, glutted even to surfeit, still with praise, 
 With yawning admiration, daub the man, 
 That, with bold fingers, gloriously ascends 
 Three straw-breadths higher, on the tortured string, 
 Than his compeers, and thence extracts 
 A squeak, a little squeak, that much delights, — 
 Because less grating than most other squeaks. 
 
DECEMBER. 233 
 
 Such are the scenes which roh the wintry months 
 Of those, whom duty, interest, pleasure, call 
 A country life to lead. How far surpass 
 The pleasures which the few, who still observe 
 The good old customs of the Christmas tide ; 
 Who see their halls with happy faces thronged, 
 The rich, the poor, the old and young, all joined 
 In social harmony, — how far surpass 
 Their pleasures, those extracted from the round 
 Of city life, from various sameness, dull 
 Laborious merriment, and all the salves, 
 The antidotes against the bane of Time ! 
 
 Of all the festive nights which customs old, 
 And waning fast, have made the poor man's own, 
 The merriest of them all is Hoggmanay. 
 Then from each cottage window, 'mid the gloom, 
 
 2 G 
 
234 BRITISH GE0RGICS. 
 
 A brighter ray shoots through the falling flakes, — 
 
 And glimmering lanterns gleam, like Will-a-Wisp 
 
 Athwart the fields, or, mounting over stiles, 
 
 Evanish suddenly : no dread is now 
 
 Of walking wraith, or witch, or cantrip fell ; 
 
 For Superstition's self this night assumes 
 
 A smiling aspect, and a fearless mien, 
 
 And tardy Prudence slips the leash from Joy. 
 
 To meeting lovers now no hill is steep, 
 
 No river fordless, and no forest dark ; 
 
 And when they meet, unheeded sweeps the blast, 
 
 Unfelt the snow, as erst from summer thorn, 
 
 Around them fell a shower of fading flowers, 
 
 Shook by the sighing of the evening breeze. 
 
 With smutted visages, from house to house, 
 In country and in town, the guisarts range, 
 
DECEMBER. 235 
 
 And sing their madrigals, though coarse and rude, 
 With willing glee that penetrates the heart. 
 O ! it delights my heart, that unstained joy 
 Of thoughtless boyhood. Spurn you from my 
 
 door !--- 
 No, no, rush freely in, and share my fire, 
 And sing through all your roll of jovial lilts. 
 
 But older folks their chairs and stools draw in 
 Around the fire, and form a circle blythe. 
 With riddles quaint, and tricks, and ancient tales, 
 They pass the time, while oft the reaming horn, 
 From hand to hand passed round, arrests midway 
 The story-teller in his long-spun tale, — 
 Which, not thus baulked, he soon again resumes, 
 And interweaves full many an episode. 
 
 The temperate banquet done, their several homes 
 
236 BRITISH GE0RC1CS. 
 
 Timely they seek, resolved, ere morning dawn, 
 With smoking pints, to greet friends, lovers, kin. 
 
 Some blyther bevies, till the midnight hour, 
 Around the cheerful board their mirth protract, 
 To drink a welcome to the good new year ; 
 Then crossing arms, with hands enlinked all round, 
 All voices join in some old song, and full 
 The tide of friendly harmony o'erflows ! 
 
 December, all thy aspects have their charm ; 
 The sky o'ercast, the sweeping rack, the calm 
 And cloudless day, when reeling midges warp 
 In sunny nook ; yea, even the raving storm. 
 
 I love the music of the midnight storm, 
 When wild, careering, drive the winds and rains, 
 
DECEMBER. £37 
 
 And loud and louder, through the sounding grove, 
 The Spirit of the Tempest seems to howl, 
 And loud and louder beats the furious blast, 
 As if some giant hand, with doubling strokes, 
 Struck the strong wall, and shook it to its base. 
 Awful the mustering pause, when all is hushed 
 Save the fierce river's roar ! How cheering now 
 And heartening, sounds the crow of Morning's 
 
 bird ! 
 How deep the darkness ! save when sudden gleams 
 Dazzle the eye, that ventures to explore 
 The awful secrets of the solemn hour. 
 
 Gradual the storm abates, and welcome peeps 
 The long-expected dawn, gloomy at first, 
 But tinging by degrees, with copper hue, 
 The slowly flying clouds. Most pleasant hour 
 
238 BRITISH GEORGICS. 
 
 Of daybreak ! at all seasons fraught with gladness, 
 Whether the sun in summer splendour rise, 
 Hailed by a thousand choristers on wing 
 Suspended high, or perched on dewy bough ; 
 Or whether, through the wintry lowring sky, 
 He shoots his watery beam far from the south, — 
 Thou makest the heart of all that lives expand, 
 Man, bird, and beast, with joy ; but chiefly man, 
 As looking with complacent eye around, 
 On this grand frame of things slowly illumed, 
 He worships, not in words, but heavenward 
 
 thoughts, 
 Submiss and lowly, that vast power which launched, 
 Impels this mighty mass, and guides it round, — 
 True to its annual and diurnal course ; — 
 Stupendous miracle ! — this mighty mass 
 Hurled loose, through realms immense of trackless 
 space, 
 
DECEMBER. 239 
 
 With speed, compared to which the viewless ball, 
 
 Projected from the cannon's mouth, but creeps 
 
 At a snail's pace, yet without shock or pause, 
 
 Or deviation infinitely small, 
 
 Rolling along, with motion unperceived, 
 
 As if it moveless lay on Ether's tide. 
 
 
NOTES. 
 
 2 H 
 


 NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 Note I. 
 •Thy various voice. 
 
 That to the heart, with eloquence divine, §c. — P. 4. 
 " O, mysterious Night ! 
 
 " Thou art not silent; many tongues hast thou." 
 
 Joanna Baillie. 
 
 Note II. 
 -the first-foot' s entering step. — P. 5. 
 
 " It is supposed that the welfare and prosperity of every 
 family, especially the fair part of it, depend very much upon 
 the character of the person who is first admitted into the 
 house on the beginning of the new year. Hence every sus- 
 pected person is carefully excluded ; and the lasses gene- 
 rally engage beforehand some favoured youth, who willing- 
 ly comes, happy in being honoured with that signal mark of 
 female distinction." — Notes to Nicol's Poems, penes Ja- 
 mieson's Dictionary. 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 •The steaming faggon, borne 
 
 From house to house. — P. 5. 
 
 This is called a het-pint, " a hot-beverage, which it is cus- 
 tomary for young people to carry with them from house to 
 house on new-year's eve, or early in the morning of the new 
 year." — Jamie son's Diet. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 A hedge full grown, if with a hedge now joined, 
 Or circling belt, the climate of your field 
 Improves, transmutes from bleak and shivering cold 
 To genial warmth. — P. 8. 
 
 " In a mountainous country, and in bleak- moorish situa- 
 tions, nothing tends more to encrease the value of the soil, 
 than plantations properly distributed. They give shelter 
 both to the cattle and to the corn crops ; and by prevent- 
 ing the warmth which is produced by proper manures, and 
 by the germination of vegetables, from being dissipated, 
 they give effect to all the efforts of industry. Accordingly, 
 in such situations, plantations are no sooner reared, than 
 the whole face of the country round them assumes an im- 
 proving aspect, and displays a richer verdure. When sud- 
 denly cut down, in consequence of the necessities of an im- 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 245 
 
 provident proprietor, the reverse of all this occurs. Vege- 
 tation is chilled by the piercing blasts which now meet with 
 no resistance, and the cattle droop from want of shelter ; so 
 that in a few years the place can scarcely be known." — 
 Forsyth, vol. ii. p. 365. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 ■ For there a vivid green 
 
 Tinges your early sward, there lingers long. — P. 8. 
 
 Shelter not only makes the grass spring early, and return 
 its verdure late, and thus produces an additional quantity of 
 food for cattle ; but it also makes less food necessary. No- 
 thing whets the appetite so much as cold ; and one reason 
 is, that an additional stimulus is necessary to keep up the 
 animal heat. Hence a cow or a horse, exposed on a bleak 
 lea to every wind that blows, will eat twice as much food as 
 one whose pasture range is well protected by trees or hedges ; 
 and yet the effect of this additional quantity of nourishment 
 will not be perceptible in fattening the animal. The addi- 
 tional stimulus, and the vital energy which that stimulus 
 excites, are partly expended in producing a quite different 
 effect, viz. preserving the animal from the cold. In the same 
 way, a plant or tree, growing in an exposed situation, will 
 be slow of growth and stunted, compared to others of the 
 same species planted in a soil of the same quality, but pro- 
 tected from the winds. 
 
246 NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 But hedges and plantations ought not to be viewed as 
 merely local improvements* of this or that particular proper- 
 ty. It is obvious, that when they are general over the face 
 of a country, that country must be less injured by high winds 
 than an open one. What is the violence of the wind owing 
 to at sea, or on the sea-shore, when the wind blows from the 
 sea, or on the top of a mountain, but to the want of- obsta- 
 cles presenting repeated checks to its violence? When free 
 of such obstacles, vires acquirit eundo. 
 
 Note VI 
 
 List not to him, who says that sheltered fields 
 Suffer from lack of air, §c — P. 10. 
 
 There is, no doubt, a degree in which shelter may be in- 
 jurious. In a flat low country, if small fields be surrounded 
 with hedge-rows, grain crops will be injured by the want of 
 a free circulation of air. At the same time, there is often 
 more of fancy than sound reason in the apprehension, that 
 hedge-rows are on the whole hurtful. Shelter merely pro- 
 duces an artificial calm ; that is, it retards the current of the 
 air ; but while it retards, it certainly never can stop the cur- 
 rent. Neither can it prevent, what is of more consequence 
 to the health of animal as well as vegetable life, the imper- 
 ceptible change of one stratum of the atmosphere with ano- 
 ther. This is constantly going on by the ascent of the lower 
 and warmer strata, and the descent of the higher and colder. 
 I have often wondered, how the air, in the heart of so ex- 
 tensive a city as. London, continued at all fit for respiration 
 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 247 
 
 during hot, calm, summer weather ; but the constant inter- 
 change between the lower and higher regions of the air ac- 
 counts for this. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 Then see their nightly lair be warm and clean. — P. 17. 
 
 According to Johnson, lair signifies " the couch of a boar, 
 or wild-beast." He is evidently under a mistake in giving 
 the word this limited signification ; and into this mistake he 
 seems to have been led by his conjectural etymology, viz. 
 that the word is derived from lai, a French word signifying 
 a sow or a forest ; whereas the word is evidently formed from 
 the preterite lay of the verb to lie. The very authority which 
 Johnson quotes is in direct opposition to the idea, that the 
 word signifies exclusively the couch of a wild-beast. 
 
 " — thy care must now proceed 
 
 To teeming females and the promised breed ; 
 First let them run at large, and never know 
 The taming yoke, or draw the crooked plough : 
 Let them not leap the ditch, or swim the flood ; 
 Or lumber o'er the meads ; or cross the wood : 
 But range the forest, by the silver side 
 Of some cool stream, where Nature shall provide 
 Green grass and fattening clover for their fare ; 
 And mossy caverns for their noon-tide lair." 
 
 Dkyden's Geor. iii. 1. 225. 233. 
 
 In another passage, the word lair is explicitly used to de- 
 note the couch of domestic animals within doors. 
 
\ 
 
 248 NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 " Next, let thy goats officiously be nursed, 
 And led to living streams, to quench their thirst. 
 Feed them with winter browze, and, for their lair, 
 A cote, that opens to the south, prepare." 
 
 . Geor. iii. 1. 473. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 -Nor is it wasteful care 
 
 For thus, 'gainst Spring's return, fycr— P. V(. 
 
 " As to litter, it is an object of such importance, that pro- 
 vision for the system should be gradually made through the 
 winter, if corn enough be not left for summer-threshing to 
 supply the beasts. All wheat-stubbles should be cut and 
 stacked ; leaves, in woodland countries, should be collect- 
 ed ; fern procured from commons and warrens ; rushes and 
 aquatic weeds stored from fens, &c. ; and, if nothing else 
 can be had, heaps of sand formed for this use ; for which 
 peat also is excellent. An enterprising, vigilant farmer, 
 when he has such an object as this in view, will exert every 
 nerve to be prepared for a system, the profit of which will 
 depend so much on the care previously taken to be well 
 provided with litter of some sort or other." — Young's Far- 
 mer's Calendar, May. 
 
 The management of litter in the dunghill is often very ab- 
 surd. It is well known, that, without moisture, straw will 
 remain in the state of straw for a very long time. Now, 
 many farmers, by way of having a very neat dunghill, build 
 it up like a stack. I have seen some of these dung-stacks 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 249 
 
 ten feet in height. The consequence is, that the little mois- 
 ture which the litter has brought with it from the stable, 
 soon sinks to the bottom, or evaporates. From such dung- 
 hills the farmer may be rather said to thatch than to manure 
 his fields. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 Scared from her reedy citadel, the swan, fyc. — P. 23. 
 
 The beautiful loch of Duddingston has for several ages 
 been the habitation of swans. That their settlement there 
 is not of very recent date, there is the following curious piece 
 of evidence. " March 6. 1688. At privy-council, the Du- 
 chess of Lauderdale pursues Sir James Dick of Priestfield 
 for a riot, in so far as she having taken out of Duddingston 
 loch five of the swans, which, or their parents, were put in 
 by her lord ; he took them back again except two ; for 
 which he broke up doors, which no constable, by the act of 
 parliament 166 1, is allowed to do. 2do, He could not sibi 
 jus dicere. — Alledged, The swans were his own, he standing 
 infeft in the loch, and consequently in all that fed on it; 
 and though they were fera, natural, yet they were like wild 
 beasts inclosed in his park, or fish in his ponds ; and though 
 the first were put in by the Duke of Lauderdale, yet the 
 product was Sir James's. The Lords of Privy-Council found, 
 If they had come of their own accord, and bigged (built) 
 there, that they were Sir James's ; but since the owner who 
 put them in was known, they found they belonged to the 
 Duchess ; and that Sir James's tolerance to let them stay in 
 
 2 I 
 
250 NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 his loch, did not make them his. Upon which he turned 
 all the rest out of his loch. But Duke Hamilton alleging, 
 that the loch bounded with the King's-park, and so belongs 
 ed to him, he pat them in again ; and thus took possession, 
 in the king's name, of the loch ; which will cost Sir James a 
 declarator of property to clear his right/'-- Fount a inh all's 
 Decisions, vol. i. p. 501. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 -The long-expected tryst, 
 
 To play their yearly bonspiel. — P. 23. 
 
 a 
 
 Bonspel, a match at the diversion of curling on the ice, 
 between two opposite parishes." — Jamieson's Diet. 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 Dear to the peasant's heart his fireside blaze, 
 
 And floor new swept, to greet his glad return. — P. 26. 
 
 *' At e'en, when he comes weary frae the hill, 
 I'll ha'e a' things made ready to his will : 
 In winter, when he toils through wind and rain, 
 A bleezing ingle and a clean hearth-stane. 
 As soon as he flings by his plaid and staff, 
 The seething-pot's be ready to tak' aff." — 
 
 Gentle Shephekb. 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 20| 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 And shakes the frame, when Fawdon's ghost appears, — P. 27. 
 
