A
neighbouring village had the distinction of possessing a weather
prophet, with the reputation also of an astrologer; he could be seen
when the stars were gleaming brightly, late at night, gazing upwards
and making his deductions, though, in reality, I fancy, his
inspiration came from the study of almanacs which profess to foretell
the future. He was quiet and reserved, with a spare figure, dark
complexion, and an abstracted expression. Occasionally I could induce
him to talk, but he did not like to be "drawn." He told me, as one of
his original conceptions, that he thought the good people were
accommodated in the after-life within the limits of the stars of good
influence, and that the wicked had to be content with those of an
opposite character.
The proverb about March dust, and "A dry March and a dry May for old
England," are both apposite, for they are busy months on the land, and
a wet March amounts to a national disaster; but everyone forgives
April when showery, for we all know that "April showers bring forth
May flowers." Shakespeare, too, says:
"When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet of the year."
A charming sentiment and charmingly rendered, but possibly more
accurate when the Old Style was in vogue, and the seasons were nearly
a fortnight later than now.
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