November. 
90 
fruit of the privet and the ivy. On the ditch sides we 
may see many graceful ferns, which make a pleasant 
show of bright green. 
November was the ninth month of the Roman year 
—hence its name. The Saxons styled it Wint-monat, 
or Wind Month, from the gales of wind prevalent at 
this season. 
If November weather be disagreeable in the coun¬ 
try, it is still more so in town, particularly in London, 
where the thick, yellow fog is sometimes so dense as 
to turn noon into night, and impede all business and 
traffic through the streets. This cannot be better des¬ 
cribed than in the words of the famous wit and poet, 
Thomas Hood :— 
No sun—no moon—no morn—no noon— 
No dawn—no dusk — no proper time of day— 
No sky—no earthly view— 
No distance looking blue — 
No road—no street — no “t’other side the way ”— 
No end to any row— 
No indications where the crescents go — 
No top to any steeple — 
No recognitions of familiar people— 
No warmth—-no cheerfulness — no healthful ease— 
No comfortable feel in any member— 
No shade—no shine — no butterflies—no bees— 
No fruits — no flowers—no leaves—no birds— 
November. 
