of all vice is taken away. Men were created to move as birds to fly; what they learn by nature, that reason joined to nature teacheth us. Nothing can be added to the worthy praises of him, as the poet saith,

Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes.1

Who

many

men's manners hath seen,

And hath in many cities been.

In one word, I will say what can be said upon this subject. Every soil is to a valiant man his own country, as the sea to the fishes. We are citizens of the whole world, yea, not of this world, but of that to come. All our life is a pilgrimage. God for his only begotten Son's sake, the true Mercury of travelers, bring us that are here strangers safely into our true country.

1 Odyssey, I, 3.

NICHOLAS BRETON

[THE ENGLISH MONTHS]
(From Fantastics)

January

It is now January, and time begins to turn the wheel of his revolution. The woods begin to lose the beauty of their spreading boughs, and the proud oak must stoop to the axe. The squirrel now surveyeth the nut and the maple, and the hedgehog rolls up himself like a football. An apple and a nutmeg make a gossip's cup, and the ale and the faggot are the victualler's merchandise. The northern black dust is the during fuel, and the fruit of the grape heats the stomach of the aged. Down beds and quilted caps are now in the pride of their service, and the cook and the pantler are men of no mean office. The ox and the fat wether now furnish the market, and the coney is so ferreted that she cannot keep in her burrow. The currier1 and the lime-rod are the death of the fowl, and the falcon's bells ring the death of the mallard. The trotting gelding makes a way through the mire, and the hare and the hound put the huntsman to his horn. The barren doe subscribes to the dish, and the smallest seed makes sauce to the greatest flesh. The dried grass is the horse's ordinary, and the meal of the beans makes him go through with his travel. Fishermen now have a cold trade and travelers a foul journey. The cook room now is not the worst place in the ship, 1 A light used in catching birds.

and the shepherd hath a bleak seat on the mountain. The blackbird leaveth not a berry on the thorn, and the garden earth is turned up for her roots. The water floods run over the proud banks, and the gaping oyster leaves his shell in the streets, while the proud peacock leaps into the pie. Muscovia commodities are now much in request, and the water spaniel is a necessary servant. The load-horse to the mill hath his full back-burden, and the thresher in the barn tries the strength of his flail. The woodcock and the pheasant pay their lives for their feed, and the hare after a course makes his hearse in a pie. The shoulder of a hog is a shoeing-horn to good drink, and a cold alms makes a beggar shrug. To conclude, I hold it a time of little comfort, the rich man's charge and the poor man's misery. Farewell.

February

It is now February, and the sun is gotten up a cockstride of his climbing. The valleys now are painted white, and the brooks are full of water. The frog goes to seek out the paddock, and the crow and the rook begin to mislike their old makes. Forward coneys begin now to kindle, and the fat grounds are not without lambs. The gardener falls to sorting of his seeds, and the husbandman falls afresh to scouring of his ploughshare. The term-travelers make the shoemaker's harvest, and the chandler's cheese makes the chalk walk apace. The fishmonger sorts his ware against Lent, and a lamb-skin is good for a lame arm. The waters now alter the nature of their softness, and the soft earth is made stony hard. The air is sharp and piercing, and the winds blow cold. The taverns and the inns seldom lack guests, and the ostler knows how to gain by his hay. The hunting horse is at the heels of the hound, while the ambling nag carrieth the physician and his footcloth. The blood of

youth begins to spring, and the honor of art is gotten by exercise. The trees a little begin to bud, and the sap begins to rise up out of the root. Physic now hath work among weak bodies, and the apothecary's drugs are very gainful. There is hope of a better time not far off, for this in itself is little comfortable. And for the small

pleasure that I find in it, I will thus briefly conclude of it: it is the poor man's pick-purse and the miser's cutthroat, the enemy to pleasure and the time of patience. Farewell.

March

It is now March, and the northern wind drieth up the southern dirt. The tender lips are now masked for fear of chapping, and the fair hands must not be ungloved. Now riseth the sun a pretty step to his fair height, and Saint Valentine calls the birds together where nature is pleased in the variety of love. The fishes and frogs fall to their manner of generation, and the adder dies to bring forth her young The air is sharp, but the sun is comfortable and the hay begins to lengthen. The forward gardens give the fine sallets, and a nosegay of violets is a present for a lady. Now beginneth nature, as it were, to wake out of her sleep and send the traveler to survey the walks of the world. The sucking rabbit is good for weak stomachs, and the diet for the rheum doth many a great cure. The farrier now is the horse's physician, and the fat dog feeds the falcon in the mew. The tree begins to bud and the grass to peep abroad, while the thrush with the blackbird make a charm in the young springs. The milkmaid with her best-beloved talk away weariness to the market, and in an honest meaning kind words do no hurt. The football now trieth the legs of strength, and merry matches continue good-fellowship. It is a time of much work

and tedious to discourse of, but in all I find of it, I thus conclude in it: I hold it the servant of nature and the schoolmaster of art, the hope of labor and the subject of reason. Farewell.

April

It is now April, and the nightingale begins to tune her throat against May. The sunny showers perfume the air and the bees begin to go abroad for honey. The dew, as in pearls, hangs upon the tops of the grass, while the turtles sit billing upon the little green boughs. The trout begins to play in the brooks, and the salmon leaves the sea to play in the fresh waters. The garden-banks are full of gay flowers, and the thorn and the plum send forth their fair blossoms. The March colt begins to play, and the cosset lamb is learned to butt. The poets now make their studies in the woods, and the youth of the country make ready for the morris-dance. The little fishes lie nibbling at a bait, and the porpoise plays in the pride of the tide. The shepherd's pipe entertains the Princess of Arcadia, and the healthful soldier hath a pleasant march. The lark and the lamb look up at the sun, and the laborer is abroad by the dawning of the day. Sheep's eyes in lambs' heads tell kind hearts strange tales, while faith and troth make the true lover's knot. The aged hairs find a fresh life, and the youthful cheeks are as red as a cherry. It were a world to set down the worth of this month, but in sum, I thus conclude: I hold it the heaven's blessing and the earth's comfort. Farewell.

May

It is now May, and the sweetness of the air refresheth every spirit. The sunny beams bring forth fair blossoms, and the dripping clouds water Flora's great garden.