Part 41

NOVEMBER 1ST. (All Saints' Day.)

On All Saints' Day hard is the grain. The leaves are dropping, the puddle is full, At setting off in the morning Woe to him that will trust a stranger.

On All Saints' Day blustering is the weather, Unlike the beginning of the past fair season: Besides God there is none that knows the future.

From the Welsh. 1792.

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Apples, peares, hawthorns, quicksetts, oakes. Sett them at All Hallow-tyde, and command them to grow; sett them at Candlemas-tide and entreat them to grow.

Wilts.

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Who sets an apple tree may live to see it end, Who sets a pear tree may set it for a friend.

Hereford.

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Their loveliness of life and leaf At last the waving trees have shed; The garden ground is sown with grief, The gay chrysanthemum is dead.

But oh! remember this: There must be birth and blossoming; Nature will waken with a kiss Next Spring!

Clement Scott.

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Thorny balls, each three in one, The chestnuts throw in our path in showers! For the drop of the woodland fruit's begun, These early November hours.

Browning.

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There never was a juster debt Than what the dry do pay for wet; Never a debt was paid more nigh As what the wet do pay for dry!

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A wet Sunday, a fine Monday, wet the rest of the week.

Winchester.

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An early winter, A surly winter.

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ST. MARTIN'S DAY. (November 11th.)

If Martinmas ice can bear a duck, The winter will be all mire and muck.

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