Rule of Health for May.
The month of May is called a “trying” month, to persons long ailing with critical complaints. It is common to say, “Ah, he’ll never get up May-hill!” or, “If he can climb over May-hill he’ll do.” “As a rule of health for May,” says Dr. Forster, “we may advise early rising in particular, as being essentially conducive to that blessing. Every thing now invites the sluggard to leave his bed and go abroad. Milton has given such a lively description of morning scenes as must rouse every lover of the country from his couch:—
Lines from l’Allegro
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing, startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet-brier, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin;
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before.
Oft listening now the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking, not unseen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate
Where the great sun begins his state,
Robed in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o’er the furrow’d land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his sithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast,
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pide,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
MANNERS IN IRELAND.
Not as a picture of general manners, but as sketches of particular characters in certain parts of Ireland, the following anecdotes are extracted from one of the “Letters from the Irish Highlands,” dated in May, 1823.
“In the same spirit, the pleasures of the table are but too often shared by the gentlemen of the country with those who are very much their inferiors, both in birth and fortune. The lowest and most degrading debauchery must be the natural consequence, and here I must not forget an anecdote which will at once illustrate this, and also make you acquainted with a childish superstition, with which it is a frequent practice of all ranks to combat this pernicious vice, encouraged by their indolent manner of life, and by the former facility of procuring smuggled liquors. A gentleman, whose rental at one time amounted to 10,000l. per annum, and who was in the constant habits of intoxication, took an oath to drink nothing after the cloth was removed; but, unable to comply with the spirit, he soon contented himself with adhering to the letter of this rash vow, and, keeping the cloth on table after dinner was over, could drink all night without fear of infringing it. He then swore not to drink in his dining-parlour, but again as easily evaded his engagement, by adjourning to the next apartment; in the next apartment, however, on some fresh qualms of conscience, the vow was renewed; and so, in each room successively, until he fairly swore himself out of the house. He then took refuge in the summer-house of his garden, and there used to dine and drink daily; till, rashly renewing his vow here also, he was reduced to find a new subterfuge by taking lodgings in a neighbouring town.
“This story reminds me of a circumstance which has taken place within these few days, and in which the chief actor was one of the remaining branches of a numerous family, among the second-rate gentry, who are here distinguished by the title of buckeens. Originally supported in a state of comparative ease and indulgence, partly by their share in the contraband trade, partly by their close connection and alliance with the principal families in the country, their incomes have gradually sunk with the change of circumstances, which has, in a great measure, dissolved this ancient bond of fellowship, as well as destroyed their more illegitimate sources of revenue. Many of these, without seeking employment for themselves, or education for their children, still cling to customs which have now passed away; and, when reduced almost to a state of mendicity, continue their former boast of being ‘gentlemen.’
“A puncheon of spirits lately came ashore, and fell to the share of the individual above mentioned. It was too large to be got in at the door of his house; he therefore pulled part of the wall down; still, however, it stuck half way. His small stock of patience could last no longer; he tapped the end that was within, and he and his wife, with their servant, soon became completely intoxicated. His neighbours, aware of this, tapped the cask at the other end, and the next day, when this worthy personage would have taken his morning, he found the cask completely emptied!”