The “Mirror of the Months” likens August to “that brief, but perhaps best period of human life, 
when the promises of youth are either fulfilled or forgotten, and the fears and forethoughts connected with 
decline have not yet grown strong enough to make themselves felt; and consequently when we have nothing 
to do but look around us, and be happy.” For it is in this month that the year “like a man at forty, has 
turned the corner of its existence ; but, like him, it may still fancy itself young, because it does not begin 
to feel itself getting old. And perhaps there is no period like this, for encouraging and bringing to per- 
fection that habit of tranquil enjoyment, in which all true happiness must mainly consist; with pleasure it 
has, indeed, little to do; but with happiness it is every thing.” 
The author of the volume pursues his estimate by observing, that “August is that debateable ground 
of the year, which is situated exactly upon the confines of summer and autumn ; and it is difficult to say 
which has the better claim to it. It is dressed in half the flowers of the one, and half the fruits of the 
other; and it has a sky and a temperature all its own, and which vie in beauty with those of the spring. 
May itself can offer nothing so sweet to the senses, so enchanting to the imagination, and so soothing to 
the heart, as that genial influence which arises from the sights, the sounds, and the associations, connected 
with an August evening in the country, when the occupations and pleasures of the day are done, and when 
all, even the busiest, are fain to give way to that ‘wise passiveness,’ one hour of which is rife with more 
real enjoyment than a whole season of revelry. Those who will be wise (or foolish) enough to make com- 
parisons between the various kinds of pleasure of which the mind of man is capable, will find that there is 
none (or but one) equal to that felt by a true lover of nature, when he looks forth upon her open face 
silently, at a season like the present, and drinks in that still beauty which seems to emanate from every 
thing he sees, till his whole senses are steeped in a sweet forgetfulness, and he becomes unconscious of all 
but that instinct of good which is ever present with us, but which can so seldom make itself felt amid that 
throng of thoughts which are ever busying and besieging us, in our intercourse with the living world. The 
only other feeling which equals this, in its intense quietude, and its satisfying fulness, is one which is almost 
identical with it, — where the accepted lover is gazing unobserved, and almost unconsciously, on the face of 
his mistress, and tracing there sweet evidences of that mysterious union which already exists between them. 
“The whole face of nature has undergone, since last month, an obvious change ; obvious to those who 
delight to observe all her changes and operations, but not sufficiently striking to insist on being seen 
generally by those who can read no characters but such as are written in a text hand. If the general colours 
of all the various departments of natural scenery are not changed, their hues are; and if there is not yet 
observable the infinite variety of autumn, there is as little the extreme monotony of summer. In one de- 
partment, however, there is a general change, that cannot well remain unobserved. The rich and unvaring 
green of the corn-fields has entirely and almost suddenly changed to a still richer and more conspicuous 
gold colour, more conspicuous on account of the contrast it now offers to the lines, patches, and masses of 
green with which it every where lies in contact, in the form of intersecting hedge-rows, intervening mea- 
dows, and bounding masses of forest. These latter are changed too; but in hue alone, not in colour. They 
are all of them still green ; but it is not the fresh and tender green of the spring, nor the full and satisfying, 
though somewhat dull, green of the summer; but many greens, that blend all those belonging to the seasons 
just named, with others at once more grave and more bright; and the charming variety and interchange of 
which are peculiar to this delightful month, and are more beautiful in their general effect than those of either 
of the preceding periods: just as a truly beautiful woman is perhaps more beautiful at the period immediately 
before that at which her charms begin to wane, than she ever was before. Here, however, the comparison 
must end ; for with the year its incipient decay is the signal for it to put on more and more beauties daily, 
till, when it reaches the period at which it is on the point of sinking into the temporary death of winter, it is 
more beautiful in general appearance than ever.” 
Lammas-day. So stands the first of August in our English almanacs, and so it stands in the printed 
Saxon Chronicle. “ Antiquaries,” says Brand, “are divided in their opinions concerning the origin of Lammas 
Day ; some derive it from Lamb-Mass, because on that day the tenants who held lands under the cathedral 
church in York, which is dedicated to St. Peter ad Yincula, were bound by their tenure to bring a live lamb 
into the church at high mass : others derive it from a supposed offering or tything of lambs at this time.” 
Various other derivations have been imagined. Blount, the glossographer, says, that Lammas is called Hlaf- 
Mass, that is Loaf-Mass, or Bread-Mass, which signifies a feast of thanksgiving for the first fruits of the corn. 
It was observed with bread of new wheat, and in some places tenants are bound to bring new wheat to their 
lord, on or before, the first of August. 
