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When Reason staggers with the stroke of Pain,
And Superstition's spectres hover round;
While Frenzy sees red lightnings scathe the plain
That erst with Fancy's sweetest flowers was crowned;
Where shall the harassed wretch for succour fly?
Nor faith nor hope can now afford him aid;
For Vengeance waves her flaming falchion high,
And o'er the grave hangs Horror's baleful shade!
Blest Poppy! thou, surpassing every flower,

Afford'st a sovereign balm for this distressing hour.

FAUNA. The Harvest Bug Acarus ricinus, in this and the following month, proves a very troublesome and disagreeable insect; particularly in some of the southern counties of England. The best cure for the bite is hartshorn. Flies now abound, and torment both men and animals with their perpetual buzzing. Thus in Ariosto translated by Harrington:

So have I seene ere this a silly flie

With Mastif Dog in Summer's heate to play,
Sometime to sting him in his nose or eie,
Sometime about his grizly jawes to stay,
And buzzing round about his eares to flie,
He snaps in vaine, for still she whips away;
And oft so long she dallies in this sort,

Till one snap comes and marreth all her sport.

August 9. St. Romanus Martyr. St. Nathy or David

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Fiercer and fiercer blows the gust,
Burthened at once with rain and dust:
Breathless they scud, some helter skelter
To carriages, and some for shelter;
Lisping to coachmen drunk or dumb
In numbers-while no numbers come.
Nor sheds are near-nor open shops
Protect them from the "big round drops :"
Their sarsnets spoiled, their stockings splashed,
Their muslins prematurely washed;

Some in their clinging clothes so lank,

Others so bouncing, all so blank,

Enraged, resigned, in tears, or frowning,

Look as if just escaped from drowning;

While anxious thoughts pursue them home,
Whence their next Sunday's dress must come.
From T. T. 1821.

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COELUM. Something more than we have already recorded should be said of the rainy indications of certain ancient days in the Summer time. It is said that rain on St. John the Baptist, June 24, will be followed by forty days

rain; the same is said of rain on St. Swithin, July 15. Now as the rain entailed by a wet St. John the Baptist would merge St. Swithin in water, it would follow, according to this rule, that we should on such occasions have sixty rainy days. But the fact is that the description of this prognostic is imperfect, and should stand thus-If it begin to rain, instead of if it rain, on June 24 or July 15, &c. then it will rain from thence forty days. Thus the rain beginning about John the Baptist that is at Midsummer would cease about the 4th of August; and the wet weather ushered in by St. Swithin would end about the 25th of August. This explanation may render the rule more true than that ordinarily received, and agrees with the account of the causes of such rains given by Mr. Howard. Thus we may have either solstitial rains or aestival rains, or dry Summers, or dry Autumns, according to laws in the economy of the weather at present unravelled. In all kinds of seasons almost we are liable at this time of year to thunderstorms and sudden showers in all parts of Europe. We shall close today's account with

A Description of a City Shower, in imitation af Virgil's Georgics, 1710, by Swift.

Careful observers may foretell the hour

By sure prognostics when to dread a shower.
While rain depends, the pensive Cat gives o'er
Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the sink
Strike your offended sense with double stink.
If you be wise, then go not far to dine;
You'll spend in coachhire more than save in wine.
A coming shower your shooting corns presage,
Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage.
Sauntering in coffeehouse is Dulman seen;
He damns the climate, and complains of spleen.
Meanwhile the South, rising with dabbled wings,
A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That swilled more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope :
Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not so clean:
You fly, invoke the gods; then, turning, stop
To rail; she, singing, still whirls on her mop.
Not yet the dust had shunned the unequal strife,
But aided by the wind, fought still for life:
And, wafted with its foe by violent gust,

'Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was dust.
Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid,
When dust and rain at once his coat invade?
Sole coat! where dust cemented by the rain
Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain!

Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,
Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To shops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The templar spruce, while every spout 's abroach,
Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach.
The tucked up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oiled umbrella's sides.
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.
Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.
Boxed in a chair, the beau impatient sits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din

The leather sounds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed,
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through,
Laocoon struck the outside with his spear,
And each imprisoned hero quaked for fear.

Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filths of all hues and odours seem to tell

What street they sailed from by their sight and smell.
They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force,
From Smithfield or St. 'Pulchre's shape their course,
And in huge confluence joined at Snowhill ridge,
Fall from the conduit prone to Holborn bridge.

Sweepings from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and blood,
Drowned puppies, stinking sprats, all drenched in mud,
Dead cats, and turnip tops, come tumbling down the flood.

August 10. ST. LAURENCE Martyr. St. Deusdedit. St. Blaan Confessor.

rises at Iv. 33'. and sets at VII. 27'.

