THE DYh\G VEAK. 281 



Autumn has been written and rhymed about from 

 the days of Thomson down, but always in the same 

 general tone of sadness. The text of every one has 

 been — 



" The melancholy days have come — 

 The saddest of the year," 



There must be something natural in this, or it would 

 not be so universal ; and my own experience has 

 heretofore corresponded with this prevailing senti- 

 ment. Indeed the effect of the dying year is palpable 

 on those least affected by such changes and least con- 

 scious of them. You notice it in the very sports of 

 children. In spring time the most vigorous games 

 and boisterous merriment are seen on every village 

 green. But in autumn these are thrown aside for 

 forest strolls or walks by the river side. The scene 

 subdues and chastens the very spirit of childhood ; 

 and there is something sad in seeing the glorious 

 summer, that has been so full of life and health and 

 beauty, lie down and die on the bosom of Nature. 

 Hope, which comes with spring, yields in autumn to 

 reflection, and man looks forward to decay rather 

 than to maturity and strength. But this feeling 