 The increasing loudness of the horn, that preceded the 
 approach of Fawdon's ghost, is well imagined and well de- 
 scribed : 
 
 ** When that allayne Wallace was levit there, 
 The awful blast aboundit meikle mair." 
 
 History of Sir William Wallace, book v. 1. 1 87. 
 
 The history of Wallace by Henry, commonly called Blind 
 Harry, is a standard book in the small collection of the Scot- 
 tish peasant. Of this book Burns, in a short sketch which 
 he gives of his early years, addressed to Dr Moore, thus ex- 
 presses himself : " The story of Wallace poured a Scottish 
 prejudice into my veins, which will boil along there, till the 
 flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest." I have no doubt 
 that many of the noblest strains of Scotia's lyre, as well as 
 the most splendid achievements of her warriors, have had 
 their origin in the lay of this ancient minstrel. 
 
 Note XIII. 
 
 This is no tale which fabling poet dreams. — P. 27. 
 For the general truth of the picture which I have drawn, 
 
252 NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 I appeal to the excellent remarks on the peasantry of Scot- 
 land, with which Dr Currie has prefaced his Life of Bums. 
 He there says, " A slight acquaintance with the peasantry 
 of Scotland will serve to convince an unprejudiced observer, 
 that they possess a degree of intelligence not generally found 
 among the same class of men in the other countries of Eu- 
 rope. In the very humblest condition of the Scottish pea- 
 sants every one can read, and most persons are more or less 
 skilled in writing and arithmetic ; and under the disguise of 
 their uncouth appearance, and of their peculiar manners 
 and dialect, a stranger will discover that they possess a cu- 
 riosity, and have obtained a degree of information, corre- 
 sponding to these acquirements. 
 
 " These advantages they owe to the legal provision made 
 by the parliament of Scotland, in 1646, for the establishment 
 of a school in every parish throughout the kingdom, for the 
 express purpose of educating the poor ; a law which may 
 challenge comparison with any act of legislation to be found; 
 in the records of history, whether we consider the wisdom 
 of the ends in view, the simplicity of the means employed, 
 or the provisions made to render these means effectual to 
 their purpose. This excellent statute was repealed on the 
 accession of Charles II. in 1660, together with all the other 
 laws passed during the commonwealth, as not being sanc- 
 tioned by the royal assent. It slept during the reigns of 
 Charles and James, but was re-enacted, precisely in the 
 same terms, by the Scottish parliament, after the revolution 
 in 1696. ; and this is the last provision on the subject/' 
 
 In the opinion which immediately follows, viz. that the 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 253 
 
 effects of parish schools " may be considered to have com- 
 menced about the period of the Union," I think Dr Currie 
 is under a mistake. The institution itself commenced in 
 the year 1616, under the authority of an act of privy coun- 
 cil ; that regulation was enacted into a law in the year 
 1633 ; and though the mode provided for the execution of 
 the law was not the most efficient, the inclination of the 
 country coincided so completely with the views of the legi- 
 slature, that parish-schools were soon very generally esta- 
 blished throughout the Lowlands of Scotland. The act 
 1646, too, which contains the very provisions that were the 
 law of the land till very lately, was in full force and observ- 
 ance for fourteen years previous to the Restoration ; and so 
 powerfully had it, and the previous act of parliament 1633, 
 and act of privy council 1616, operated on the general dif- 
 fusion of instruction, that in the Lowlands, soon after the 
 Restoration, there were very few persons of mature years 
 who could not read. This fact is noticed by Woddrow, a 
 writer of unquestionable veracity. I have looked for the 
 passage without being able to find it. My recollection 
 of it, however, is distinct to the extent I have mentioned ; 
 and I think that writing is stated as having been also a very 
 general accomplishment. 
 
25i NOTES ON JANUARY. 
 
 Note XIV. 
 Deny the right of Englishmen to read. — P. 29« 
 
 It is perfectly plain, that without the institution of parish 
 schoolmasters, supported partly, as in Scotland, at the ex- 
 pence of the public, a great proportion of the children of 
 the lower classes of the people of England must, for want of 
 the means of instruction, remain unable to read. I am far 
 from asserting, that the plan of public instruction lately of- 
 fered to parliament, by an able, an upright, and indepen- 
 dent senator, was a perfect one. It was thought to be far 
 too complicated in its details. The bill, however, was re- 
 sisted on the general principle, that the populace ought not 
 to receive school-education from the public ; and, what is 
 most strange, this resistance was made (if newspaper reports 
 are to be depended on,) by a member whose benevolence is 
 well known, and whose commanding talents have, in one 
 eminent instance, been exerted in behalf of a numerous and 
 most meritorious body of the people. I allude to the act of 
 parliament introducing enlistment for limited service, — a sta- 
 tute which, while it is admirably contrived for improving 
 the safe efficiency of the vast machine of our national de- 
 fence, is (at least was) of more essential importance to the 
 rights and liberties of the commons at large, as well as of 
 the army itself, than any law that has been enacted for half 
 a century. 
 
NOTES ON JANUARY. 255 
 
 It may not be improper here to mention, that the earnest 
 desire of the people of England to avail themselves of op- 
 portunities of instruction, as well as the miserable deficiency 
 of such opportunities, is most strikingly illustrated by a cir- 
 cumstance that sometimes occurs, when detachments of 
 English regiments are quartered in the small towns and vil- 
 lages of Scotland. It is then not uncommon to see (and a 
 deeply interesting sight it is) the men, with their side-arms, 
 sitting on the same forms, or at the same desks, with chil- 
 dren, learning to read and write. 
 
 Some persons consider the general diffusion of a little 
 learning as chiefly useful in enabling men to raise them- 
 selves above the condition in which they were born. so 
 far agree with this opinion, as to think that a general diffu- 
 sion of learning gives genius a fair start, which otherwise it 
 might not have. But I think the chief advantage of that 
 state of knowledge which exists in Scotland, is the happiness 
 which it tends to confer on men being and remaining in 
 those spheres in which they were born and bred. 
 
 . In the estimation of some persons, " The great mass of 
 the people are as so many teeth in the wheels of a piece of 
 machinery, of no further value than as they serve to facili- 
 tate its movements." — Mrs Hamilton. 
 
 
NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 -The sunny side 
 
 Of gentle slope is first to be preferred. 
 
 -there the Sun. 
 
 Great fertilizer ! on the fallow mould 
 
 Strikes powerfully, when at his summer height, 
 
 With perpendicular ray. — P. 37. 
 
 The fertilizing influence of the sunbeams must be pecu- 
 liarly powerful on a soil that has never been exposed to it. 
 Now that influence is smaller or greater in proportion as 
 the rays strike the surface at an angle more or less acute; 
 that is, the influence is greater in proportion as the line of 
 the ray approaches to perpendicularity with respect to the 
 surface shone upon. Hence the surface of a declivity to 
 the south, and the lower stratum of the atmosphere cover- 
 ing that declivity, are often in a state of genial warmth, 
 while a declivity to the north, or even a plain, feels the in- 
 fluence of frost. In a winter day, a southward slope, if the 
 
NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 2.57 
 
 rise be not very gentle, absorbs more of the sun's heat than 
 a plain surface at midsummer. The different effects of the 
 sun, according to the lying of the soil, is no where so obvi- 
 ous as on molehills during a hard frost, the sunny side being 
 often completely thawed, while the other is as hard as stone. 
 — It does not follow from this, that a slope to the sun is the 
 best situation for every crop. In such situations, sown 
 grass, red clover especially, or any other delicate plant, 
 will be apt, in the spring months, to be injured by the vio- 
 lence of the transition from the degree of heat which they 
 enjoy during the day to the pinching cold of the night. 
 They will also be apt to come forward prematurely. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 First draw a single furrow up and down, 
 Then turning, fyc. P. 37. 
 
 This compendious mode of laying land dry, and exposing 
 it completely to the influence of the sun and the air, is* with 
 a little variation, the invention of my friend Mr John Mac- 
 kenzie, merchant in Glasgow, a man whose originality of ge- 
 nius has been much and successfully exercised on agricul- 
 tural subjects. 
 
258 NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 The compost pile examine now and turn. — P. 43. 
 
 Lord Meadowbank's short treatise on manures contains 
 the most simple, the most satisfactory, the most concise, 
 and, at the same time, the most complete exposition of the 
 theory and practice of manure that ever I read. His direc- 
 tions as to the management of composts, and particularly of 
 peat composts, ought to be read and studied by every far- 
 mer. They are too long for insertion here ; but I conceive 
 that, by quoting some of the general facts, or rather remarks, 
 with which his Lordship prefaces his directions on the sub- 
 ject of peat moss, I shall confer a favour on the reader, as 
 the pamphlet itself is not to be had in the shops. 
 
 1. " All recently dead animal or vegetable matter, if suf- 
 ficiently divided, moist, and not chilled nearly to freezing, 
 tends spontaneously to undergo changes, that bring it at 
 length to be a fat greasy earth, which, when mixed with 
 sands, clays, and a little chalk or pounded limestone, forms 
 what is called rich loam, or garden mould. 
 
 2. " In vegetable matter, when amassed in quantities, 
 these changes are at first attended with very considerable 
 heat, (sometimes proceeding the length of inflammation,) 
 which, when not exceeding blood-heat, greatly favours and 
 quickens the changes, both in animal matter, and the fur- 
 
 i 
 
NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 259 
 
 ther changes in vegetable matter, that are not sensibly at- 
 tended with the production of heat. The changes attended 
 with heat, are said to happen by a fermentation, named, 
 from what is observed in making of ale, wine, or vinegar. 
 The latter are ascribed to what is called putrefactive fermen- 
 tation. 
 
 3. " Besides moderate moisture and heat, and that divi- 
 sion of parts which admits the air in a certain degree, cir- 
 cumstances which seem to be necessary to the production 
 of these changes, stirring, or mechanical mixture, favours 
 them ; and a similar effect arises from the addition of chalk, 
 pounded limestone, lime, rubbish of old buildings, or burnt 
 lime brought back to its natural state ; and also of ashes of 
 burnt coal, peat, or wood, soap-leys, soot, sea-shells, and 
 sea-ware. And, on pressure or consolidation, excluding air; 
 by much water, especially when below the heat of a pool in 
 summer; by astringents, and by caustic substances, as 
 quicklime, acids, and pure alkalies, at least till their caus- 
 ticity is mollified, at the expence of the destruction of part 
 of the animal and vegetable matter to which they are 
 added. 
 
 4. " These changes are accomplished by the separation 
 or decomposition of the parts or ingredients of which the 
 dead vegetables and animals are composed ; by the escape 
 of somewhat of their substance in the form of vapours or 
 gasses ; by the imbibing also of somewhat from water and 
 from the atmosphere ; and by the formation of compound 
 matters, from the reunion of parts or ingredients, which had 
 been separated by the powers of the living vegetables and 
 
260 NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 
 
 animals. The earlier changes, and in general those which 
 take place previous to the destruction of the adhesion and 
 texture of the dead vegetables and animals, appear to be 
 rather pernicious than favourable to the growth of living ve- 
 getables, exposed to the direct effect of them ; whereas the 
 changes subsequent to the destruction of the animal and ve- 
 getable texture, promote powerfully the growth of plants, and, 
 partly by their immediate efficacy on the plants exposed to 
 their influence, partly by the alterations they produce in the 
 soil, constitute what is to be considered as enriching ma- 
 nure. 
 
 5. " It should be the object of the farmer to give his soil 
 the full benefit of these latter changes, decompositions, and 
 recom positions, which proceed slowly, and continue to go 
 on for years after the manure is lodged in the soil. Even 
 loam or garden mould is still undergoing some remaining 
 changes of the same sort ; and, by frequently stirring it, or 
 removing it, and using it as a top-dressing, its spontaneous 
 changes are so favoured, that it. will yield heavy crops for a 
 time without fresh manure ; or, in other words, it is rendered 
 in so far a manure itself, as it decomposes faster than its or- 
 dinary and more stationary state, and, in so doing, nourishes 
 vegetables more abundantly, or forms new combinations in 
 the adjoining soil, that enable it to do so/' " It should also 
 be the object of the farmer, to employ the more early chan- 
 ges, not only to bring forward the substances undergoing 
 them into a proper state to be committed to the soil, but to 
 accelerate or retard them, so as to have his manure ready 
 for use at the proper seasons, with as little loss as possible, 
 
NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 261 
 
 from part being too much and part too little decomposed ; 
 and also to avail himself of the activity of those changes, 
 to restore to a state of sufficiently rapid spontaneous decom- 
 position, such substances in his farm, as, though in a state 
 of decay, had become so stationary as to be unfit for ma- 
 nure, without the aid of heat and mixture. 
 
 " By attention to the two first particulars, and the proper 
 use of compression, stirring and mixture, the farm dung- 
 hill, though formed slowly, and of materials in very various 
 states of decay, is brought forward in nearly the same con- 
 dition. By attention to the latter, manure may, in most si- 
 tuations in Scotland, be tripled or quadrupled ; et ftnum est 
 aurum. On the other hand, by inattention to them, part of 
 the manure is put into the soil unprepared, that is, in a si- 
 tuation where the texture of the vegetable is still entire ; 
 and, its decomposition never having been carried far by the 
 heat and mixture of a fermenting mass, proceeds in the soil 
 so slowly, that, like ploughed-down stubble, it does not me- 
 rit the name of manure. Part, again, is apt to be too much 
 rotted ; that is, much of it is too nearly approaching to the 
 state of garden mould, whereby much benefit is lost, by the 
 escape of what had been separated during the process it has 
 undergone, and the good effects in the soil of what remains 
 are less durable ; for, between solution in water, and rapid 
 decomposition, from its advanced state of rottenness, it is 
 soon reduced to that of garden mould ; and, in fine, the 
 powers of fermenting vegetable with animal matter, which, 
 when properly employed, are certainly most efficacious 
 in converting into manure many substances that are other- 
 
262 NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 
 
 wise very stationary, and slow in their decomposition, are 
 lost to the farmer; so that he is often reduced to adopt an 
 imperfect and little profitable mode of cultivation, from the 
 want of the manure requisite for a better, though such ma- 
 nure may be lying in abundance within his reach, but use- 
 less, from his ignorance how to prepare it." 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 -And toss around the heaps, 
 
 O'er all the surface equally dispread. — P. 43. 
 
 To separate manure into minute parts, and mix it equal- 
 ly, is as necessary to its complete and wholesome effect, as 
 the mastication of food is to the process of digestion. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 The larger harrow, called by t some the brake. — P. 44. 
 
 " The necessity of some instrument, more effectual than 
 the common harrow, for reducing a stubborn soil, has led 
 farmers to put three or four harrows, one above another, in 
 order to press the undermost into the ground. This substi- 
 tute to the brake is far inferior in its effect ; beside that the 
 undermost harrow is torn to pieces in an instant. To con- 
 clude this article, a farmer, who has no brake, wants a capi- 
 
NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 263 
 
 tal instrument of husbandry. Its price above that of com- 
 mon harrows, bears no proportion to the profit/' 
 
 Lord Kames's Gentleman Farmer. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Nor is there found a crop that yields increase 
 More sure, abundant, and at smaller charge, 
 Than does the willow grove. — P. 45. 
 
