FEBRUARY.

The flowers which cold in prison kept

Now laugh the frost to scorn.

Richard Edwards. 1523.

Among the ancient manuscripts in the British Museum there is one of Saxon origin, written by Ethelgar, a writer of some note in the tenth century. Commenting on the months, he speaks of February, which he calls Sprout kele, because colewort, a kind of cabbage, which was the chief sustenance of the husbandmen in those days, began to yield wholesome young sprouts during this month. Some centuries after, this name was modernized by the Romans, who offered their expiatory sacrifices at this season of the year, and called Februalia. Frequently during this month the cold is abated for a short time, and fine days and hasty thaws take the place of rigid frost. From this peculiarity, this month has often been called by ancient writers by the expressive name of “February fill dike.”

Clare’s verses are sweetly descriptive of this changing season —

The snow has left the cottage top;

The thatch moss grows in brighter green;

And eaves in quick succession drop,

Where pinning icicles have been;

Pitpatting with a pleasant noise,

In tubs set by the cottage door;

While ducks and geese, with happy joys,

Plunge in the yard-pond brimming o’er.

The sun peeps through the window pane;

Which children mark with laughing eye:

And in the wet street steal again,

To tell each other Spring is nigh:

Then, as young Hope the past recalls,

In playing groups they often draw,

To build beside the sunny walls

Their spring-time huts of sticks and straw.

And oft in pleasure’s dreams they hie

Round homesteads by the village side,

Scratching the hedgerow mosses by,

Where painted pooty shells abide;

Mistaking oft the ivy spray

For leaves that come with budding Spring,

And wondering in their search for play

Why birds delay to build and sing.

The mavis-thrush with wild delight

Upon the orchard’s dripping tree,

Mutters, to see the day so bright,

Fragments of young Hope’s poesy:

And dame oft stops her buzzing wheel

To hear the robin’s note once more,

Who tootles while he pecks his meal

From sweet-briar hips beside the door.

The frost often returns after a few days, and binds Nature with his iron hand. In Great Britain, where the Spring is much earlier than with us, February is remarkable for what is termed the “runs” of moles.

Le Count, a French naturalist, records some interesting notices of the nature of moles, (an animal not very common in this cold climate,) as well as the speed at which they travel through their underground galleries. He observes, “They are very voracious, and die of hunger if kept without food for twelve hours. They commence throwing up their hillocks in the month of February, and making preparations for their summer campaign, constructing for themselves runs in various directions, to enable them to escape in case of danger; and also as a means of procuring their food. These runs communicate with one another, and unite at one point; at this centre the female establishes her head-quarters, and forms a separate habitation for her young, taking care that both shall be on a higher level than the runs, and as nearly as possible even with the ground, and any moisture that may penetrate is carried off by the runs. This dormitory, if it may be so styled, is generally placed at the foot of a wall, or near a hedge or a tree, where it has less chance of being broken in. When so placed, no external embankment gives token of its presence; but when the soil is light a large heap of earth is generally thrown over it. Being susceptible of the slightest noise or vibration of the earth, the mole, in case of surprise, at once betakes itself to its safety runs.”

We sometimes, though rarely, find the snow-drops, “fair maids of February,” as they are called, peeping through their mantle of snow, and the gentle aconite, with its

“Green leaf furling round its cup of gold,”

giving life and animation to the otherwise dank and desolate border. Leigh Hunt in describing this month says, “If February were not the precursor of Spring, it would be the least pleasant month in the whole year, November not excepted. The thaws coming so suddenly produce freshets, and a clammy moisture, which is the most disagreeable of winter sensations.

Various signs of returning Spring—

——songful Spring—

Whose looks are melody,

occur at different times during this month. The month of February in England may well be compared to the month of April in America.”

The author of “The Sabbath” thus vividly paints the sterility of this month, and its effects upon the “rural populace.”

All outdoor work

Now stands; the wagoner, with wish-bound feet,

And wheel-spokes almost filled, his destined stage

Scarcely can gain. O’er hill, and vale, and wood,

Sweeps the snow-pinioned blast, and all things veils

In white array, disguising to the view;

Objects well known, now faintly recognized;

One color clothes the mountain and the plain,

Save where the feathery flakes melt as they fall

Upon the deep blue stream, or scowling lake,

Or where some beetling rock o’er jutting hangs

Above the vaulty precipice’s cove.

Formless, the pointed cairn now scarce o’ertops

The level dreary waste; and coppice woods,

Diminished of their height, like bushes seem.

With stooping heads, turned from the storm, the flocks

Onward still urged by man and dog, escape

The smothering drift; while, skulking at aside,

Is seen the fox, with close down-folded tail,

Watching his time to seize a straggling prey;

Or, from some lofty crag, he ominous howls,

And makes approaching night more dismal fall.

During this month, the increasing influence of the sun is scarcely felt, till we approach the end, then hoping, watch from day to day the lengthened minutes as they pass, to usher in Spring’s holy charms.