AUTUMN. 167 



ruddy health. Now, instead of this animated 

 picture, there is one machine drawn by two or 

 three horses, which cuts the grain and binds it 

 into sheaves, one man driving the horses, and 

 two going behind setting up the sheaves into 

 stooks. Quietness reigns. The loud, hearty laugh 

 and often rude jest, the evolutions of the young 

 as they chased each other during resting (?) 

 time at "mid-yokin," are all but faint impressions. 

 If I might be allowed to parody a verse from 

 that beautiful song, "Far Away," I would 

 sing : 



Where is now the merry party 



I remember long ago, 

 Chasing round the harvest field, 



Under mid-day's ruddy glow? 



The whirr of the reaping-machine, or the crack 

 of the sportsman's gun, only makes the quietness 

 more pronounced. We miss the lively little 

 Chiff-Chaff, whose voice grew stronger as the 

 days got warmer. He is now far away, but 

 he will return next spring. All birds are 

 silent. 



