his female counterpart, Libera, a general
spirit of creativeness.

The character of April is much more clearly marked: the month is filled
with a series of festivals--all of a clearly agricultural
nature--prayers for the crops now in the earth, and the purification of
the men and animals on the farm. The series opens with the Fordicidia
on the 15th, when pregnant cows were sacrificed: their unborn calves
were torn from them and burnt, the ashes being kept by the Vestal
Virgin in Vesta's storehouse (_penus Vestae_) for use at the Parilia.
The general symbolism of fertility is very clear; the goddess
associated with the festival is Tellus, the earth herself, and the
local origin of these festivals is shown in the fact that not only was
the sacrifice made for the whole people on the Capitol, but separately
in each one of the _curiae_. The Fordicidia is closely followed by the
Cerealia on the 19th--the festival of another earth-goddess (_Ceres_,
_creare_)--more especially connected with the growth of corn. A very
curious feature of the ritual was the fastening of fire-brands to the
tails of foxes, which were then let loose in what was afterwards the
Circus Maximus: a symbol possibly, as Wissowa thinks, of sunlight,
possibly of the vegetation-spirit. But the most important of the April
ceremonies is undoubtedly the Parilia of the 21st, the festival of the
very ancient rustic _numen_, Pales. Ovid's[9] description of the
celebration is so interesting and so full of the characteristic colour
of the Roman rustic festivals that I may perhaps be pardoned for
reproducing it at greater length. 'Shepherd,' he says, addressing the
rustic worshipper, 'at the first streak of dawn purify thy well-fed
flocks: let water first besprinkle them, and a branch sweep clean the
ground. Let the folds be adorned with leaves and branches fastened to
them, while a trailing wreath covers the gay-decked gates. Let blue
flames rise from the living sulphur and the sheep bleat loud as she
feels the touch of the smoking sulphur. Burn the male olive-branch and
the pine twig and juniper, and let the blazing laurel crackle amid the
hearth. A basket full of millet must go with the millet cakes: this is
the food wherein the country goddess finds pleasure most of all. Give
her too her own share of the feast and her pail of milk, and when her
share has been set aside, then with milk warm from the cow make prayer
to Pales, guardian of the woods.' The poet then rec