CHAPTER XXVII. 



The disappearance of the glories of Autumn, and the advent of Winter Innovations and 

 Innovators New Version of the Scriptures The Milkmaid and her Fairy Lover, 

 translated from the Gaelic. 



ICHABOD ! the glory is departed [November 1871]. The gorgeous 

 autumnal hues, which were so beautiful when we penned our last, 

 have already passed away. In the first fierce breath of winter the 

 trees have shed their golden glories, while the few remaining leaves 

 that still cling trembling to branch and bough, shrivelled up and 

 blackened at their edges, present only that pallid, corpse-like hue that 

 betokens approaching dissolution, making you sad and thoughtful as 

 you gaze, and reminding you that everywhere, on all hands, last 

 while it may, the end of all life is death. It is a sad lesson for the 

 moment, doubtless, but a useful one ; and even at its worst, when 

 the thought bears heaviest upon us, the cloud presents its silver 

 lining, and a gleam of gladness bursts upon the soul, in the re- 

 collection that as sure as all things are subject to decay and death, 

 so sure are decay and death themselves but the vassals of a brighter 

 life and more excellent glory. In one of our Scripture Paraphrases 

 there is a very beautiful reference to the decay of nature at this 

 season, and to the hope that gladdens us amidst all the desolation 

 of the scene : 



if " All nature dies, and lives again : 



The flow'r that paints the field, 

 The trees that crown the mountain's brow, 

 And boughs and blossoms yield, 



