AN OCTOBER DIARY. 889 



ward flight to their roosts, and flew in a disconsolate, 

 dejected, downcast manner. Coming quite down to the 

 tree-tops as they passed the bluff, I gave a loud shout 

 when several were near. It seemed to awake them, as 

 though thej had been sleeping as thej flew. Straight- 

 way they were noisy as geese, each scolding the other 

 for not seeing me before, and all that passed after that 

 rose a hundred feet or more in the thick air. 



These were the last birds of the month. An hour 

 later, dull, dreary, dripping night kept even the owls at 

 home, and October, that was ushered in with such a 

 wealth of light and music, had not one ray of sunshine 

 to brighten its final hours, or aught to soothe it, beyond 

 the moaning of the east wind in the sobbing pines. 