 " It is now a proper time to plant osiers and other sorts 
 of willows. No part of the farmers business pays better 
 than such plantations, and especially if he has any low, 
 spongy, boggy bottoms near a stream. The land should be 
 formed by spadework into beds, six, eight, or ten feet broad, 
 by narrow ditches ; and if there is a power of keeping wa- 
 ter in these cuts at pleasure by a sluice, it is in some sea- 
 sons very advantageous to do so."— Young's Farmer's Ca- 
 lendar, February. 
 
NOTES ON MARCH. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 The broad-leaved plants whose product is their root, 
 
 They least exhaust ; and next the legume tribes, fyc. — P. 57. 
 
 The following remarks by Lord Karnes on the effects of 
 different crops, contain a very distinct and philosophical 
 exposition of the principles on which the practice of rota- 
 tion of crops depends. 
 
 " Culmiferous plants, having small leaves and few in 
 number, depend mostly on the soil for nourishment, and lit- 
 tle on the air. During the ripening of the seed, they draw 
 probably their whole nourishment from the soil ; as the 
 leaves by this time, being dry and withered, must have lost 
 their power of drawing nourishment from the air. Now, as 
 culmiferous plants are chiefly cultivated for their seed, and 
 are not cut down till the seed be fully ripe, they may be pro- 
 nounced all of them to be robbers, some more some less. 
 But such plants, while young, are all leaves ; and in that 
 state draw most of their nourishment from the air. Hence 
 
NOTES ON MARCH. i'65 
 
 it is, that where cut green for food to cattle, a culmiferous 
 crop is far from being a robber. A hay crop accordingly, 
 even where it consists mostly of rye-grass, is not a robber, 
 provided it be cut before the seed is formed ; which at any 
 rale it ought to be, if one would have hay in perfection. 
 And the foggage, excluding frost by covering the ground, 
 keeps the roots warm. A leguminous plant, by its broad 
 leaves, draws much of its nourishment from the air. A cab- 
 bage, which has very broad leaves, and a multitude of them, 
 owes its growth more to the air than to the soil. One fact 
 is certain, that a cabbage cut and hung up in a damp place, 
 preserves its verdure longer than other plants. At the same 
 time, a seed is that part of a plant which requires the most 
 nourishment ; and for that nourishment a culmiferous plant 
 must be indebted entirely to the soil. A leguminous crop, 
 on the contrary, when cut green for food, must be very gen- 
 tle to the ground. Pease and beans are leguminous plants ; 
 but being cultivated for seed, they seem to occupy a middle 
 station : their seed makes them more severe than other le- 
 guminous crops cut green : their leaves, which grow till 
 reaping, make them less severe, than a culmiferous plant 
 left to ripen. 
 
 " These plants are distinguished no less remarkably by 
 the following circumstance : — All the seeds of a culmiferous 
 plant ripen at the same time. As soon as they begin to 
 form, the plant becomes stationary, the leaves wither, the 
 roots cease to push, and the plant, when cut down, is blanch- 
 ed and sapless. The seeds of a leguminous plant are form- 
 ed successively : flowers and fruit appear at the same time 
 
 2 L 
 
266 NOTES ON MAECH, 
 
 f 
 
 in different parts of the plant. This plant accordingly is 
 continually growing, and pushing its roots. Hence the va- 
 lue of bean or pease straw above that of wheat or oats : the 
 latter is withered and dry when the crop is cut ; the former, 
 green and succulent. The difference, therefore, with re- 
 spect to the soil, between a culmiferous and leguminous 
 crop, is great. The latter growing till cut down, keeps the 
 ground in constant motion, and leaves it to the plough loose 
 and mellow. The former gives over growing long before 
 reaping, and the ground, by want of motion, turns compact 
 and hard. Nor is this all. Dew falling on a culmiferous 
 crop, after the ground begins to harden, rests on the surface, 
 and is sucked up by the next sun. Dew that falls on a legu- 
 minous crop is shaded from the sun by the broad leaves, and 
 sinks at leisure into the ground. The ground accordingly, 
 after a culmiferous crop, is not only hard but dry • after a 
 leguminous crop, it is not only loose, but soft and unctu- 
 ous." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Bulbous-rooted plants are, above all, successful in di- 
 viding and pulverizing the soil. Potatoe-roots grow six, 
 eight, or ten inches under the surface ; and, by their size 
 and number, they divide and pulverise the soil better than 
 can be done by the plough ; consequently, whatever be the 
 natural colour of the soil, it is black when a potatoe crop 
 is taken up. The potatoe, however, with respect to its qua- 
 lity of dividing the soil, must yield to a carrot or parsnip ; 
 which are large roots, and pierce often to the depth of eigh- 
 teen inches. The turnip, by its tap-root, divides the soil 
 
NOTES ON MARCH. 267 
 
 more than can be done by a fibrous-rooted plant ; but as its 
 bulbous root grows mostly above ground, it divides the soil 
 less than the potatoe, the carrot, or the parsnip. Red clo- 
 ver, in that respect, may be put in the same class with tur- 
 nip." 
 
 Note II. 
 
 •Then pare the turf, 
 
 And lay it loosely up, in hollow heaps, 
 Triangular ; next kindle each, till far 
 The smoky clouds, Sj-c. P. 61. 
 
 " The practice of burning the surface, and applying the 
 ashes as manure to the soil that remains, has been long pre- 
 valent in Britain ; and though it has been condemned, nay 
 reprobated, by many chemical writers, and prohibited in 
 numerous instances by proprietors, yet, by professional peo- 
 ple, who judged upon the utility of the practice, according 
 to the nature and consequences of the after-effects, it has, 
 almost in every case, been supported, and considered as the 
 most advantageous way of bringing in and improving all 
 soils, where the surface carried a coarse sward, and was 
 composed of peat-earth, or other inactive substances. The 
 burning of this surface has been viewed as the best way of 
 bringing such soils into action ; the ashes, furnished by the 
 burning, serving as a stimulant to raise up their dormant 
 powers, thereby rendering them fertile and productive in a 
 
268 NOTES ON MARCH. 
 
 superior degree, than otherwise could possibly be accom- 
 plished. 
 
 '* These have been the sentiments of husbandmen for 
 many generations, and are not to be overturned by the force 
 of abstract reasoning, however plausibly and forcibly urged. 
 Were a field to be burned, and the ashes thereby produced 
 to be removed to another, the objections of chemists would 
 be well founded ; but so long as these ashes are spread upon 
 the surface, and an effect produced upon the remainder of 
 the soil and subsoil, equal, if not superior to that occasioned 
 by calcareous manure, no evil is to be dreaded. The soil, 
 in place of being thinned by the burning, is, in fact, thick- 
 ened ; because a portion of the subsoil is impregnated and 
 brought into action, whereby the staple is deepened, and its 
 productive powers increased. It must be remarked, how- 
 ever, that as the effects of burnt ashes, though instantane- 
 ous, are not of long duration, a dressing of dung, in the 
 third year, becomes highly necessary ; after which, land so 
 treated should be restored to grass. The great object to be 
 attended to, when stimulants are employed, is to use gentle 
 and lenient cropping afterwards ; otherwise, what with jus- 
 tice might have been considered as a meritorious improve- 
 ment, may turn out to deserve a contrary character/' — Mr 
 Biiown of-Markle, Editor of the Farmer's Magazine. Vid. 
 Edinb. Encycl. art. Agriculture, sect. vi. 
 
NOTES ON" MARCH. 2W 
 
 Note III. 
 
 And xsohat more fitting form at once to hold 
 
 The kindled fuel, and apply the heat, 
 
 Than one well known, — the rolling cylinder. — P. 63. 
 
 I am convinced that the benefit derived from paring and 
 burning, or from the combustion of substances, such as 
 straw, brought and laid upon the surface, does not consist 
 merely in the conversion of the substances so burnt into ma- 
 nures, but consists partly in the heat imparted to the soil. 
 Where the operation of paring and burning cannot be per- 
 formed, as in lands already under tillage, a very great de- 
 gree of heat may be applied in the manner which I have 
 attempted to point out. An iron cylinder of two feet and a 
 half diameter would hold a cart of coals. It might be so 
 divided into compartments, that the coals would not be 
 broken down by shifting round. A number of holes in the 
 sides (not in the circumference) would be sufficient for sup- 
 plying the fire with air ; and these holes might be so con- 
 trived, that any number of them might be shut or opened, so 
 as to diminish or increase the violence of the combustion. 
 A high degree of heat would not answer, as the iron, if red 
 hot, would bend. The iron would need to be kept at that 
 degree of heat which is between blue and red, but more on 
 the blue. Cast iron, on coming in contact with water, would 
 be apt to crack, and hammered iron would be expensive. 
 
270 NOTES OS" MARCH. 
 
 I should think that a cast-iron cylinder, sheathed in ham- 
 mered iron, would do. This may be a visionary project, 
 and may perhaps subject me to ridicule. I state it with no 
 degree of confidence ; I merely throw it out as perhaps not 
 unworthy of trial by those who have opportunities, and who 
 can afford the ex pence of a full and fair experiment. To 
 such as are disposed to treat with ridicule him who ventures 
 to suggest what he conjectures may possibly be of use, I 
 would observe, that such treatment, though in a great pro- 
 portion of cases, as probably in this, it may be fitly enough 
 applied, cannot tend to the advancement of science, which, 
 it is well known, has sometimes derived improvement from 
 the accidental discoveries and observations of persons equal- 
 ly ignorant on chemical subjects, as I, with regret, confess 
 myself to be. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 And downy flowers on river-loving palms.— -P. 65. 
 
 Our excellent Scottish lexicographer, Dr Jamieson, though 
 he generally unites accuracy with ingenuity in his explana- 
 tory and etymylogical disquisitions, has fallen into a mis- 
 take with respect to the meaning of the word palm. Under 
 the article sangh (willow) he notices the word palms, as sig- 
 nifying the flowers of the willow. Now the word, as used 
 in Scotland, signifies the tree itself. This use of the word is 
 certainly an instance of perversion of terms ; and I account 
 
NOTES ON MARCH. 271 
 
 for it in this way : — The willow is one of the trees whose 
 leaves and flowers appear very early in the spring. In 
 times of popery, when the different parts of our Saviour's 
 history were made the subject of processions and shows, the 
 circumstances attending his final entry into Jerusalem were 
 not forgotten ; and, among other circumstances, that of the 
 people going out to meet him with branches of palm trees, 
 (John, ch. xiii. ver. 13.) made part of the ceremony observed 
 on the sixth Sunday after Easter, called Palm-Sunday ; but 
 as palm-trees are not to be had in our northern regions, the 
 tree earliest in leaf and flower was chosen as a substitute. 
 The earliest species of the willow was naturally chosen, and 
 hence it got the name of the palm-tree. In some parts of 
 Scotland, Palm-Sunday has been converted into Palm-Satur- 
 day, when the boys still make processions with branches of 
 palm-trees. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 Therefore by day their gateway-porch enlarge, 
 But still at eve let it be closed secure. — P. 66. 
 
 " In spring I generally shut up the doors of my hives 
 every evening, as soon as the bees are all got in, and open 
 them again next morning ; and I even do this for whole 
 days during that season, when the cold is severe ; as cold 
 wind blowing in at their entries are extremely prejudicial 
 to them, and ought therefore to be prevented with all pos- 
 
272 NOTES ON MARCH. 
 
 sible care. By this simple practice, the bees are kept warm 
 and healthy, which is greatly beneficial to them in breeding. 
 But in following this plan, great caution must be observed, 
 that the bees have no other vent to get out at, as the conse- 
 quences would be fatal " 
 
 ^ *fr <J* 3Pr 'fc *lr 5?? 
 
 " In spring, as the bees gradually increase in numbers, 
 their entry should be gradually widened, lest they be im- 
 peded in their labours ; but this should only be done in pro- 
 portion to the number of bees in a hive. During March 
 and April, they should be very little, as warmness is health 
 
 to bees, and furthers their hatching greatly." 
 
 ******* 
 
 " The method of enlarging or straitening the entries of 
 hives is quite simple. Pieces of wood, all of one size out- 
 wardly, but with holes cut in the under part of them, of the 
 various dimensions above described, might be made and 
 kept ready at all times, to be exchanged with each other, 
 according as the season requires, or the bee-master wishes 
 to widen or to straiten his hives ; but indeed a little plaster 
 lime will straiten or widen an entry in spring and summer, 
 with very little trouble/' — Bonner on Bees. 
 
 To those who cultivate bees, whether for amusement or 
 profit, I would recommend this book, as containing, amid 
 some strange but amiable enthusiasm, a great portion of ac- 
 curate observation and just remark. 
 
NOTES ON MARCH. 273 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 •And when the welkin's warm, 
 
 Nor sudden frost, nor rain will harm your fields. — P. 67. 
 
 The warmth of the lower region of the air is sometimes 
 very deceitful. Often when a westerly wind blows below, 
 in the higher regions a contrary current prevails. It is a 
 common saying among country people, that when the frost 
 taks the lift there will be bad weather. The lift signifies the 
 firmament, or higher parts of the atmosphere. Whenever 
 those parts are in a cold state, whether from the wind blow- 
 ing from a cold quarter, or from any other cause, the flight 
 of the lark is, comparatively speaking, low ; and even ist 
 notes are less full and melodious. 
 
 2 M 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Soon as the earliest swallow skims the mead, 
 The barley sowing is by some begun, — P. 75. 
 
 " Magna fides avium est ; experiamur aves." 
 
 Ov. Fast. lib. iv. 814. 
 
 In choosing the proper times for performing the different 
 operations of husbandry, the farmer's plans ought not to be 
 regulated by the present appearances of the weather ; neither 
 ought they to be regulated by the progress of vegetation in 
 wild plants or trees; for they in general afford no more 
 than evidence of what, oo the whole, the state of the sea- 
 son has hitherto been. On the other hand, the birds of pas- 
 sage undoubtedly possess an instinctive forecast of what is 
 to be the state of the weather. 
 
 The connection, indeed, between the appearance of cer- 
 tain birds, and the future state of the weather, is so striking, 
 that the ancients seem to have derived from these natural 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 275 
 
 prognostications, the whole system on which their auspices 
 pretended to foretel even such events, as could have had no 
 dependance on the appearances of Nature. The superior 
 foresight (so to speak) of birds is easily accounted for. A 
 swallow, for instance, is probably able to traverse Europe 
 in four-and-twenty hours, consequently its determinations 
 to begin or to continue its migrations may easily be the re- 
 sult of observations on the state of the atmosphere, made 
 not in this or that particular district, but in a compass of 
 several hundreds of miles. The appearance, then, of birds 
 of passage, may be considered as affording a surer prognos- 
 tic of the future state of. the weather than the state of vege- 
 tation in plants and trees possibly can ; inasmuch as the 
 range of observation and feeling of birds is extensive, their 
 perceptions exceedingly acute, and their very existence de- 
 pendent upon the state of the season in those countries to 
 which, at particular times, they resort. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 Should in saline infusion drench the seed. — P. 73. 
 
