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CHAPTER IX. 



SEPTEMBER. 



The year rolls on apace. As week after week ex- 

 pires, bright summer, though she still retains her 

 throne, looks evidently towards more southern lands. 

 There are voices and signs full of warning around us — 

 the mysterious heralds of her speedy departure ; yet 

 not in grief does she leave us, nor with grief do we 

 watch her vanishing ; for, though glorious her pre- 

 sence, she gave us only sweet promises, the fulfilment 

 of which now draws nigh. Her purpose is ended — 

 her task accomplished— and with the sound of her 

 receding pinions blends a sound of joy. The fruit has 

 ripened — the harvest is being gathered ; who does not 

 gladly exchange the trustful but anxious watching for 

 the perfect fruition of hope ? Thus it is throughout all 

 creation — with animate and inanimate things alike — 

 first the promise, then the fulfilment, ever faithful; 

 season succeeding season, generation following genera- 

 tion, whether of men, animals or herbs ; each and all 

 showing forth the unchanging spirit of nature, which, 

 though flippantly lisped by earth-wise fools, is re- 

 verently named amongst the angels, being indeed a 

 glorious manifestation of the might and mercy of 

 God. 