St. Lawrence was by birth a Spaniard, and treasurer of the church of Rome, being deacon to Pope Sextus about the year 259. Soon afterwards this bishop was killed by the soldiers of Valerian the emperor, with whom our saint would willingly have died. Lawrence refusing to deliver up the church treasure, which they imagined to be in his custody, he was laid upon a gridiron, and broiled over a fire. The celebrated palace of the Escurial is dedicated to this saint.

Opis et Cereris arae in vico Jugario.-Rom. Cal:

The Roman Calendar today records, as above specified, the altar of Ops and Ceres, that is, of the Earth and its

Harvest of Corn, which at this time of year are justly celebrated together.

COELUM. Small fiery meteors called Falling Stars are particularly common about this time of year, and frequently leave long trains of light behind them: this is usually a sign of wind, of which Virgil makes mention in his Georgics. Aratus also observes the same in his Diosemea :

Καὶ διὰ νυκτα μελαιναν ὅτ ̓ ἄσερες αΐσσωσι
Ταρφέα τοί δ ̓ ἔπιθεν ρυμοι
ὕπολευκαίνωνται

Δείδελθαι κείνοις αυτην οδον ἐρχομενοιο
ПIVEUμaтos, &c.-Arat. Dios. 107.

Saepe etiam stellas vento impendente videbis
Praecipites coelo labi noctisque per umbram
Flammarum longos tergo albescere tractus.

Georgic. lib. i. 365. There are three sorts of falling Stars: the most common kind prevail in frosty Winter nights, and in Summer also, when there are dry Easterly winds with a clear sky. They have very much of the appearance of the real stars, and have, probably from this circumstance, derived their vulgar name: they leave little or no train behind them, and shoot along in straight lines, generally obliquely downward, but sometimes horizontally.

The second kind are larger and more brilliant, and genenerally appear in warm Summer evenings, particularly when sunderclouds, waneclouds, and electric clouds abound: some of them are very beautiful, and give much light. They vary somewhat in colour and size. They have sometimes a

curvilinear motion.

The third sort are strikingly different from the two above mentioned; they are generally small and of a beautiful bluishwhite colour, but their peculiar characteristic is that of leaving long white trains behind them, which remain visible for some seconds in the tract in which the Meteors have gone. This kind of Meteors abounded on the night of 10th August, 1811, after a showery day. We have thought that their tails were the result rather of some gas set on fire by the Meteor in its passage, than of any of the luminous substance of the Meteor left behind.

When any kind of falling Stars appear, some feature of Wanecloud Cirrostratus, however small, may generally be seen about; but this does not appear to be always the case in Winter.

See Forster's Atmospheric Phenomena, 3d edit. p. 116. See also many accounts of them in Phil. Mag. June, 1821; also among the ancients, Arist. Meteor. lib. i. c. 4. Plin. H. N. lib. ii. cc. 4, 25, 36. Virg. Georg. lib. i. 365. Lucret.

de Rer. Nat. lib. ii. 206. lib. v. 1190. Senec. Nat. Quaest.

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Herculis magno Custodi in Circo.-Rom. Cal.

COELUM. The weather of this period is usually clear and fine, except in regular wet Summers.

A remarkable Vapour is recorded as having been seen ascending from an Elm tree this evening in 1805 at Clapton. We subjoin the following account of it:-" On Sunday evening, Aug. 11, 1805, I observed a very unusual exhalation from an Elm tree at Clapton, in the parish of Hackney, the particulars of which are as follow. Between six and seven o'clock in the afternoon, while sitting at tea, the sky being clear, and the weather warm and dry, and wind Southeast, we observed a column of darkish vapour which appeared to arise from the top of an Elm tree at some distance: it looked about two or three feet high. After it had continued a few seconds it disappeared; and, after a few seconds more, reappeared; and continued in this manner, on and off, for nearly half an hour, when it became too dark to distinguish it any longer. More particulars may be found in the Gent. Mag. for 1805, p. 816." Atmosph. Phenom. p. 123. See July 30.

About the 11th of August, the Puffin Alca Arctica migrates. Priestholme, or Puffin's Island, about three quarters of a mile from the Isle of Anglesea, abounds with these birds; and their flocks, for multitude, may be compared to a swarm of Bees.

FAUNA.-Moles become very injurious to the farmer and gardener at this time of year, by burrowing under ground, and destroying the roots in the earth. A gentleman who occupies a small farm called Scots in Essex, has employed the fine mould collected from numerous Molehills to make beds for Tulips, and it seems to be a plan likely to succeed.

"Wasps become, in this and the succeeding month, very annoying to us, not only in our rural walks, but in every part of the house; particularly at dinner, or afterwards during the dessert, where, worse than the harpies of old, not contented with sipping the nectar, and tasting the luxuries of the table, they not unfrequently reward the liberal host or bostess with their envenomed sting, and scare away the

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