 The practice of steeping seed in different kinds of pickle 
 is as old as the days of Virgil, 
 
 " Semina vide equidem multos medicare serentes, 
 Et nitro prius et nigra perfundere auiurca." 
 
 Geor. I. 1. 193. 
 
 Though indeed, from the line that immediately follows these 
 
276 NOTES ON APRIL. 
 
 two, it would seem that Virgil had no great faith in such 
 preparations, 
 
 " Grandior ut foetus siliquis fallacibus esset." 
 
 Modern experience, however, has proved, beyond a doubt, 
 that the steeping of seed in water strongly impregnated with 
 salt, is often of very great advantage. 
 
 " The last spring (1783) being remarkably dry, I soaked 
 my seed-barley in the black water taken from a reservoir, 
 which constantly receives the draining of my dungheap and 
 stables. As the light corn floated on the top, I skimmed it 
 off, and let the rest stand 24 hours. On taking it from the 
 water, I mixed the seed-grain with a sufficient quantity of 
 sifted wood-ashes, to make it spread regularly, and sowed 
 three fields with it. I began sowing the 16th, and finished 
 the 23d of April. The produce was 60 bushels per acre of 
 good clean barley, without any small or green corn, or weeds 
 at harvest. No person in this country had better grain/' 
 
 " I sowed also several other fields with the same seed dry, 
 and without any preparation ; but the crop, like those of my 
 neighbours, was very poor ; not more than 20 bushels per 
 acre, and much mixed with green corn and weeds when har- 
 vested. I also sowed some of the seed dry on one ridge in 
 each of my former fields, but the produce was very poor in 
 comparison of the other parts of the field/' — A Correspon- 
 dent of the Bath Society, vid, Forsyth, vol. i. p. 502. 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 277 
 
 Note III. 
 
 And then, with cautious hand, the hedges lop, 
 Broad at the bottom, tapering by degrees. — P. 74. 
 
 The following observations by Lord Karnes, on the pro- 
 per method of rearing hawthorn-hedges, though very im- 
 portant, are not sufficiently attended to : 
 
 " We are now arrived at the most important article of 
 all, that of training up a thorn-hedge after it is planted. 
 The ordinary method is, to cut off the top and shorten the 
 lateral branches, in order to make it thick and bushy. To 
 the same end, the young thorns, after standing six or seven 
 years, are sometimes cut over within two or three inches of 
 the ground, which multiplies the stems and makes the hedge 
 still thicker. This form of a hedge catches the eye : by its 
 thickness it is formidable to cattle, but its weakness is dis- 
 covered when bare of leaves, and cattle break through every 
 where without obstruction. 
 
 " I have the experience of three hedges trained for twelve 
 years, as follows : — The first has been annually pruned, top 
 and sides. The sides of the second have been pruned, but 
 the top left entire. The third was allowed to grow without 
 any pruning. The first is at present about four feet broad, 
 and thick from top to bottom ; but weak in its stems, and 
 unable to resist any homed beast. The second is strong in 
 
278 NOTES ON APRIL. 
 
 its stems, and close from top to bottom. The third is also 
 strong in its stems, but, for two feet up, bare of lateral 
 branches, which have been destroyed by the overshadow- 
 ing of those above, depriving them both of rain and air. 
 That the second is the best method is ascertained by expe- 
 rience ; and that it ought to be so, will be evident, if we can 
 trust to analogy. In the natural growth of a tree, its trunk 
 is proportioned to its height : lop off the head, it spreads 
 laterally, and becomes strong, without rising in height or 
 swelling in the trunk." 
 
 Another able writer observes, that " The great art 
 of preserving hedges fencible, after they are raised, con- 
 sists in keeping them three or four times broader at 
 the bottom than at the top. By this means every part 
 has the full advantage of the sun, air, and rain ; it grows 
 equally thick throughout, and particularly below, where it 
 is most necessary. But when a hedge is trained broader at 
 top, or even perpendicular, that half of it next the surface 
 is under the drip of the rest ; and, deprived of sun and rain, 
 it sickens ; produces few or no young shoots ; the sap runs 
 all to the top of the hedge ; it gets quite bare below ; and 
 soon becomes unfit for a fence. Every accurate observer 
 will allow that this is the case, more or less, in the greater 
 part of what are generally considered as the best kept hedges, 
 such as those surrounding market-gardens in the neighbour- 
 hood of towns, which, though they are annually cleaned and 
 shorn with great care, are commonly so naked below, as to 
 admit hares, dogs, swine, Sec." — Loudon's Observations, edit. 
 1804, p. 143. 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 279 
 
 * Note IV. 
 
 Some husbandmen, as if by rage impelled, 
 With unrelenting hatchets, level low 
 Each full-grown hedge. P. 74. 
 
 The mania of massacring hedges, not old decayed hedges, 
 but such as are still in their prime, is quite unaccountable. 
 Even when hedges are old, the practice of hewing them 
 down within a foot or less of the ground is quite absurd. 
 The stumps thus left, it will be observed, never grow a bit 
 higher : so that they do not present any thing like an inte- 
 rim fence ; and the twigs that shoot from them, unless de- 
 fended with all the care that a young hedge requires, are 
 liable to be destroyed by cattle passing over and through 
 them. Cutting over at the distance of three feet from the 
 ground, answers the purpose of obtaining a crop of new 
 shoots equally well, while the old steins, with the aid of a 
 stake put in here and there, continue to be a useful fence. 
 Besides, cutting a thorn very near the root often destroys, 
 and always greatly impairs, the vegetative powers of the 
 stump. 
 
 The practice of plashing, though it does not deprive the 
 field of an interim fence, is condemned by Lord Karnes in 
 these words : " Plashing an old hedge, an ordinary practice 
 in England, makes indeed a good interim fence ; but at the 
 long run is destructive to the hedge : and accordingly, there 
 
280 NOTES ON APRIL. 
 
 is scarcely to be met with a complete good hedge, where 
 plashing has been long practised. A cat is said, among the 
 vulgar, to have nine lives ; is it their opinion, that a thorn, 
 like a cat, may be cut and slashed at will, without suffering 
 by it ?" 
 
 Note V. 
 The genius of the thorn is misconceived, fyc. — P. 76. 
 
 Hawthorns, and all the thorny tribe's which, in a state of 
 nature, run into thickets, thrive the better for being crowd- 
 ed. In a crowded state, that is in the state of a thicket, 
 they will not indeed assume the appearance of trees, as 
 single hawthorns do, but they will possess health and vi- 
 gour as shrubs. They will not shoot into tall sickly poles, 
 as -trees properly so called do, when they are crowded toge- 
 ther. It is, therefore, quite absurd to plant thorns like tur- 
 nips or potatoes, in drills, by way of making them healthy. 
 It is, no doubt, easier to weed a hedge, consisting of a single 
 regular row of plants, than one consisting of thorns three or 
 four deep. But, in truth, there would be no difficulty in 
 weeding young thorns, though they formed even a broad 
 belt. They should never be weeded with any other instru- 
 ment than the hand ; for the bark (a most essential part in 
 the structure of a plant) is always more or less wounded by 
 the use of iron weeders. After being weeded by the hand 
 for a year or two, they require no aid to enable them to 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 281 
 
 keep their ground against the growth of weeds. But weed- 
 ing at all would be quite unnecessary, if the plan which I 
 suggest were to be adopted. Protection for two or three 
 years against the assaults of cattle, would be quite sufficient 
 to ensure the growth of an impenetrable fence. The sur- 
 face of the little mounds on which our single-row hedges 
 are reared, is seldom less than five or six feet. I do not 
 mean that such mounds are generally five or six feet in 
 breadth, but merely that, measuring from the ditch up the 
 slope over, and down to the ground on the other side, there 
 is generally a surface of the extent at least which I have 
 mentioned. Now, though in estimating the space which, iii 
 such cases, may be filled with plants that grow, like the 
 hawthorn, upright, the base of the mound must be the rule, 
 yet when the plantable space (so to speak) is estimated, 
 partly in reference to shrubs that creep or climb, the super- 
 ficial extent of the mound is so far the rule for estimating 
 the number of plants which the space will hold, I do then, 
 with some confidence, say, that on such a space of five or 
 six feet, by mixing several kinds of the thorny shrubs toge- 
 ther, adding perhaps some willows and honeysuckles, fen- 
 ces of the most sufficient and durable, as well as beautiful 
 kind, might be reared without any other trouble than that of 
 keeping them from encroaching beyond their prescribed li- 
 mits. Brambles and briers, though they are short-lived 
 plants, are every year pushing out fresh shoots ; and in this 
 way are excellently fitted for filling up the lower parts of 
 fences, where the under branches of the more permanent 
 thorns have decayed. They are useful in another respectj 
 
 2 n 
 
282 NOTES ON APftlL. 
 
 for though they are weaker than either the white or black 
 thorn, yet, from the hooked shape of their prickles, they 
 form a more formidable obstacle to sheep. Nor can the 
 injury, which they might do to the wool be objected to, 
 since it is only imperfect fences, that is, such as the sheep 
 know by experience they can force a way through, that they 
 ever attempt to break. The social nature of the hawthorn 
 is proved by another circumstance, besides its thriving best 
 in thickets, — namely, that even the close embrace of ivy 
 does it no injury. The finest hawthorn- trees that I have 
 seen were encircled with that beautiful evergreen. I do not 
 think that it is even much injured by trees overspreading it, 
 for it certainly grows with great luxuriance in woods. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 There place your foot, let not a twig encroach. — P. 77. 
 
 I, of course, limit this observation to cases where orna- 
 ment is only a secondary consideration. A certain irregu- 
 larity and wildness of appearance in a hedge is more pleas- 
 ing than a uniform trimness. At the same time, I am far 
 from approving of that fastidious attachment to systematic 
 irregularity, that would exclude, from all the productions of 
 Nature, every trace of the human hand. 
 
NOTES ON APRIL. 283 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 Not void of grace. — P. 79- 
 
 -With Highland flings 
 
 
 The superiority of Highland dancing, as existing in the 
 Highlands, is admirably described by Mrs Grant : 
 
 " Then native Music wakes in sprightly strains, 
 Which gay according motion best, explains: 
 Fastidious Elegance, in scornful guise, 
 Perhaps th' unpolished measure may despise ; 
 But here, where infants lisp in tuneful lays, 
 And Melody her untaught charms displays ; 
 The dancers bound with wild peculiar grace, 
 And sound through all its raptured mazes trace ; 
 Nor awkward step, nor rude ungainly mien, 
 Through all the glad assemblage can be seen : 
 But with decorous air, and sprightly ease, 
 Even critic taste the agile dancers please. 
 Cameleon Fashion's self, whose varying hue 
 Assumes the likeness of each object new, 
 Returns, to copy Motion's artless grace, 
 Even from the wildest of the mountain race, 
 And, with decisive voice, her votaries calls, 
 To ape, with air constrained, the rural balls ! 
 The nymph that wont to trace the source of Tay, 
 Or lead the sprightly dance by rapid Spey, 
 
 10 
 
284 NOTES ON APRIL. 
 
 With conscious triumph, smiles aside to see, 
 This ' faint reflection of the rural glee ;' 
 Short pleasure languid imitation feels, 
 While polished courtiers pant in active reels." 
 
 The Highlanders, p. 55. 1st edit. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 A softened tone, and slower measure, flows 
 
 Sweet from the strings, and stills the boisterous joy. — P. 80. 
 
 In Ramsay's time, it seems to have been common for fid« 
 dlers to accompany the instrument with the voice. 
 
 u In sonnet slee the man I sing, 
 His rare eng'yne in rhyme shall ring, 
 Wha slaid the stick out o'er the string 
 
 Wi' sic an art; 
 Wha sang sae sweetly to the spring, 
 
 An' rais'd the heart." 
 
 Elegy on Patie Birnie. 
 
NOTES ON MAY. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Even love itself, that in the peasant's heart 
 
 Was wont to glow with pure and constant flame, $c. P. 91. 
 
 " In appreciating the happiness and virtue of a commu- 
 nity, there is perhaps no single criterion on which so much 
 dependence may be placed, as the state of the intercourse 
 betwixt the sexes. Where this displays ardour of attach- 
 ment, accompanied by purity of conduct, the character and 
 the influence of women rise in society, our imperfect nature 
 mounts in the scale of moral excellence ; and, from the 
 source of this single affection, a stream of felicity descends 
 which branches into a thousand rivulets, that enrich and 
 adorn the field of life. Where the attachment between the 
 sexes sinks into an appetite, the heritage of our species is 
 comparatively poor, and man approaches the condition of 
 the brutes that perish." 
 
 'Remarks on the Character and Condition of the Scottish 
 Peasantry, by Dr Currie. 
 
286 NOTES ON MAY. 
 
 The ardour of attachment and purity of conduct here 
 spoken of, are in part ascribed by Dr Currie to the influence 
 of the national music and poetry. 
 
 " Their present influence on the character of the nation 
 is, however, great and striking. To them we must attribute, 
 in a great measure, the romantic passion which so often cha- 
 racterises the attachments of the humblest of the people of 
 Scotland, to a degree that, if we mistake not, is seldom 
 found in the same rank of society in other countries. The 
 pictures of love and happiness exhibited in their rural songs, 
 are early impressed on the mind of the peasant, and are ren- 
 dered more attractive from the music with which they are 
 united. They associate themselves with his own youthful 
 emotions ; they elevate the object as well as the nature of 
 his attachment ; and give to the impressions of sense, the 
 beautiful colours of imagination. Hence, in the course of 
 his passion, a Scottish peasant often exerts a spirit of ad- 
 venture, of which a Spanish cavalier need not be ashamed. 
 After the labours of the day are over, he sets out for the 
 habitation of his mistress, perhaps at many miles distance, 
 regardless of the length or dreariness of the way. He ap- 
 proaches her in secrecy, under the disguise of night. A sig- 
 nal at the door or window, perhaps agreed on, and under- 
 stood by none but her, gives information of his arrival ; and 
 sometimes it is repeated again and again, before the capri- 
 cious fair one will obey the summons. But if she favours 
 his addresses, she escapes unobserved, and receives the vows 
 of her lover under the gloom of twilight, or the deeper shade 
 
NOTES ON MAY. 287 
 
 of night. Interviews of this kind are the subjects of many 
 of the Scottish songs, some of the most beautiful of which 
 Burns has imitated or improved." — Remarks, $c, by Dr 
 Currie. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 In moorland farms, the season now invites 
 Him, who would change the heath-flower for the pea, 
 To draw his drains both deep and broad, with sides 
 Of easy slope. P. 92. 
 
