Convex Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis convexula._
Dedicated to _St. Clement_.
[389] Ribadeneira.
[390] Plot’s Staffordshire.
~November 24.~
_St. John of the Cross_, A. D. 1591. _St. Chrysogonus._ _Sts. Flora_
and _Mary_, A. D. 851. _St. Cianan_, or _Kenan_, Bp. of Duleek, in
Ireland, A. D. 489.
_London in November._
In the already cited “_Mirror of the Months_,” there is a feeling
account of certain days in the metropolis, at this season, which every
one who has sojourned in “that overgrown place” will immediately
recognize to be “quite correct.”
“Now the atmosphere of London begins to thicken over head, and assume
its _natural_ appearance, preparatory to its becoming, about Christmas
time, that ‘palpable obscure,’ which is one of its proudest boasts; and
which, among its other merits, may reckon that of engendering those
far-famed fogs, of which every body has heard, but to which no one has
ever done justice. A London fog, in November, is a thing for which I
have a sort of natural affection--to say nothing of an acquired one--the
result of a hackney-coach adventure, in which the fair part of the fare
threw herself into my arms for protection, amidst the pleasing horrors
of an overthrow.
“As an affair of mere breath, there is something tangible in a London
fog. In the evanescent air of Italy, a man might as well not breathe at
all, for any thing he knows of the matter. But in a well-mixed
metropolitan fog, there is something substantial and satisfying. You can
feel what you breathe, and see it too. It is like breathing water,--as
we may suppose the fishes to do. And then the taste of it, when dashed
with a due seasoning of seacoal smoke, is far from insipid. It is also
meat and drink at the same time: something between egg-flip and
_omelétte soufflée_, but much more digestible than either. Not that I
would recommend it medicinally, especially to persons of queasy
stomachs, delicate nerves, and afflicted with bile. But for persons of a
good robust habit of body, and not dainty withal, (which such, by the
by, never are,) there is nothing better in its way. And it wraps you all
round like a cloak, too--a patent water-proof one, which no rain ever
penetrated. No--I maintain that a real London fog is a thing not to be
sneezed at--if you help it. _Mem._ As many spurious imitations of the
above are abroad,--such as Scotch mists, and the like,--which are no
less deleterious than disagreeable,--please to ask for the ‘true London
particular,’--as manufactured by Thames, Coalgas, Smoke, Steam, & Co. No
others are genuine.”
_Water-proof Boots and Shoes._
Take one pound of drying (boiled linseed) oil, two ounces of yellow wax,
two ounces of spirits of turpentine, and one of Burgundy pitch, melted
carefully over a slow fire. With this composition new shoes and boots
are to be rubbed in the sun, or at a distance from the fire, with a
small bit of sponge, as often as they become dry, until they are fully
saturated; the leather then is impervious to wet, the shoes and boots
last much longer, acquire softness and pliability, and thus prepared,
are the most effectual preservatives against cold.
_A Notable Woman._
On the 24th of November, 1735, a butcher near Rumford, in Essex, was
rode up to by a woman well mounted on a side saddle, who, to his
astonishment, presented a pistol, and demanded his money. In amazement
he asked her what she meant, and received his answer from a genteel
looking man, who coming to him on horseback, said he was a brute to deny
the lady’s request, and enforced this conviction by telling him that if
he did not gratify her desire immediately he would shoot him through the
head. The butcher could not resist an invitation to be gallant, when
supported by such arguments, and he placed six guineas and his watch in
her hands.[391]
* * * * *