NOVEMBEB AND DECEMBEE. 191 



hesitate to say with Job, "Lo, these are parts 

 of his -ways : but how httle a portion is heard 

 of him!"* 



NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER. 



" Where is the pride of Summer— the green prime, 

 The many many leaves, all twinkling ? — Tliree 

 On the moss'd elm ; three on the naked lime, 

 Trembling,— and one upon the old oak tree !" — Hood. 



We may even yet cull a good nosegay from 

 the garden, but our fields and lanes put forth no 

 new blossoms for the dreary November, or the 

 frosty airs of the closing month ; not that the 

 country is absolutely destitute of flowers, for a 

 few autumnal blossoms, as the ragwort, are yet 

 left ; and the winter flowering furze is bright ; 

 and the pale yarrow still stays with us ; and the 

 starry daisy yet sparkles in the grass. Not only, 

 in our rural walk, do we miss the many flowers, 

 but the voice of the tuneful bird now rarely bids 

 us pause to listen. The robin, however, that 

 " household bird, with the red stomacher," 

 sings every day more regularly, and with louder 

 note ; the sky-lark warbles a parting song, and 

 the thrush has not yet forsaken the almost 

 leafless woods, but on a bright frosty morning 

 will cheer us with a song, as loud and sv.eet as 

 even the strains of summer. The countryman 

 finds employment in tending his farm ; but 

 the field labour is little now, tor the Almighty 



* Job xxvi. li. 