 The mode of converting peat-moss into fertile fields, as 
 practised by Mr Smith of Swinridge-moor, who led the way 
 in this species of improvement, or at least first communica- 
 ted it to the public, is described by Mr Headrick, in a com- 
 munication to the Board of Agriculture. The following are 
 extracts from that communication : 
 
 " When they enter upon the improvement of a moss in its 
 natural state, the first thing to be done is, to mark and cut 
 main or master drains, eight feet in width, by four and a 
 half in depth, and declining to two and a half at bottom ; 
 these cost a shilling per fall of Scots ells. In some instan- 
 ces, it will be found necessary to cut those drains much 
 deeper, consequently at a greater expence. These drains, 
 almost in every instance, can be, and are so conducted, as 
 to divide the field into regular and proper inclosures. They 
 
288 NOTES ON MAY. 
 
 always make it a rule to finish off as much of a drain as they 
 have broken up, before they leave it at night ; because if a 
 part is left dug, suppose half-way, the oozing of water from 
 the sides would render the bottom so soft, that they could 
 neither stand upon it, nor lift it with the spade. When the 
 moss is so very soft, that the pressure of what is thrown out 
 of the drain may cause its sides to fall in again, they throw 
 the clods from the drain a considerable way back, and 
 sometimes have a man to throw them still further back, by 
 a spade or the hand ; for this reason, too, they always throw 
 the stuff taken from a drain as equally as possible on each 
 side of it. In digging the drains, the workmen stand upon 
 small boards, to prevent them from sinking, and move them 
 forward as the work advances. 
 
 " When the moss lies in a hollow, with only one outlet, it 
 is necessary to lead up a drain, so as to let the water pass 
 this outlet, and then conduct it along the lowest or wettest 
 part of the moss : this middle drain is afterwards sloped, 
 and the stuff thrown back into the hollows that may occur; 
 upon it the ridges are made to terminate on each side, while 
 a ring-drain, serving the purpose of a fence, is thrown round 
 the moss, at the line where the rising ground commences. 
 This can generally be so managed as to divide the moss into 
 a square field, leaving straight lines for the sides of the con- 
 tiguous fields. The ring-drain intercepts the surface water 
 from the higher grounds, and conducts it into the lower part 
 of the outlet, while the sloped drain in the centre receives 
 and discharges all the water that falls upon the moss." 
 
NOTES ON MAY. 289 
 
 " The drains being thus completed, they mark out the 
 ridges, either with a long string, or with three poles set in 
 a line. Mr Smith has tried several breadths of ridges, but 
 now gives a decided preference to those that are seven yards 
 in breadth. The ridges are formed with the spade in the 
 following manner : In the centre of each intended ridge, a 
 space of about two feet is allowed to remain untouched ; on 
 each side of that space a furrow is opened, which is turned 
 over so as completely to cover that space, like what is cal- 
 led veering or jeering of a gathered ridge ; the work, thus 
 begun, is continued by cutting furrows with the spade, and 
 turning them over from end to end of the ridge on each side, 
 until they arrive at the division-furrows. The breadth of 
 the slices thus cut may be about 12 inches, and each piece 
 is made as long as it may suit to turn over. The ridge, when 
 finished, has the appearance of having been done with a 
 plough. The division-furrow is two feet in breadth, which, 
 if necessary to draw off superfluous water, is partly cut and 
 thrown upon the sides, or into hollows in the ridges on each 
 side. The depth of the division- furrows is regulated by cir- 
 cumstances, so as not to lay the ridges at first too dr3 r , but 
 at the same time to bleed, as it were, the moss, and conduct 
 the superfluous water into the master drains. 
 
 " The next operation is to top-dress the ridges with lime. 
 The sooner this is done after the ridges are formed, the bet- 
 ter. When the moss appears dry, experienced farmers throw 
 on the lime, but do not clean out the division-furrows until 
 the ensuing winter. When it is soaked in water, they clean 
 the division-furrows as soon as the lime is ready, and after 
 
 2o 
 
290 NOTES ON MAY. 
 
 the water has run off, apply the lime immediately. It is of 
 great importance to have the lime applied while the moss 
 is still moist, and the lime in as caustic a state as possible." 
 
 Note III. 
 
 -But man, 
 
 When forced his dwelling-place to leave, the fields 
 Which he and his forefathers ploughed. — P. 94. 
 
 Those who consider the soil in no other light than as a 
 commodity which may be manufactured into corn or cattle, 
 i. e. into pounds, shillings, and pence, affect to sneer at the 
 very statement of the question, whether the system of large 
 or small farms is preferable. I am well aware, that any le- 
 gislative interference, either with trade or agriculture, is apt 
 to do more harm than good. At the same time, I can ne- 
 ver see the propriety of an undeviating application of the 
 laissez faire principle. That principle is only a good one 
 when it is observed throughout. On such a subject as this, 
 however, my judgment will be of little weight. I will, there- 
 fore, refer to the opinion of a man who was no visionary. 
 His ideas appear to me to be so just, and to have so obvious 
 a tendency to promote the comfort and happiness of the 
 people, that I think they cannot be too often repeated and 
 insisted on. 
 
 H I proceed to an interesting article, which is, to com- 
 
NOTES ON MAY. 291 
 
 pare great and small farms in point of utility. I call a 
 small farm what employs but a single plough ; and a smal- 
 ler there ought not to be. A middling farm is what requires 
 two ploughs ; and whatever requires a greater number, I 
 call a great farm. These different farms I shall consider 
 with respect to the landlord, with respect to the tenant, and 
 with respect to the public. 
 
 M With respect to the landlord, there are advantages and 
 disadvantages that tend to balance each other. Small farms 
 draw the greatest number of candidates ; which cannot fail 
 to raise the rents. On the other hand, small farms occa- 
 sion a great expence for houses; and in a country where 
 building materials are costly, large farms may appear to be 
 the interest of the landlord. 
 
 " "With respect to tenants, a farm as large as can be ac- 
 curately managed, is undoubtedly the interest of a tenant, 
 provided he have a fund for stocking the farm sufficiently. 
 But this is really saying no more, but that it is beneficial to 
 have a large fund. The proper question is, Whether, with 
 respect to farmers in general, it is not a convenience to have 
 the choice of small or great farms, according to their stock ? 
 In that view, small farms are undoubtedly advantageous to 
 those who want to be farmers ; because, in Scotland at least, 
 the number is much greater of those who can stock a small 
 farm, than of those who can go farther. It may possibly be 
 objected, that there is an inconvenience in a small farm, 
 where two horses only are necessary for a plough, in respect 
 that two horses make but a slow progress in carrying corn 
 or dung. To this objection there is a ready answer : Two 
 
292 NOTES ON" MAY. 
 
 horses in two single carts will make as much expedition in 
 carrying out the dung, or carrying in the corn of a small 
 farm, as double that number will make in a middling farm, 
 where the dung and corn are double in quantity. I say fur- 
 ther, that if two horses be not sufficient, the defect may be 
 readily supplied by two draught oxen, which add very little 
 to the expence of the farm. These, at four years of age, 
 may be purchased for 101. They will give, at seven, 151. ; 
 and this profit, with no more work than sufficient to give 
 them a stomach, will balance their summer food of green 
 clover. Their winter food of straw cannot enter into the 
 computation, being the very best way of converting straw 
 into dung. Here there is a great convenience. Where a 
 field, by drought or otherwise, is rendered too stiff for a 
 pair, the oxen may be yoked in the plough with the horses. 
 In ground less stiff, the farmer has a choice of two oxen and 
 a horse, of two horses alone, or of two oxen. Where plough- 
 ing happens to be retarded by bad weather, two ploughs 
 may be employed, which is a signal convenience. Plough- 
 ing, also, and harrowing, may go on at the same time ; and 
 the farmer has it always in his power to yoke two double 
 carts. Even in carse-soil this plan will answer ; as there is 
 seldom occasion to employ the oxen but where the ground 
 is sufficiently dry for them. 
 
 " With respect to the public, small farms are undoubted- 
 ly the most advantageous. The number of servants, it is 
 true, must be in proportion to the size of the farm ; but in 
 a middling farm there is but one tenant ; whereas in two 
 small farms of no greater extent, there are two. And the 
 
 13 
 
NOTES ON MAY. 293 
 
 difference is still greater in large farms. This is a capital 
 circumstance. The children of tenants are taught to read 
 and write ; and, in general, are better educated than chil- 
 dren of day-labourers, which qualifies them better for being 
 artists and manufacturers. They are also commonly more 
 numerous, being better nourished during non-age, and bet- 
 ter preserved from diseases. Small farms accordingly are 
 not only favourable to population, but to the most useful po- 
 pulation. I would not therefore indulge willingly any farm 
 beyond a middle size. And, to check those of a large size, 
 I am clear for a tax of 31. or 41. yearly upon every farm 
 that requires three ploughs; and so on, according to the 
 number. I except proprietors, who ought to be encouraged 
 to improve their estates : let them employ as many ploughs 
 as they find convenient, and not be subjected to any tax. 
 If any undertaker be willing to lay out a large sum of mo- 
 ney upon farming, the profit of a long lease will enable him 
 to pay the tax. This tax at the same time may be so con- 
 trived, as to answer a valuable purpose, that of exciting 
 farmers to use oxen instead of horses ; which will be done 
 by exempting oxen-ploughs from the tax. And the under- 
 taker mentioned will be relieved from the tax altogether, if 
 he employ such ploughs only." 
 
 Lord Kames's Gentleman Farmer, p. 276, 
 
NOTES ON JUNE. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 -Let us be taught 
 
 By them ; by Nature lengthening out our day 
 
 To twice ten hours, — and labour in the cool. — P. 105. 
 
 At Midsummer the sun is above the horizon eighteen 
 hours and a half, and there is good day-light an hour and 
 a quarter before sunrise, and as long after sunset. The day 
 may therefore be said to be 20 hours long at this season. 
 In choosing ten or twelve hours for labour out of these twen- 
 ty, why, from a habit which suits the cooler seasons of the 
 year, should the very worst portion of the day be pitched 
 upon ? 
 
NOTES ON JUNE. 295 
 
 Note II. 
 
 Wliy, 'twixt the bean-field's marshalled ranks, is left 
 
 Free space for air and sun ; and why the spikes 
 
 Of bearded grain wave equal o'er the plain. P. 106. 
 
 At one time the drill husbandry was often applied even to 
 grain crops, but now it is going into disuse. Indeed there 
 is an obvious reason for confining this mode of husbandry 
 to those kinds of plants which derive, through the medium 
 of their broad leaves, a very great proportion of their nou- 
 rishment from the atmosphere, or which bear their product 
 on the lower as well as the upper parts of their stems. The 
 leaves of beans are broad, and both they and the blossoms 
 appear a considerable way down the stalk. The free ad- 
 mission, therefore, of the air and of the sun-beams, for the 
 purposes of growth and ripening, is peculiarly necessary to 
 them. The different species of corn, on the other hand, de- 
 rive, comparatively speaking, a small portion of their nou- 
 rishment from the air, and their seed presents itself all at 
 the top of the stalk. It is obvious, therefore, that the broad- 
 cast mode of sowing is most suitable to them, and experi- 
 ence has proved this to be the case. 
 
296 NOTES OK JUNE. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Some the hoe prefer, 
 
 Which female hands, or, if of lighter make, 
 The childish grasp can wield, — P. 107. 
 
 u 
 
 It is generally supposed that a weightier crop is produ- 
 ced by the drill than by the broad-cast method ; but, even 
 admitting them equal in this respect, the superiority as a 
 fallow-crop must be allowed, because, by the repeated horse- 
 hoeings or ploughings in the intervals, and hand-hoeing in 
 the rows, you have it in your power to extirpate the whole 
 race of animal weeds, and so much surface being exposed 
 through the winter, makes a higher preparation for any suc- 
 ceeding crop. Another advantage is, the facility with which 
 they are hoed ; as a girl or boy of nine years old can hoe 
 them with the greatest ease, and indeed generally better, 
 than experienced broad-cast hoers : because these are more 
 apt to take too many away, and leave them over-thin in the 
 rows, while the young ones, from the apprehension of hoe- 
 ing them too thin, will leave the plants at any distance you 
 fix upon/' — Young's Farmers Calendar, p. 351. 
 
 The use of the plough as well as of the hoe, in drill-hus- 
 bandry, is as old as the days of Virgil. They seem, however, 
 to have been employed chiefly in the cultivation of the 
 vine : 
 

 NOTES ON JUNE. 297 
 
 " Seminibus positis, superest deducere terram 
 Saepius ad capita, et duros jactare bidentes ; 
 Aut presso exercere solum sub vomere, et ipsa 
 Flectere luclantes inter vineta juvencos: 
 
 Geor. II. 1. 354. 
 
 H Be mindful when thou hast entombed the shoot, 
 With store of earth around to feed the root ; 
 With iron-teeth of rakes and prongs, to move 
 The crusted earth, and loosen it above. 
 Then exercise thy sturdy steers, to plough 
 Betwixt thy vines." Dryden. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 If o'er your leas the yellow ragwort spread 
 A gaudy forest, —P. 108. 
 
 In many parts of Scotland, the pasture-fields are covered 
 with large, and consequently exhausting, crops of these 
 weeds, which are allowed to blossom, ripen, and disperse 
 their down-winged seed. I believe they are triennial plants, 
 so that cutting them down for three years will extirpate 
 them. It is hardly necessary to say, that cutting them down 
 in time would serve the double purpose of freeing the ground 
 from a nuisance, and of making a valuable addition to the 
 dunghill. 
 
 2 p 
 
29& NOTES ON JUNE. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 Others again, whate'er the grassy crop, 
 If one days sun they gain, no longer trust 
 The fickle sky, but rear the verdant cock, 
 Of size diminutive, tyc* P. 118* 
 
 On the subject of haymaking, the following mode describ- 
 ed by Dr James Anderson appears from the nature of the 
 thing to be so judicious, and its advantages are pointed out 
 in the course of the description, in a manner so simple and 
 convincing, that it ought to be universally known. 
 
 " Instead (says he) of allowing the hay to lie, as usual in 
 most places, for some days in the swathe, after it» is cut, and 
 afterwards alternately putting it up into cocks, and spread- 
 ing it out, and tedding it in the sun, which tends greatly to 
 bleach the hay, exhales its natural juices, and subjects it 
 very much to the danger of getting rain, and thus runs a 
 great risk of being good for little ; I make it a general rule, 
 if possible, never to cut hay but when the grass is quite dry; 
 and then make the gatherers follow close upon the cutters, 
 putting it up immediately into small cocks, about three feet 
 high each when new put up, and of as small a diameter as 
 they can be made to stand with; always giving each of 
 them a slight kind of thatching, by drawing a few handfuls 
 
NOTES ON JUNE. 29D 
 
 of the hay from the bottom of the cock all around, and lay- 
 ing it lightly upon the top with one of the ends hanging 
 downwards. This is done with the utmost ease and expedi- 
 tion ; and when it is once in that state, I consider my hay 
 as in a great measure out of danger : for unless a violent 
 wind should arise immediately after the cocks are put up, so 
 as to overturn them, nothing else can hurt the hay ; as I 
 have often experienced that no rain, however violent, ever 
 penetrates into these cocks but for a very little way : and, 
 if they are dry put up, they never sit together so closely as 
 to heat ; although they acquire, in a day or two, such a de- 
 gree of firmness, as to be in no danger of being overturned 
 by wind alter that time, unless it blows a hurricane." 
 
 " In these cocks 1 allow the hay to remain, until, upon 
 inspection, I judge that it will keep in pretty large tramp- 
 cocks (which is usually in one or two weeks, according as 
 the weather is more or less favourable), when two men, each 
 with a long-pronged pitch-fork, lift up one of these small 
 cocks between them with the greatest ease, and carry them 
 one after another to the place where the tramp-cock is to be 
 built : and in this manner they proceed over the field till 
 the whole is finished/' 
 
 Essays on Agriculture, Vol. i. p. 186. 
 
