In Saxon almanacs, the signs of the zodiac do not appear; each month is typified by some domestic or agricultural symbol—thus, ploughing represents February; apple-gathering, September; the Christmas feast, December. The illustrations of French almanacs of the same period distinctly mark the nationality; while those of Flemish and Italian origin are remarkable for their delicate fancies and marvellous beauty of colouring. The French had also rhymes, preserving, in short, satirical remarks, national peculiarities and prejudices. After the tenth century, the almanacs were the great repositories of astrology, medicine, proverbial wisdom, and popular superstitions. All of them had lists of the lucky and unlucky days; but as yet there were no predictions. Learned churchmen stealthily cultivated astrology and astronomy; but the vulgar were left in ignorance as to whether doleful Saturn was diffusing his baleful influence, or fiery Mars bringing war and bloodshed. Each month in the year had at least two unfortunate days, except April, which had only one; but that was the terrible Walpurgis Night, specially given up to demons and witches. However, as the English list differed from the French, and the French from the Italian, a man by having the whole three could cheat fate and defy misfortune. Friday has always been a black day; and there are even yet people who have a mysterious dislike to it, who never heard of the thirteen reasons duly set forth in these old almanacs, such as the killing of Abel, the slaughter of the Innocents, the beheading of John the Baptist, &c. No part of these old almanacs is more positive and more unpleasant than the medical department. Bleeding and herb-teas are specifics for every malady. Each month had its particular herb, and nearly every month its libation of human blood. September had two—the ‘liver vein’ is said to be then ‘full of venom;’ and bleeding at the beginning and end of the month, ‘most needful and comforting.’ From the homely character of the information in these early almanacs, it is evident that they were intended for general use, and it is probable every burgher possessed one; for we are apt to underrate the extent of manuscript literature, and to overrate its price. That the number of copyists was very great, is evident from the complaints following the invention of printing, which, it was said, ‘deprived hundreds of bread.’ Of these manuscript almanacs, three famous ones remain—that in Lambeth Palace, bearing the date of 1460; that of John Somers, written in Oxford, five hundred years ago; and the Oxford almanac of 1386. The last was printed as a curiosity at the beginning of the present century; and it may be noted, that in early days, Oxford was the centre of almanac manufacture, astronomy and surgery being mixed with religion and history.