The Mean Temperature of the month, if the observations in this city be included, is 36·34°. But this mean has a range, in ten years, of about 10·25°, which may be termed the lunar variation of the temperature. It holds equally in the decade, beginning with 1797, observed in London, and in that beginning with 1807, in the country. In the former decade, the month was coldest in 1802, and warmest in 1812, and coldest in 1814. I have likewise shown, that there was a tendency in the daily variation of temperature through this month, to proceed, in these respective periods of years, in opposite directions. The prevalence of different classes of winds, in the different periods, is the most obvious cause of these periodical variations of the mean temperature.
The Barometer in this month rises, on an average of ten years, to 30·40 in., and falls to 28·97 in.: the mean range is therefore 1·43 in.; but the extreme range in ten years is 2·38 in. The mean height for the month is about 29·79 inches.
The prevailing Winds are the class from west to north. The northerly predominate, by a fourth of their amount, over the southerly winds.
The average Evaporation (on a total of 30·50 inches for the year) is 0·832 in., and the mean of De Luc’s hydrometer 80.
The mean Rain, at the surface of the earth, is 1·959 in.; and the number of days on which snow or rain falls, in this month, averages 14,4.
A majority of the Nights in this month have constantly the temperature at or below the foregoing point.[4]
Long ere the lingering dawn of that blythe morn
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 ear—the first-foot’s[5] 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,
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.
Grahame
[1] In vol. i. p. 2.