SOO NOTES ON JUNE. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Beneath whose boughs the royal tent was stretched. — P. 122. 
 
 " The king of Scots appointed a general rendezvous of his 
 forces at the Torwood, between Falkirk and Stirling." 
 
 Hailes. 
 
 Note VII. 
 He passes by the memorable stone.— P. 123. 
 
 The stone in which Bruce fixed his standard is still to be 
 seen. 
 
NOTES ON JULY, 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Though rarely prized by husbandmen, whose bounds 
 Embrace a widely-spread domain. — P. 130. 
 
 " Farmers of every rank will find their advantage in keep- 
 ing bee-hives, in proportion to the extent of the flowers that 
 grow upon their farms ; as one single acre planted with tur- 
 nips, mustard, clover, or heath, will feed many hives. Even 
 the meanest cottager, who has but a cottage and a kail- 
 yard, might keep two or three hives, and sow a little mus- 
 tard and turnips, or plant a few gooseberry bushes, on pur- 
 pose to feed bees. There is scarce a country village in the 
 kingdom, that might not afford to keep as many bee-hives 
 as there are dwelling-houses in it ; nor a tradesman in such 
 a village, who might not easily keep as many hives as he 
 has hands employed in business. Even servants might have 
 a few hives kept as their own property, in the gardens of 
 their parents, brothers, or friends. In short, persons of all 
 ranks and degrees, from the king to the cottager, might be 
 
302 NOTES ON JULY. 
 
 profitably employed, or agreeably amused, by keeping bee- 
 hives." 
 
 " I am quite certain, and some others have often told me, 
 that they were of the same opinion, that the melodious hum- 
 ming of bees, when busy at work, or sporting in the air for 
 their own amusement, will have such an effect upon the 
 animal spirits, that, however chagrined or ruffled the temper 
 of a person might be, before he takes a walk among his 
 bees, he generally does not withdraw till the mind enjoys a 
 perfect calm and inward tranquillity .' 
 
 Bonn a r on Bees. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 ■The jangling pan 
 
 Essayed in vain to stop the living cloud. — P. 133. 
 This practice is very ancient : 
 
 " Tinnitusque cie, et matris quate cymbala circum." 
 
 Georg. IV. ], 63. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 A tempting seat, a blossoming abode. P. ]33. 
 
 " Obviaque hospitiis teneat frond en tibus arbos." 
 
 Georg. IV. 1. 24. 
 
NOTES ON JULY. 303 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 But none of all the flowery race affords 
 Supplies so plentiful of honey lymph. — P. 135. 
 
 " Whenever a honey dew is found, the bees are so ex- 
 tremely eager to fetch it, that they quit all other work, that 
 their returns may be the quicker and more numerous ; and 
 lest a gloomy change should deprive them of the precious 
 prize. No harvest swain, dreading impending storms, can 
 be more anxious or expeditious, in hastening the housing of 
 his crops, than these aerial tribes in this their delightful 
 office ; so much so, that thronging in too great numbers at 
 the door, they jostle and tumble each other down. And 
 smarting woe to those who shall thoughtlessly stand in their 
 way at this important crisis ! Their joy on these occasions 
 is expressed in such incessant and loud notes, as to be heard 
 at a great distance. By these tokens it may be known, that 
 there is a honey dew, without seeing the trees from which 
 they gather it. " > Key. 
 
304- NOTES ON JULY. 
 
 NoteV. 
 
 -The light precursors fly, 
 
 Like warping midges on a summer's eve, 
 In reeling dance, fyc.-— P. 136. 
 
 " If the bees, about eleven o'clock a. m. fly about in a 
 reeling manner, making a noise and motion about the front 
 of the hive, all these are signs to put the bee-master on his 
 guard, and to prepare him for the joyful >event that is fast 
 approaching, of a young colony within a day or two, or 
 even, perhaps, within an hour or two. But if the bees, af- 
 ter .all this, run hastily up and down the outside of the hive, 
 and at last gather together in a cluster upon the stool, he 
 may call his friends together, to behold his increasing 
 store, as he may depend that they will swarm immediately." 
 — Bonnar. 
 
 " Before bees swarm the second or third time, they do 
 not lie out in clusters about the hive or upon the stool ; but 
 as soon as they are ready, they come off in a body, even in 
 weather that is by no means favourable. The signs, when 
 these after-swarms will come off, are more certain than those 
 that precede the first swarming ; for, if the weather be good, 
 one may almost prognosticate the very hour. By listening 
 at night to the sound of a hive, about eight, ten, or twelve 
 days after the first swarm is gone off, that peculiar sound, 
 
NOTES ON JULY. 305 
 
 commonly called tolling, will be easily distinguished. This 
 sound seems to be the royal proclamation issued by the 
 young princess, to warn, or rather to invite, her fellow-emi- 
 grants to prepare for their intended journey. It sounds, 
 says one, as if the words peep ! peep ! peep ! were rapidly 
 pronounced fifteen or twenty times in half a minute. She 
 then stops, and begins again repeatedly, like a chicken 
 peeping for its mother, when it has lost her." — Bonnar. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 -Haste, spread the sheet, and lay 
 
 Two rods of mountain-ash along, fyc. — P. 137. 
 
 M As soon as they alight on any thing, that can easily be 
 brought to the giound, such as the small branch of a tree, 
 or a berry-bush, or the like, let a sheet be spread on the 
 ground near the swarm, and two sticks placed upon it, a 
 foot asunder. Then place the swarm upon the sheet, be- 
 tween the sticks, and gently cover it with a hive, resting the 
 edges of the hive upon the sticks, to prevent it from crush- 
 ing any of the bees ; who will thus have free air, and access 
 to and from the hive, which must be covered with a cloth, 
 to prevent the rays of the sun from scorching the bees, and 
 provoking them to rise and seek out a more comfortable ha- 
 bitation. If their new lodging pleases them, they will take 
 immediate possession, and fall to work with alacrity." 
 
 Bon nab. 
 2 Q 
 
306 NOTES ON JULY. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 -Closely they entomb 
 
 In catacomb, as in his pristine shell. P. 138. 
 
 I never witnessed this circumstance myself. I state it on 
 the authority of a lady, whose veracity is as unquestionable 
 as her genius. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 When Summers blow of flowers begins to fade, 
 Some to the moorlands bear their hives, to cull 
 The treasures of the heathbell. — P. 139* 
 
 " About Lammas, those who live in situations where the 
 vegetation is early over, especially if possessed of a large 
 number of hives, ought to remove their bees to the neigh- 
 bourhood of heath grounds, if they should even be six or 
 eight miles distant, and allow them to continue in that situ- 
 ation till the heath gives over blossoming. This measure I 
 would earnestly recommend, as the bees, after having had 
 all the advantage of their early situations, will work as late 
 in the season, as those in the latest situations. I have often 
 seen a hive, by being placed nigh heath, become ten, twelve, 
 
NOTES ON JULY. 307 
 
 or fifteen pounds heavier in the month of August ; whereas 
 if it had remained in its original early situation, it would 
 probably have become every day lighter after Lammas. 
 The only risk in this case is, that if the weather turn out 
 bad in August, the bee-master will lose all his trouble ; but 
 contingencies of this kind happen in every other business in 
 which mankind engage ; which, nevertheless, do not deter 
 us from adventuring/' 
 
 " I can assure my readers, that, in the middle of Septem- 
 ber 1792, I have seen bees in such situations, filling their 
 hives with combs and honey, as plentifully and as expedi- 
 tiously as if it had been the middle of June. In the begin- 
 ning of September that year, I purchased, for a gentleman 
 in Northumberland, a considerable number of hives, that 
 were only about half full of combs when placed in his api- 
 ary ; but the heath in his grounds being extremely rich and 
 in full blossom, the bees were so expeditious in their la- 
 bours, that they filled the hives completely with both combs 
 and honey, within a week thereafter/'— Bonn a r. 
 
308 
 
 NOTES ON JULY. 
 
 
 Note IX. 
 If e'er disease assail the humming race, P. 140. 
 
 This and the twenty-five subsequent lines are, with some 
 variations, a translation of the passage in the 4th Georgic, 
 beginning with the lines, 
 
 Si vero, quoniam casus apibus quoque nostros 
 Vita tulit, tristi languebunt corpora morbo. 
 
 1. 250, 251. 
 
 As a curiously bad specimen of what, notwithstanding 
 the high name of the translator, I hold to be a very miser- 
 able translation, I will here add Dryden's version of the pas- 
 sage alluded to : 
 
 " But since they share with man one common fate, 
 
 In health and sickness, and in turns of state ; 
 
 Observe the symptoms when they fall away, 
 
 And languish with insensible decay. 
 
 They change their hue, with haggard eyes they stare, 
 
 Lean are their looks, and shagged is their hair: 
 
 And crowds of dead that never must return 
 
 To their loved hives, in decent pomp are borne ; 
 
 Their friends attend the hearse, the next relations mourn. 
 
 The sick for air, before the portal, gasp, 
 
 Their feeble legs within each other clasp ; 
 
 } 
 
NOTES ON JULY. 309 
 
 Or idle in their empty hives remain, 
 
 Benumb'd with cold, and listless of their gain. 
 
 Soft whispers then, and broken sounds are heard, 
 
 As when the woods by gentle winds are stirred. 
 
 Such stifled noise as the close furnace hides, 
 
 Or dying murmurs of departing tides. 
 
 This when thou see'st, Galbanean odours use, 
 
 And honey in the sickly hive infuse. 
 
 Through reeden pipes convey the golden flood, 
 
 T' invite the people to their wonted fond. 
 
 Mix it with thickened juice of sodden wines, 
 
 And raisins from the grapes of Psythian vines : 
 
 To these add pounded galls, and roses dry, 
 
 And with Cecropian thyme, strong-scented centaury. 
 
 A flower there is, that grows on meadow-ground, 
 Amellus called, and easy to be found ; 
 For from one root the rising stem bestows 
 A wood of leaves, and vi'let purple boughs : 
 The flower itself is glorious to behold, 
 And shines on altars like refulgent gold : 
 Sharp to the taste, by shepherds near the stream 
 Of Mella found, and thence they gave the name ; 
 Boil this restoring root in gen'rous wine, 
 And set beside the door, the sickly stock to dine." 
 
310 NOTES ON JULY. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 And did the sage, whose powerful genius shed 
 
 A flood of light, where only glimmering rays, 8fC — P. 143. 
 
 Till Dr Currie of Liverpool published his book on Fevers, 
 the external application of cold water, as a remedy in fevers, 
 was used with a very timid hand. If he was not absolute- 
 ly the discoverer of this remedy, he was at least the first 
 physician who discovered the proper modes and times of 
 its application, and who demonstrated, by a series of ob- 
 servations, and a train of ingenious and conclusive argu- 
 ment, that it was equally safe and efficacious. 
 
NOTES ON AUGUST. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Sweet is the falling of the single voice, 
 
 And sweet the joining of the choral swell— P. 151, 
 
 " Such have I heard, in Scottish land, 
 
 Rise from the busy harvest band, 
 
 When falls before the mountaineer, 
 
 On lowland plains, the ripened ear. 
 
 Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 
 
 Now a wild chorus swells the song : 
 
 Oft have I listened, and stood still, 
 
 As it came softened up the hill, 
 
 And deemed it the lament of men 
 
 Who languished for their native glen ; 
 
 And thought, how sad would be such sound, 
 
 On Susquehanna's swampy ground, 
 
 Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake, 
 
 Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 
 
 Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 
 
 Recalled fair Scotland's hills again !" 
 
 Marmion. 
 
 3 
 
312 NOTES ON AUGUST. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 -A mildew creeps 
 
 Along the wheat en ridge, blighting the ears ; 
 Haste, then, the sickle urge, #c. — P. 153. 
 
 " Be very attentive to the wheat crops this month : they 
 are every where liable to this fatal distemper, which admits 
 but of one cure or check, and that is, reaping it as soon as 
 it is struck. The capital managers in Suffolk know well, 
 that every hour the wheat stands after the mildew appears 
 is mischievous to the crop. It should be cut, though quite 
 green, as it is found that the grain fills after it is cut, and 
 ripens in a manner that those would not conceive who have 
 riot tried the experiment, which I have done many times ; 
 reaping so early, that the labourers pronounced I should 
 have nothing but hens meat. They were always mistaken, 
 for the sample proved good, while others, who left it longer, 
 suffered severely. The fact is now pretty generally known 
 and admitted."— Young's Farmer's Calendar. 
 
NOTES ON AUGUST. 3lS 
 
 Note III. 
 
 No sign of gathering storms, both wind and rain, 
 Is surer than the sea-fowl's inland flight . — P. 155. 
 
 " Quum medio celeres revolant ex aequore mergi." 
 
 Georg. IV. 1. 361. 
 
 -" The cormorant on high 
 
 Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land." 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 How richly fraught with vegetable food 
 
 The stream subsides upon the deluged plain. — P. 158. 
 
 i 
 
 Quique paludis 
 
 Collectum humorem bibula. deducit arena, 
 Praesertim incertis si mensibus amnis abundans 
 Exit, et obducto late tenet omnia limo, 
 Unde cava; tepido sudant humore lacunae ?" 
 
 Georg. 1. 1. 113. 
 
 " And drains the standing waters, when they yield 
 Too large a beverage to the drunken field. 
 But most in autumn, and the showery spring, 
 When dubious months uncertain weather bring ; 
 
 2 R 
 
314 NOTES ON AUGUST. 
 
 When fountains open, when impetuous rain 
 Swells hasty brooks, and pours upon the plain ; 
 When Earth with slime and mud is covered o'er, 
 Or hollow places spew their watery store." 
 
 Dry den's Translation. 
 
 The different ways in which a farmer may avail himself 
 of the earthy substances deposited by rivers are various, ac- 
 cording to the situation and form of his grounds. For a 
 description of warping, or the art of embanking rivers into 
 which the tide flows, in such a manner as to retain the de- 
 posit of the spring tides, I refer the reader to the head 
 Warping, under the article Agriculture, in the Edinburgh En- 
 cyclopaedia. On the banks of rivers where warping cannot 
 be practised, the methods which I have hinted at in the 
 text may, perhaps, be found useful in securing a part of 
 that fertilizing deposit which almost every overflowing river 
 leaves. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 —Every sluggish ditch, 
 
 And stagnant puddle, during summer heats, 
 Is bottomed with a fertilizing layer. P. 159« 
 
 " This (the cleaning out of ponds) is a part of husbandry 
 too much neglected by many farmers ; but advantage should 
 always be taken of it by a good husbandman, when he is 
 
 4 
 
NOTES ON AUGUST. 315 
 
 lucky enough to succeed a great sloven ; lor then he will 
 probably find all ponds, &c. full of rich mud. 
 
 " It is improbable that pond mud, especially if there is a 
 stream into the water, should ever fail of proving a good 
 manure, when judiciously used." — Young's Farmers Calen- 
 dar. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Britannia, to thy richest treasures blind, 
 Treasures that team in river, frith, and sea, — 
 Why sleep thy laws? P. 16 1. 
 
