THERE is an old saying that April wears a white hat. This is not a reference to snow, however. It is a reminder that we can experience frosts during this unpredictable and sometimes stormy month, and even in some European countries a cold April is regarded as beneficial.

The French believe that a cold April is especially good for crops of wheat and grapes because that ensures a plentiful supply of bread and wine, and this is also echoed by the Spaniards. In Portugal, it is said that a cold and moist April fills the cellar and fattens the cow while here in England it has long been claimed that a cold April helps to fill the barns.

In some areas of Britain, snow in April is considered as valuable as manure due to the benefits it brings to the soil, and it seems that most growers do not wish for a dry month. A very old piece of wisdom tells us that a dry April is not the farmers' will, this being supported by another which says that April rains for men, meaning it is good for our growing crops. The French believe that rain in April is worth David's chariot - whatever that means!

In some areas, Derbyshire being an example, it is thought that flooding rivers and streams are beneficial when they occur in April and if one considers all these sayings, they do appear to suggest that April showers are really quite welcome.

Down the years, Labour Governments have earned a reputation for finding new things upon which they can impose taxes, and of course the present so-called New Labour is rightly criticised for persistently raising existing taxes whilst managing to create a host of new ones, many by stealth. Labour governments are equally well-known for wasting huge amounts of our money which is raised by taxation, much of this disappearing in the salaries of paper-pushing bureaucrats or being spent on useless projects and by questionable quangos.

One of the latest ideas is to impose a tax on home computers. When it arrives, it will probably be disguised as something else, just as dog licences were a form of stealth taxation when they were introduced in 1867. Everyone thought it was something to do with care for dogs; it was merely another tax.

In contemplating these continuing efforts to squeeze more money from the public, the idea is by no means new. Years ago, there was a hearth tax which was also known as a chimney tax, not to mention the infamous window tax.

The hearth or chimney tax was known as fumage or sometimes fuage which means a tax on smoke, and it was levied upon every fireplace in the house. It was first imposed in this country in 1662 at the very high rate of two shillings (10p) per hearth. Some households were exempt, such as those where the occupier did not pay church taxes or poor rates or else was certified as living in a tenement under the value of £1 per year, and not having land to that value.

This tax raised the then enormous sum of £170,000 per annum but it was so unpopular that the law was repealed in 1689.

The idea was not new, however. Even in Anglo-Saxon times, the king drew an income from fumage, i.e. the tax on smoke. It was levied upon all hearths except those belonging to the very poor, and it seems the amount was either a farthing per hearth (a farthing being a quarter of an old penny) or possibly an entire penny in later cases. The tax became known as the hearth-penny.

The bizarre window tax was introduced in 1695 by the government of William III who wanted to recoup some of the losses being incurred by criminals who were clipping or defacing silver coins. They would clip small amounts from the coins and melt the clippings down to create counterfeits.

This was by no means a new crime - it had been prevalent for centuries. At Halifax in the West Riding of Yorkshire, the town's famous gibbet, which was a type of guillotine, was used to execute coiners, and another place used for this penalty was Hull. Its gallows were unusual in that they were below high-water mark on the Humber which also allowed them to be used to execute Admiralty offenders.

It was the reputation of those two places of execution which led coiners to utter the famous remark, "From Hell, Hull and Halifax, Good Lord Deliver Us".

The problem of coin clipping was eventually resolved by printing words around the rim of each gold and silver coin, something which is recalled on our current £1 coins. That message reminds us that the decoration is not there merely for appearances! It is a form of protection for our currency.

The window tax was imposed on all houses except those where the inhabitants did not pay church taxes or poor rates. The basic tax was two shillings (10p) per year but this was later increased according to the number of windows. Houses with more than ten windows paid an extra four shillings per year, and the rate was regularly increased by successive amendments to the law.

Between 1748 and 1808, the tax was raised six times but, due to intense public pressure, was reduced in 1823. Public resentment against this tax continued to increase until the winter of 1850-1, after which the tax was abolished.

Inhabited houses were then taxed instead of mere windows. When travelling around the countryside, it is possible to identify some old houses whose owners had found a way of avoiding the window tax. If they had sufficient windows to bring them within the higher rates, the owners simply blocked them up. Sometimes, the stones which occupied those window spaces were painted black with white 'woodwork' so that they looked very realistic from a distance, but those blocked-up windows continue to remind us of a very unpopular form of taxation.

In wondering what New Labour will find to tax next, perhaps they should consider taxing mobile telephones, chewing gum and caravans?

I have received an interesting letter from an 88-year old correspondent who lives in Rievaulx, near Helmsley. In relating a lovely dialect tale, he has reminded me of a Second World War practice by which rubber wellington boots could only be obtained by a permit granted by the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food. I believe the permit was granted only for very specific reasons.

He tells the tale of a Ryedale farmer who had a deep watery ditch which required cleaning and so he applied to MAFF for a pair of wellies so that his men could complete their work. One man would don the precious footwear; by chance, the lucky man was Harry. At only 5ft tall, he was smallest of the three who were charged with the task.

As Harry, Stan and Billy cleared the ditch, with Harry standing in the water and the other two working from the banks, it was evident they were successful because as they cleared away the rubbish which was causing a blockage, so the water began to flow and it rose very quickly.

"Ah'll etti git oot!" shouted Harry suddenly. "T'watter's gahin ti labber ower mi wellie tops!" Billy responded quickly. "Then git thissen oot, and Ah'll put t' wellies on."

"What good will that dea?" asked Henry, baffled by his pal's offer. "Whey, Ah's taller than awd Harry and mah legs is langer than his," responded Billy in his rustic innocence.

Needless to say, the rising water filled Billy's wellington boots and when he later tried to remove them from his swollen feet, he tore out the lining and so ruined the brand new pair. Their boss was not at all pleased with their performance.

My correspondent also provides some old dialect words used by his father. One is staggarth which means a stackyard but he supplied three curious ones, not in common use. Yal means whole or entire, wotchat refers to an orchard while a nanny is a type of rake. I thank him for his contribution.