“Then there was the Solar year, calculated by the sun; and it and the Lunar year agreed so badly that every three years another lunar month had to be counted in to keep the one from running away from the other. Now, I suppose you all think,” looking at the group around the fireside, “that all these years began the first of January and ended the thirty-first of December?”
“It is but just that they should,” said old Forbes, Caleb disdaining to speak.
“But they didn’t,” said Simon. “The Jews began their year in March; in Greece it began in June, and certain Eastern Christians began theirs in August.”
“That isn’t England,” said Caleb, in a tone of contempt.
“Truly not,” said Simon; “but the English year used to begin the twenty-fifth of December, until the coronation of William the Conqueror—when was that, Phœbe?”
“In 1066,” said Phœbe, smoothing her teacher’s ruffles with the air of a petted and privileged child.
“It was January the first, 1066,” resumed Simon; “and it was judged so important an event that it was ordered that ever after the year should begin on that day. But I can tell you worse than that of England. There are places in England to-day, where they reckon their year from the twenty-fifth of March!
“But long before William’s time,” he continued, “the Romans had ideas, and they thought it wise to straighten up the year for their own use. So Julius Cæsar—when did he begin to reign, Phœbe?”
“I don’t know,” said she.
“In 63, B. C.” said Roger, eagerly.