 The theme of the British, and especially the Scottish fish- 
 eries, though thoroughly hacknied, is nevertheless a most 
 important one. It is not the less important, that the opi- 
 nions of writers on political economy, and the firm convic- 
 tion of the people at large, have produced little else than 
 neglect on the part of Government, or, what is worse, a mix- 
 ture of wise and foolish regulations, in which the foolish 
 greatly preponderate. The most neglected spot of the Bri- 
 tish dominions is the Shetland and Orkney isles. For a de- 
 scription of the miserable and grinding vassalage under 
 which the inhabitants (who are almost all fishermen) of these 
 islands exist, I refer the reader to a Tour through some of 
 these islands by Mr Patrick Neill. In this little book, which 
 was violently, but impotently, attacked by some of the 
 
316 NOTES ON AUGUST." 
 
 Shetland landholders, or rather slave-holders, there is a great 
 deal of useful information, to which it would be well if some 
 attention were paid by those who have the power to rectify 
 abuses. While the conquest of a pestilential island on the 
 other side of the Atlantic costs the nation thousands of 
 lives, and millions of money, the northern and western islands 
 of Scotland, which are demonstrated to be encircled with a 
 rich and inexhaustible mine of national wealth and strength, 
 lie almost neglected. The sums applied out of the prices 
 of the forfeited estates, towards the improvement of the 
 fisheries, are a mere sprinkling, a drop in the bucket. To do 
 any good, extensive tracts of the islands aid of the shores 
 of the Highland mainland, ought to be purchased by Go- 
 vernment, on the same principles, and according to the same 
 regulations, as lands are purchased for canals or roads. These 
 domains ought to be parcelled out in small portions of two 
 or three acres, more or less according to the quality of the 
 ground ; a small house should be erected on each parcel, 
 and these little properties should be given in perpetuity to 
 tenants or cottars, who have been turned out of their pos- 
 sessions. The way to make the seas productive is to make 
 the shores populous, and for this purpose nothing can be so 
 effectual as encouraging settlers with a gift of land. All 
 other bounties are useless. If some such plan had been 
 adopted twenty years ago, the miserable exiles from the 
 Highlands and islands, instead of being under the necessity 
 of transporting themselves to America, or indenting them- 
 selves at Cottonmills, would have been covering the shores 
 of their native country with a happy and virtuous popula- 
 
NOTES ON AUGUST. 
 
 317 
 
 tion. As to expence, the cost of one of our expeditions 
 would have defrayed it ten times over. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 How sweety o'er Scotia's hill-encircled seas. — P. l6l. 
 
 ** Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode, 
 To his hills that encircle the sea." 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 
NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 . -While they draxv, 
 
 Close to the ground, the sickle, $c. — P. 167- 
 
 The advantage of cutting close is obvious ; but the extent 
 of the advantage is not always duly estimated. An inch is 
 the 24th part of a stalk two feet in height. Of course, every 
 inch that is saved by close cutting adds on a field (the stalk 
 of which is, on an average, two feet in height), a 24th part 
 more straw. Three inches saved would make an addition 
 of one threave in eight. Besides, the lower part of the 
 stalk is the thickest, as well as the most succulent. 
 
NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 319 
 
 Note II. 
 A row of forked stakes draw cross the field, #c. — P. 170. 
 
 In the Highlands, where the rain sometimes falls without 
 intermission for a fortnight or three weeks, drying-houses, 
 like those at Inveraray, may be useful. But wherever there 
 are fair intervals now and then, the process of drying may 
 be performed more effectually, rapidly, and cheaply, in the 
 open air, than in drying-houses. It is obvious, that in any 
 house, however open it may be laterally, though the cur- 
 rent of air passing through it may seem to be more violent 
 than the wind on the outside, yet, as the corn placed in it 
 must be completely covered by the roof, the evaporation 
 cannot be there so quick as in the open air. In a drying- 
 house, completely roofed, and partially covered at the sides, 
 sifting winds will be felt ; but under the canopy of the sky, 
 where the evaporating moisture is carried off upward as well 
 as horizontally, an hour of fair weather will do more to dry 
 a sheaf of corn, than two hours of the sifting winds of a dry- 
 ing-house. As to the expence of the mode of suspending 
 the sheaves in the open air, there can be no doubt that it 
 would be very trifling. 
 
320 NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 •O grand emprize ! generous boon ! 
 
 That little book to Scotia's farthest isles, 
 
 In each low cottage, comfort speaks and peace. — P. 172. 
 
 The translation of the Bible into the Gaelic language is a 
 work which does honour to the present age ; and yet the 
 undertaking appears at one time to have been opposed by 
 some of the members of the Society for the Propagation of 
 the Gospel. The spirit which must have dictated this op- 
 position, and which still opposes the diffusion of the means 
 of knowledge to the lower orders of society, is so admirably 
 exposed by Dr Johnson, in a letter recorded by Mr Bos- 
 well, that I will here quote it. " It is addressed (Mr Bos- 
 well mentions) to the late Mr William Drummond, book- 
 seller in Edinburgh, a gentleman of good family but small 
 estate, who took arms for the house of Stuart in 1745; and 
 during his concealment in London, till the act of general 
 pardon came out, obtained the acquaintance of Dr John- 
 son, who justly esteemed him as a very worthy man/' It is 
 as follows : 
 
 « Sir — I did not expect to hear that it could be, in an 
 assembly convened for the propagation of Christian know- 
 ledge, a question, Whether any nation, uninstructed in reli- 
 gion, should receive instruction; or, whether that instruc- 
 
NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 321 
 
 tion should be imparted to them by a translation of the 
 holy books into their own language. If obedience to the 
 will of God be necessary to happiness, and knowledge of 
 his will be necessary to obedience, I know not how he that 
 withholds this knowledge, or delays it, can be said to love 
 his neighbour as himself. He, that voluntarily continues 
 ignorance, is guilty of all the crimes which ignorance pro- 
 duces ; as to him, that should extinguish the tapers of a 
 lighthouse, might justly be imputed the calamities of ship- 
 wrecks. Christianity is the highest perfection of humani- 
 ty ; and as no man is good but as he wishes the good of 
 others, no man can be good in the highest degree, who 
 wishes not to others the largest measure of the greatest 
 good. To omit for a year, or for a day, the most efficaci- 
 ous method of advancing Christianity, in compliance with 
 any purposes that terminate on this side of the grave, is a 
 crime of which I know not that the world has yet had an 
 example, except in the practice of the planters of America, 
 a race of mortals whom, I suppose, no other man wishes to 
 resemble. 
 
 " The papists have indeed denied to the laity the use of 
 the Bible ; but this prohibition, in few places now very ri- 
 gorously enforced, is defended by arguments which have 
 for their foundation the care of souls. To obscure, upon 
 motives merely political, the light of revelation, is a prac- 
 tice reserved for the reformed ; and surely the blackest mid- 
 night of popery is meridian sunshine to such a reformation. 
 I am not very willing that any language should be totally 
 extinguished. The similitude and derivation of languages 
 
 2 s 
 
322 NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 
 
 afford the most indubitable proof of the traduction of na- 
 tions and the genealogy of mankind. They add often phy- 
 sical certainty to historical evidence ; and often supply the 
 only evidence of ancient migrations, and of the revolutions 
 of ages which left no written monuments behind them. 
 
 " Every man's opinions, at least his desires, are a little 
 influenced by his favourite studies. My zeal for languages 
 may seem, perhaps, rather overheated, even to those by 
 whom I desire to be well esteemed. To those who have 
 nothing in their thoughts but trade or policy, present power, 
 or present money, I should not think it necessary to defend 
 my opinions ; but with men of letters I would not unwillingly 
 compound, by wishing the continuance of every language, 
 however narrow in its extent, or however uncommodious for 
 common purposes, till it is reposited in some version of a known 
 book, that it may be always hereafter examined and compared 
 with other languages, and then permitting its disuse. For 
 this purpose the translation of the Bible is most to be desired. 
 It is not certain that the same method will not preserve the 
 Highland language, for the purposes of learning, and abo- 
 lish it from daily use. When the Highlanders read the 
 Bible, they will naturally wish to have its obscurities clear- 
 ed, and to know the history collateral or appendant. Know- 
 ledge always desires increase; it is like fire, which must first 
 be kindled by some external agent, but which will after- 
 wards propagate itself. When they once desire to learn, 
 they will naturally have recourse to the nearest language by 
 which that desire can be gratified ; and one will tell another,, 
 that, if he would attain knowledge, he must learn English. 
 
NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 323 
 
 " This speculation may perhaps be thought more subtle 
 than the grossness of real life will easily admit. Let it, how- 
 eve?-, be remembered, that the efficacy of ignorance has been long 
 tried, and has not produced the consequence expected. Let 
 knowledge therefore take its turn ; and let the patrons of pri- 
 vation stand awhile aside, and admit the operation of positive 
 principles. 
 
 " You will be pleased, sir, to assure the worthy man who 
 is employed in the new translation, that he has my wishes 
 for his success ; and if here, or at Oxford, I can be of any 
 use, that I shall think it more than honour to promote his 
 undertaking. I am, &c." 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBER. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 How ceaseless is the round 
 
 Of rural labour ! soon as on the field, #c— P. 187. 
 
 Redit agricolis labor actus in orbem, 
 
 Atque in se sua per vestigia volyitur annus." 
 
 Georg. IV. 1. 101. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 The bristling piny tribes, fyc. P. 192. 
 
 I have heard people talk of the foliage of the pine. Now 
 to me it seems as absurd to give the prickles (or, as children 
 very properly term them, the needles and pins,) of fir-trees 
 the name of leaves, as it would be to call the tops or cones, 
 fruit. These prickles are, to be sure, all that the pine has 
 for leaves ; but that does not make them leaves. Some 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBER. 325 
 
 African birds are covered entirely with hair; yet no one 
 ever thought of calling that hair feathers. For my own 
 part, I think it would not be more absurd to talk of the 
 plumage on the back of a hog, than it is to say that the 
 branches of pines are clothed with foliage. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Draw them in rows along the bounding line. — P. 1Q3. 
 
 A hedge of closely planted firs is an excellent weather- 
 fence for young plantations of white wood trees. It is from 
 the lateral force of the wind that young trees require to be 
 protected. The freer they are all above, so much the better. 
 In large plantations, that are much exposed, bounding 
 hedges of firs will not be sufficient. Crossing rows here and 
 there may be necessary. Such rows do all that is necessary 
 for sheltering plantations, while they have no tendency to 
 stifle the trees of slower growth. It may here be observed, 
 that a tree which has been marred or dwarfed in its growth, 
 by being overtopped by other trees, very seldom recovers 
 its health. It remains a poor ill-thriven plant. 
 
326 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 •Improvers, some there are, 
 
 Enamoured of deformity and gloom, 
 
 Who strangely deem they beautify the land 
 
 By planting woods of pine. — P. 194. 
 
 To persons infected with the mania for pines, the follow- 
 ing observations, by one of the best judges of picturesque 
 beauty, may be of use : 
 
 " The trees which principally shewed themselves were 
 larches ; and, from the multitude of their sharp points, the 
 whole country appeared en herisson, and had much the 
 same degree of resemblance to natural scenery, that one of 
 the old military plans, with scattered platoons of spearmen, 
 has to a print after Claude or Poussin. 
 
 " A planter wishes very naturally to produce some ap- 
 pearance of wood as soon as possible : He therefore sets his 
 trees very close together ; and so they generally remain, for 
 his paternal fondness will seldom allow him to thin them 
 sufficiently. They are consequently all drawn up together, 
 nearly to the same height ; and, as their heads touch each 
 other, no variety, no distinction of form, can exist, but the 
 whole is one enormous, unbroken, unvaried mass of black. 
 Its appearance is so uniformly dead and heavy, that instead 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBER. 327 
 
 of those cheering ideas, which arise from the fresh and lux- 
 uriant foliage, and the lighter tints of deciduous trees, it has 
 something of that dreary image, that extinction of form and 
 colour, which Milton felt from blindness ; when he, who 
 had viewed objects with a painter's eye, as he described 
 
 them with a poet's fire, was 
 
 » 
 
 " Presented with an universal blank 
 Of Nature's works." 
 
 " It must be considered also, that the eye feels an im- 
 pression from objects analogous to that of weight, as ap- 
 pears from the expression, a heavy colour, a heavy form ; 
 hence arises the necessity, in all landscapes, of preserving 
 a proper balance of both ; and this is a very principal part 
 of the art of painting. If, in a picture, the one half were to 
 be light and airy, both in the forms and in the tints, and the 
 other half one black heavy lump, the most ignorant per- 
 son would probably be displeased (though he might not 
 know upon what principle) with the want of balance, and of 
 harmony ; for those harsh discordant effects not only act 
 more forcibly from being brought together within a small 
 compass, but also because, in painting, they are not autho- 
 rised by fashion, or rendered familiar by custom." 
 
 Price's Essay on the Picturesque. 
 
328 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 And, with their poisonous drop, the primrose wanr, §c. — P. 194. 
 
 " The inside of these plantations fully answers to the dreary 
 appearance of the outside. Of all dismal scenes, it seems 
 to me the most likely for a man to hang himself in : he 
 would, however, find some difficulty in the execution ; for, 
 amidst the endless multitude of stems, there is rarely a 
 single side-branch to which a rope could be fastened. The 
 whole wood is a collection of tall naked poles, with a few 
 ragged boughs near the top :— above, one uniform rusty 
 cope, seen through decayed and decaying sprays and 
 branches ; — below, the soil parched and blasted with the bale- 
 ful droppings ; hardly a plant or a blade of grass ; nothing 
 that can give an idea of life or vegetation. Even its gloom is 
 without solemnity; it is only dull and dismal, and what 
 light there is, like that of hell, 
 
 " Serves only to discover scenes of woe, 
 Regions of sorrow, doleful shades." 
 
 Price. 
 
 TI 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBER. 329 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 -The alder, too, prefers 
 
 A station dank. — P. 196. 
 
 " There are a sort of husbands who take excessive pain 
 in stubbing up their alders, wherever they meet them 
 in the boggy places of their ground, with the same indigna- 
 tion as one would extirpate the most pernicious of weeds ; 
 and when they have finished, know not how to convert their 
 best lands to more profit than this (seeming despicable) 
 plant might lead them to, were it rightly understood/' 
 
 Evelyn on Forest Trees, p. 99. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 No tree bears transplantation like the elm. P. 196. 
 
 " Of all the trees which grow in our woods, there is none 
 that does better suffer the transplantation than the elm ; for 
 you may remove a tree of twenty years growth with un- 
 doubted success/' — Evelyn. 
 
 In transplantation, it is of great importance that the tree 
 be placed precisely in the situation, with respect to the 
 
 2 T 
 
330 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 
 
 points of the compass, in which it stood before it was re- 
 moved. This rule is spoken of by Lord Karnes, as proved 
 by experience to be useless. I would trust, however, as. 
 much to Virgil's opinion on trees, as to that of Lord Kames, 
 especially as he assigns a good reason for the rule : 
 
 fe Quinetiam cceli regionem in cortice signant, 
 Ut quo quseque modo steterit, qua parte c&lores 
 Austrinos tulerit, quae terga oberterit axi, 
 Kestituant: adeo in teneris consuescere multum est." 
 
 Georg. II. 1. 272. 
 
 " Beside, to plant it as it was, they mark 
 
 The heavens' four quarters in the tender bark j, ,/ t • 
 
 And to the north or south restore the side, 
 
 Which at their birth did heat or cold abide : 
 
 So strong is custom ; such effects can use 
 
 In tender souls of pliant plants produce." 
 
 Dryden's Translation* 
 
 It is true that Virgil is here treating of vines ; but the rea- 
 son of the thing is equally applicable to other trees ; and 
 the practice as to trees in general is supported by the high 
 authority of Evelyn a 
 
 " For as the southern parts being more dilated, and the 
 pores exposed (as evidently appears in their horizontal sec- 
 tions) by the constant eccentricity of the hyperbolical circles 
 of all trees, (save just under the equator, where the circles 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBER. 331 
 
 concentre, as we find in those hard woods which grow there) 
 ours, being now on the sudden, and at such a season con- 
 verted to the north, does starve and destroy more trees (how 
 careful soever men have been in ordering the roots, and pre- 
 paring the ground,) than any other accident whatsoever, 
 neglect of staking and defending from cattle excepted."— 
 
 Evelyn, p. 31. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 And now they hear the woodland harvest home, 
 And store it up for blythesome Halloween. — P. 199. 
 
 I hope I shall not be accused of presumption, in touching 
 on a subject already so admirably and so fully treated by 
 Burns. I conceived that a poem, partly descriptive of rural 
 manners, would have been materially defective, without 
 some notice of Halloween ; and I am little moved by that 
 sort of pride which shrinks from a contrast with unrivalled 
 excellence. I pretend not to enter the lists with Burns ; 
 but I do not consider, as sacred and unapproachable ground, 
 every scene which he has immortalized in his poetic lands- 
 capes. 
 
 10 
 
332 - STOTE& ON OCTOBER. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 A few dim candles in derision shine 
 
 Of Romish rites, now happily forgot. — P. 200. 
 
 Dr Jamieson traces the superstitious observances of Hal- 
 loween to a heathen origin ; and I agree with him to a cer- 
 tain extent. At the same time, I have no doubt that the 
 particular custom adverted to in the text, was intended as 
 a piece of mockery of those Romish processions by torch 
 and candle light, which the first reformers used every me- 
 thod to ridicule. On this subject, the tradition of the west 
 of Scotland is universal and explicit ; and it will be observed 
 that the period to which this tradition relates is not very re- 
 mote*. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 Then round the fire, full many a cottage ring 
 Cheerful convenes, to burn the boding nuts. P. 200. 
 
 w Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the 
 lass and the lad to each particular nut, as they lay them on 
 the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or 
 start from beside one another, the course and issue of the 
 courtship will be/' — Notes to Burns's Halloween. 
 
NOTES ON OCTOBEK. 333 
 
 Note XL 
 
 Plunging, to catch the floating fruit, that still 
 Eludes the attempt. P. 201. 
 
 Ducking to catch an apple floating in water, produces 
 much unsuccessful and ludicrous stretching of the jaws. 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 -Nor is the triple spell 
 
 Of dishes, ranged to cheat the groping hand, 
 Forgot. P. 201. 
 
 " Take three dishes ; put clean water in one, foul water 
 in another, and leave the third empty : blindfold a person, 
 and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged ; he 
 (or she) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean wa- 
 ter, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of ma- 
 trimony a maid ; if in the foul, a widow ; if in the empty 
 dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. 
 It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement 
 of the dishes is altered." — Notes to Halloween. 
 
334 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 
 
 The following stanza, descriptive of this custom, places 
 before the mind, not merely the facts as they happen, but 
 the looks, gestures, and feelings of the actor : 
 
 In order, on the clean hearth-stane, 
 
 The luggies three are ranged, 
 And ev'ry time great care is ta'en, 
 
 To see them duly changed : 
 Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys 
 
 Sin' Mar's year did desire, 
 Because he gat the toom dish thrice, 
 
 He heaved them on the fire 
 
 In wrath that night, 
 
NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 -But beware 
 
 Of clipping close the fetlock— P. 208. 
 
 It is strange how far the docking, shaving, paring, and 
 clipping system is carried. While it is confined to the- 
 mane, the ears, or even the tail, it is of minor consequence; 
 but when Art comes to make alterations on the legs or feet 
 of a horse, she ought to proceed with caution. The old 
 mode of over-paring the hoofs is now exploded ; but the 
 practice of clipping the fetlock is still in full vigour with re- 
 spect to coach-horses. Indeed the whole pastern joint round 
 and round is clipped close to the skin. The consequence 
 is that the skin is exposed to the actual contact of the mud 
 and clay. Now every one knows how much clay, or any 
 other adhesive substance, frets and irritates the skin. Any 
 adhesive substance drying and encrusting on the skin, is in 
 
336 NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 
 
 fact a kind of blister. It may not, indeed, raise the cuticle, 
 but it certainly produces soreness and scabs. It lias, besides, 
 the effect of converting the hairs into bristles ; the conse- 
 quence of which is, that every time the heels are rubbed the 
 roots of the hair act as a kind of prickles on the most sensi- 
 tive part of the frame, viz. the sub-cuticle. In short, the 
 very important office which the skin performs is marred, and 
 the consequence generally is greasy and swelled heels. 
 
 But the actual application of the shears to the joint is 
 seldom confined to the hair. Careless or drunken grooms 
 generally contrive to take in, now and then, a bit of the 
 skin. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 The reeling compass. — P. 212. 
 
 That, in thunder storms, the compass sometimes loses its 
 polarity, is a well known fact. 
 
NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 333 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Hence Irrigations power at first was learnt ; 
 A custom ancient, yet but rarely used 
 In cold and watery climes. — P. 214. 
 
 The practice of irrigation is very ancient, and seems not 
 to have been confined to grass-fields, or rather it seems to 
 have been confined to corn-fields : 
 
 " Deinde satis * fluvium indueifc rivosque sequentes ;■ 
 Et quum exustus ager morientibus sestuat herbis, 
 Ecce, supercilio clivosi tramitis undam 
 Elicit : ilia cadens raucum per levia murmur 
 Saxa ciet, scatebrisque arentia temperat arva." 
 
 Georg. 1. 1, 1 10. 
 
 The immense benefit to be derived from irrigation, com- 
 pared with the cost and trouble, is very succinctly pointed 
 out by Mr Singers, in his report made to the Highland So- 
 ciety concerning the watered meadows on or near the rivers 
 Esk,. Ewes, &c. from which the following are extracts : 
 
 " If the changes incurred, in the mechanical department 
 of the formation of all these meadows, be stated at five 
 
 * Among the ancients the word sata never signified fields sown with grass. 
 
 2 U 
 
334 NOTES ON NOVEMBER. * 
 
 pounds per acre, it is probably not far from the average. 
 There have been some which have risen to seven pounds, 
 when there was much cart and spade work to do; while 
 others have been laid out at a very low rate. 
 
 " The annual returns at present may be safely estimated 
 at 150 stone of hay, of 24 lib. avoirdupois in the stone, for 
 every English acre of meadow. Some of them rise above 
 200 stone, and others fall as low as 100 stone, or even less, 
 being as yet unproductive, in consequence of unfavourable 
 circumstances. But the average return probably rises above. 
 It must be remembered, however, that the returns of these 
 meadows do not consist wholly of hay. I am disposed to 
 think, that the returns in pasture, exclusive of the hay, do 
 not in general fall short of the full value of the soil in its ori- 
 ginal unimproved state." 
 
 " The annual expences incurred in keeping up the works 
 on these meadows, may be considered, at an average, about 
 5s. per acre/' 
 
 " The expence of laying out and inclosing these meadows 
 is the principal obstacle. But when this expence is mode- 
 rate, and the meadow succeeds well, a single year's crop, 
 almost, or entirely, defrays the charges. When matters are 
 less favourable, they may still be liquidated in two or three 
 seasons. And when the expence is very low, the first year 
 more than pays it ; as must have been the case in various 
 instances, where these meadows were done in catch-work, 
 and succeeded well. But if the forming and inclosing should 
 not be fully compensated in less than four or five years, 
 
NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 335 
 
 there is reason still to expect that the tenant will be reim- 
 bursed. 
 
 " The attention which becomes necessary to the watered 
 meadows in upholding them, and conducting the watering 
 process, is mentioned as an incumbrance. I admit the fact, 
 but what does the farmer obtain without attention ? Let 
 him consider the pains and trouble he must undergo in ma- 
 nuring, fallowing, sowing, and reaping, from arable soils ; 
 and in preserving and bringing into use the respective crops 
 which he raises from them. But with respect to watered 
 meadows, if a few of them are situated contiguous to each 
 other, a common labourer, employed to uphold and water 
 them all, effectually removes this difficulty ; and in other 
 cases, a common farm-servant will very soon learn to attend 
 to the ordinary matters that require his notice/' 
 
 " But the profit (says Arthur Young,) of irrigating dry 
 slopes of sand and gravel, &c. and poor dry ling moors, is 
 immense. The expence is comparatively trifling, and the 
 improvement beyond conception. Such lands may be rais- 
 ed from 2s. or 3s. an acre, to 40s. or 50s/' 
 
 - Farmer's Callendar. 
 
336 NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 Some level fields, through all the winter months, 
 Are covered warmly with a watery sheet. — P. 218. 
 
 " In this month you begin to winter-water the meadows 
 and pastures wherever it can be done ; and be assured that 
 no improvement will pay better : a winter's watering will an- 
 swer in the hay fully equal to a common manuring of the 
 best stuff you can lay on the land ; and the expence in some 
 situations is trifling/' 
 
 " It is necessary, however, every ten days or fortnight, to 
 give the land air, and to lay it as dry as possible, for the 
 space of a few days. Whenever the frost has given a com- 
 plete sheet of ice to a meadow, it is adviseable to disconti- 
 nue floating, for the frost will sometimes take such strong 
 hold of the land as to draw it into heaps, and' injure the even- 
 ness of the surface/' — Young's Farmer s Callendar. 
 
NOTES ON DECEMBER. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Foes of the insect race, through every change, 
 The embryotic egg, fyc— P. 227. 
 
 " Most of the smaller birds are supported, especially when 
 young, by a profusion of caterpillars, small worms, and in- 
 sects, with which every part of the vegetable world abounds ; 
 which is by this means preserved from total destruction, con- 
 trary to the commonly received opinion, that birds, particu- 
 larly sparrows, do much mischief in destroying the labours 
 of the gardener and the husbandman. It has been obser- 
 ved, ' that a single pair of sparrows, during the time they are 
 feeding their young, will destroy about four thousand cater- 
 pillars weekly ; they likewise feed their young with butter- 
 flies and other winged insects, each of which, if not destroy- 
 ed in this manner, would be productive of several hundreds 
 of caterpillars/ Swallows are almost continually upon the 
 
S38 NOTES ON DECEMBER. 
 
 wing, and, in their curious winding flights, destroy immense 
 quantities of flies and other insects, which are continually 
 floating in the air, and which, if not destroyed by these 
 birds, would render it unfit for the purposes of life and 
 health. That active little bird, the tomtit, which is gene- 
 rally supposed hostile to the young and tender buds that 
 appear in the spring, when attentively observed, may be 
 seen running up and down amongst the branches, and pick- 
 ing the small worms that are concealed in the blossoms, and 
 which would effectually destroy the fruit. As the season 
 advances, various other small birds, such as the redbreast, 
 wren, winter fauvette or hedge-sparrow, white-throat, red- 
 start, &c. are all engaged in the same useful work, and may 
 be observed examining every leaf, and feeding upon the in- 
 sects which they find beneath them. .These are a few in- 
 stances of that superintending providential care, which is 
 continually exerted in preserving the various ranks and or- 
 ders of beings in the scale of animated nature ; and although 
 it is permitted that myriads of individuals should every mo- 
 ment be destroyed, not a single species is lost, but every 
 link of the great chain remains unbroken." — Bewick. 
 
NOTES ON AUGUST. 339 
 
 Note II. 
 
 Who see their halls with happy faces thronged, 
 The rich, the poor, the old and young, all joined 
 In social harmony. — P. 233. 
 
 " Then opened wide the baron's hall, 
 To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
 Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
 And Ceremony doffed his pride." 
 
 " All hailed with uncontrolled delight, 
 And general voice the happy night, 
 That to the cottage, as the crown, 
 Brought tidings of salvation down. 
 
 The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
 Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 
 The huge hall-table's oaken face, 
 Scrubbed till it shone the day to grace, 
 Bore then upon its massive board, 
 No mark to part the squire and lord." 
 
 Mabmion. Introd. to Canto VI. 
 
340 NOTES ON DECEMBER. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Of all the festive nights which customs old, 
 
 And waning fast, have made the poor man's own, 
 
 The merriest of them all is Hoggmanay* — P. 233» 
 
 In Scotland the last night of the year is called Hogmanay, 
 most frequently pronounced hockmanay. For an ingenious 
 account of the origin of this name, see Dr Jamiesoris Dic- 
 tionary. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 ■No dread is now 
 
 Of walking wraith, or witch, or cantrip fell.— -P. 234. 
 
 u 
 
 Wraith, properly an apparition in the exact likeness of a 
 person ; supposed by the vulgar to be seen before or soon 
 after death." — Jamie son. 
 
 " Cantrip, a charm, aspell, an incantation/' — Jamieson. 
 
 8 
 
 
NOTES ON DECEMBER. 341 
 
 Note V. 
 
 With smutted visages, from house to house, ' 
 In country and in town, the guisarts range. — P. 234. 
 
 u 
 
 Gyser, gysard, a harlequin ; a term applied to those who 
 disguise themselves about the time of the new year."— Ja- 
 mieson. 
 
 " Whan gloamin gray comes from the east, 
 
 Through a' the gysarts venture, 
 
 In sarks and paper helmets drest." Nkol's Poems. 
 
 " The custom of disguising now remains only among boys 
 and girls, some of whom wear marks, and others blacken 
 their faces with soot. They go from door to door, singing 
 carols that have some relation to the season, and asking 
 money or bread, superior in quality to that used on ordinary 
 occasions. " — Jamieson. 
 
 On first coming to a door, they cry or chaunt, 
 
 Hogmenay Trololay, 
 Give us your white bread, 
 And none of your gray. 
 
 2 x 
 
342 
 
 NOTES ON" DECEMBER- 
 
 Note-VI. 
 
 And sing their madrigals, though coarse and rude, 
 With willing glee, that penetrates the heart. P. 235. 
 
 " Then came the merry masquers in, 
 And carols roared with blythesome din; 
 If unmelodious was the song, 
 It was a hearty note and strong. 
 Who lists may in their mumming see 
 Traces of ancient-mystery ; 
 White shirts supplied the masquerade, 
 And smutted cheeks the visors made." 
 
 Marmion, Introd, to Canto PI. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Edinburgh: 
 Printed by James Ballantyne & C». 
 
 

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